Chapter 10
Natalie had been extra strict with her tour groups since the purple freckles were brought to her attention.
No one was allowed to step onto the grass, and she almost shouted at a couple who had ignored her instructions.
They had not been pleased, and she was worried they might complain, but when they realized she was one of the family members, they seemed to lose their bluster.
She had also specifically avoided Section Nine with every group she had guided since. Regardless of how careful she could insist they be, there was no reason to risk cross-contamination.
Besides, the last thing they needed was a tourist to snap a picture of the affected leaves and post it online.
“And here is the youngest section,” she said. “These vines have only gone in twelve months ago, meaning they won’t be ready for their first harvest for another two years.”
“Wow, really?” an older man with a thick Southern accent commented. “That seems a little…”
“Like a frustratingly long lead time?” she said, finishing his sentence.
“Yeah. Not to be rude, ma’am, but how in the world do you know it’ll pay off?” he asked.
“Well, the polite answer is that you rely on your research and tend to the plants carefully to ensure their success,” she said. “But to be frank, you can do your absolute best, and sometimes it’s just a crapshoot.”
The older gentleman laughed. “I’ll stick to cattle.”
“You’re a rancher?” she asked.
“Sure am, missy. Third generation.”
Natalie smiled. “When you change something, hire new people, or change suppliers, how do you know it’ll work out?”
“Well, I guess I get a feelin’,” he said. “But in the end, what happens is what happens. That’s what you deal with on the land.”
“Absolutely,” she replied. “Now, you said three generations on your ranch? We’ve also been here for many generations, so you’re familiar with the understanding that comes from doing something for so long.”
The guy nodded in a way that said he didn’t quite believe her, but she resisted giving him details on exactly how much longer her family had been doing this than his had been raising cattle. It was never worth getting into a contest with folks like him. At least he was polite enough.
“All right, everyone, that brings us to the end of the tour. Which means it’s time for your wine tasting and lunch.”
Standing back from the bus to ensure she watched everyone get on, she found herself standing in the grass of the first row of the section.
Quickly correcting herself, she stepped back onto the road.
She noticed movement on the ground near her feet from the corner of her eye—a broad, dark leaf with wide purple splotches across it.
Her first instinct was to grab it and shove it in her pocket, but the image of Ian in his shoe covers and gloves popped into her mind—along with his sneering expression as he said, “I’m not an idiot.”
Instead, she fished out the sealable freezer bag from her pocket and knelt quickly. She used it to grab the leaf and isolate it by sealing the bag before putting it back in her pocket. They were over a mile away from Section Nine. Had the wind blown it here?
Rising from her position slowly, a nauseating tightness coiled in her stomach as she caught sight of the small vine next to her. Against its pale green leaves were tiny purple specks.
*
“What’s wrong?” Her grandmother’s voice made her jump.
“Geez!” she exclaimed, dropping the plastic bag onto the glass table outside the restaurant where the tour group was eating. “Trying to kill me much?”
“Hardly,” Sarah said. “You’ve been grumpy for days, yet you say your date went well. You’ve been sitting here for an hour glaring at whatever that is. Now, tell me.”
She knew she should have kept the leaf in her pocket until she could look at it alone in her office.
“Speaking of my date—do you know whose red cardigan was on the hallway coat rack? I grabbed it in total panic because I wasn’t ready when he arrived, and it’s expensive.
I’ve never been so paranoid about my ability to not drop food on myself. ”
Natalie tried her best jokey smile and laugh, but the wily old woman raised a single thin gray eyebrow and pursed her lips.
Faltering, Natalie tried to double down. “And when I say expensive, I mean, like, actually expensive, not the way Mom thinks a ten-dollar movie ticket is…” The smile faded, and she took a moment to observe her grandmother’s expression.
She didn’t mean to imitate her, but this was the exact thing that made the difference between someone like Ian obeying her commands to get lost, and it going down like it had the other day.
Sarah was still as stone, a gargoyle of grandmotherly disappointment.
With a sigh, Natalie ran her fingers through her hair and gave up, trying to avoid telling her. “I don’t know yet, but I’m figuring it out.”
“What exactly are you trying to figure out?”
“Gran—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, just tell me!”
There was nothing quite like being scolded by her grandmother to elicit an almost military efficiency in her. “There’s a blight in Section Nine,” she said. “And today, I found a blown leaf in the kindergarten field with the same splotches.”
Her grandmother took the seat across from her. “Right, and what have you done so far about this issue?”
Swallowing hard, Natalie counted off on her fingers as she listed them.
“Diverted all tours away from there, increased the buffer for field visits to make sure no one got closer than a few yards of any row line, researched what I could to try and find out what it was, and stepped up our own quarantine protocols around access. No one is going to Nine right now, and everyone going to any of the rows must wear shoe covers that get bagged and changed out when they leave the section.”
Sarah nodded—only very slightly, but nodding all the same. Natalie sighed with relief—the nod was good. It meant those were steps her grandmother would’ve taken.
“And?”
“And? That’s everything. I only found out about it last week.”
Sarah hummed to herself, inclining her head to the side.
That, on the other hand, was not good.
“I’m guessing you think I shouldn’t have gone out with Neil,” she said, frantically searching for what else she should’ve done. “I should have called it off until I figured out what was—oh my God, what the freakin—”
“Natalie, language,” Sarah warned, turning in her chair to follow her granddaughter’s line of sight to see what had caused her to cut herself off.
“That sneaky, slithery, snide little toad,” Natalie said as she rose to her feet.
Ian was in the ornamental section of vines closest to the restaurant.
“Natalie—”
She was already off, though, making haste toward him.