Chapter Three #3
“Good thing email is free,” he said. “Otherwise the weekly emails I get from this woman would be costing taxpayers a fortune. Did you see this? A letter about how to prepare for a storm. Like we haven’t been preparing for sixty-some years.”
Mille put a mug of coffee down in front of Ellen along with cream, knowing she preferred her coffee light.
“Now, George, she’s just doing her job.”
“I didn’t get emails every week from Henry.”
“Henry probably didn’t even know how to use a computer,” Millie said.
Five years ago, Jeanne had run for the congressional seat that her grandfather Henry Clarke had represented for twenty-some years after he retired because of his health. He died a year later. Ellen had taken Penny to the funeral. She’d gone to school with Henry and they’d been friends ever since.
“I need to get back pretty quick,” she said, knowing how a conversation with the Coulters could turn into an hourlong gossip session, “but I had a visit from Clive Robinson this morning.”
George and Millie exchanged a look, and Ellen’s chest fell. “So, you did sell to Verdacorp?”
“Just the right-of-way,” George said. “Not the whole farm. I told John I wouldn’t sell the farm to them, and I’ll stand by that.”
A small blessing, Ellen thought. “Thank you.”
“And they’re just working with the utilities, many people sell the right-of-way for utilities. Better than the government coming in and snatching the land through eminent domain. The money is good, Ellen. You might want to think of doing the same thing.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but George put up his hand. “I know your concerns, but we had a lawyer look it over, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not selling a square foot to Verdacorp,” Ellen said, sounding a lot harsher than she intended. She sipped her coffee to cover, then said, “I’m going through with the expansion.”
“Do you have the money, dear?” Millie asked. “Clive said you were struggling.”
Ellen wanted to wring Clive’s neck. Was that what he was telling people? That she was struggling and therefore they should sell to Verdacorp because Ellen couldn’t pay them a fair price?
“I have the money,” she said, though it wasn’t completely true.
They’d bought the Mendoza property and had planned to plant it last year …
then John died. This year, she was only able to get one fifty-acre plot planted with sunflowers, and they hadn’t yet touched the pecan trees, which were a complete mess as they hadn’t been harvested properly in a decade.
She had hoped by next year she’d have half the old Mendoza property planted, which would on paper give her the ability to carry a loan on the Coulters’ property.
“A lot of people are selling off,” George said.
“The McKennas have farmed here for nearly a hundred and thirty years. I’m not backing down,” Ellen said. “After harvest, I hope we can negotiate for the east half of your property. I’ll plant winter wheat and move the cattle there.”
George nodded. “That’s a good plan,” he said. “We can talk.”
She hoped he wasn’t just saying it to make her feel better.
“Can I look at your contract with Verdacorp?”
“I suppose so, but why?”
“I want to see the maps. Greg Baldwin showed me his, he’s sending me a copy.” Though she hadn’t received it yet.
She didn’t want to explain why. The bulk of her land was between Baldwin and the Coulters. She wanted to figure out what Verdacorp’s plan was so she could combat it. It would also help her figure out who she needed to talk to next.
George got up. “I’ll make you a copy right now,” he said and left the kitchen.
“How’s Penny?” Millie asked. “Still getting around all right?”
“She is. Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a paper bag of oatmeal raisin cookies.
“She’s been baking all week. She won’t admit that the storm stressed her out, but looking at the number of pies and cookies we have in the pantry, she was clearly a bit anxious,” Ellen added with a smile.
Millie looked inside and grinned widely. “Oh, George will be thrilled.” She took three cookies from the bag, put one at George’s spot, and one each for her and Ellen. “Um,” Millie said after taking a bite. “Penny is the best stress baker.” She laughed lightly.
George came back and handed Ellen a folder. “Here you go. If you have questions, call me. But I think this is a good thing, Ellen. It might be good for your farm, too—provide an influx of cash when you most need it.” He picked up the cookie and smiled. “Thank Penny for me.”
Millie got up and opened the refrigerator.
“Here, I made two trays of shepherd’s pie, and I was going to freeze this one, but then dang forgot. Just warm it up tonight, it’ll hit the spot.”
“I won’t say no to any of your casseroles,” Ellen said, not wanting to hurt Millie’s feelings by declining the food. She could hear Penny criticizing it in the back of her mind; Penny was getting catty in her old age, especially about other people’s cooking.
I’ll bet she used canned gravy, Ellen heard Penny say.
She said her goodbyes and left, securing the covered casserole in front of her. With the contract in her satchel, she trotted home as fast as she dared.