9. Mike
MIKE
T hey say that no good deed goes unpunished, and maybe they’re right. I get back to the office, feeling like there might be something worthy of celebration in my life, only to find the thunderstorm waiting on me.
Dad.
He’s sitting on my desk, still in his golfing gear, emanating dissatisfaction. On Saturday night. I smell Scotch and guess he had dinner at the club. The office is dark, lit only by the glow of the lighting in the greenhouses across the parking lot.
“Glad you had time to show up for work,” he says, his nasty tone providing a warning. I realize that Dierdre’s computer is on, which it shouldn’t be. He came in to check on something. Judging by his tone, he found it.
And I can guess what it was.
I keep my tone mild, because it’s safer that way. “Even I can take some time on a Saturday.”
“And ignore your responsibilities again.”
“Everything is on track,” I remind him .
His eyes narrow, perhaps because he hears something different in my tone. “Where were you?”
“I went to play rugby like I always do on Saturdays.” It grates that I have to provide an alibi, like I’m a teenager sneaking into the house after curfew.
“You’re home earlier when you do that. You must have stayed out to eat…” His eyes light with fury. “There! You went there . You went to that Carpe Diem Café…”
“I did. It was really good.”
“You were supposed to shut it down. I told you to make sure it went away.”
“As much as I enjoyed it, Dad, I’m not sure a restaurant like that will survive long in Empire. There just aren’t enough people to eat there regularly. That’s why Leon and Dottie took an early retirement. Business had dropped for the diner, and this café is more expensive than the diner was.”
“You’re defying me.”
“I don’t see a good reason to get involved.”
“No good reason?” He spins to his feet, seizes a sheet from the printer and casts it toward me. “Probably just the way you thought you had good reason for this .”
It is, of course, the bill from the company that provides our seedlings at the start of every season.
“I knew something was wrong. I knew expenses were too high for Q1, so I came back here tonight and hunted it down. How could you pay that much for seedlings? It’s an astronomical increase over last year and completely irresponsible on your part to authorize that expense.”
We define ‘astronomical’ a bit differently, it’s clear.
“I’ve told you, Dad, that we need to try some new varieties.”
“And I have told you that we do not.”
“But you’re wrong.” I continue before he can interrupt.
“If you look at our sales numbers, you’ll see that the cluster tomato we’ve been growing for twenty years is selling at a lower price each and every year.
That’s because everyone grows that variety and the market is glutted.
I knew we needed something special, something that only we could offer, and when I had the chance to get that seed exclusively, I took it. ”
“You shouldn’t have done that. You should have asked me.”
“At the time, I thought it was my decision, given that you had retired and said I was in charge.”
He gestures to the invoice with impatience. “How much of it did you buy?”
“It had to be imported from Holland. I had to make a minimum seedling order.”
“How many plants?”
“Greenhouse seven is entirely planted with the new variety.”
“ All of seven?” He stares at me. I thought he knew. I thought he had been out there, but I see in that instant that he didn’t have any idea. Evidently his visits to the greenhouse were only to number one, the closest one. “You were out of line. You over-stepped yourself, Michael…”
“Give me two weeks, Dad. We’ll know then just how wrong I am.”
“They’re fruiting,” he guesses, studying me.
“They’re amazing. We had to reconsider the pruning and training because the vines are so heavy with fruit.”
A shrewd light dawns in his eyes. “How heavy?”
“The yield will be at least thirty percent higher than it would have been with the tried and true in that greenhouse.”
“But will they be good?”
I shrug. “We should know soon. Elke says they’re the most popular new variety in Europe.”
“Elke,” he murmurs and smiles. “I always liked that girl. ”
“She’s a good friend,” I say, trying to silence an old theme song before it gets started. I yawn deliberately. “It would be good to get some sleep, Dad.”
“Yes, yes.” He’s appeased for the moment, calculating his profits.
I turn back at the door. “By the way, what would have happened to any letters that came to the house for me while I was at university?”
He looks up with a frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Letters. In the mail. Addressed to me when I wasn’t home.”
He’s impatient with this question. “They’d be saved for you, of course. Probably put in your room. Why are you asking this now? You finished university years ago.”
“And yet I only found out about these letters today.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“What letters were these? What was in them?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get them.”
He scowls at me. “Why are you asking about them now? Who were they from?”
“Sylvia Kincaid.”
“Who?” He frowns out the window as if trying to remember something, then turns back to me. “Is that Una’s grand-daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever happened to her?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard her name since you were in high school.”
“She went to Toronto, but now she’s back.”
He’s watching me. “And she says she wrote you letters. Why would she do that?”
“We were dating in high school, Dad.”
“I don’t remember that,” he says, bored with the topic now. “ I certainly hope you’re not going to continue to take it easy tomorrow, not when these vines are so heavy with fruit.”
“Actually, I’m taking tomorrow off.”
He’s using Dierdre’s calculator, punching in numbers, probably calculating the yield of that new variety. I doubt he’s heard what I said.
“See you Monday morning.” He doesn’t acknowledge that so I leave.
The discussion about the new hybrid isn’t over. It won’t be over until he cedes that I made the right choice, and hell might freeze over first.
I really need those tomatoes to be good.
And, to be honest, I’m curious about setting up that greenhouse with Sierra. I haven’t done anything so small-scale and hands-on for a while. It’ll be completely new. A challenge.
I’m kidding myself that it’s all about Sierra. It’s about seeing more of Sylvia, too.
I even whistle as I hurry down the stairs.