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turned yellow and brittle.
We had been reluctant to leave Arthur alone, but Mrs. Gonzalez promised to look in on him. She lived in the same building and
was a nurse, plus her husband worked night shift, so he would be home during the day. Not that Arthur needed looking after not
according to him. He had been vehement about that point, shooing us out of the apartment and telling us to get lost. So we went.
Jez hadn t volunteered any information about our destination, and I hadn t pried. I think he enjoyed being mysterious and
watching me fill to the brim with curiosity. I was holding back heroically. After all, we had to be headed to a beach somewhere, right?
But the new turn made me spill.
Okay, I give, I said. Where are we going?
I had to give it to Jez: even smug like that, he was as lovable as a bucket of puppies. Doug and Loreen are old friends. Rob
first brought me up here when I was five.
All this time I thought you were going surfing.
The beach is just a few miles to the west. I m taking you on the scenic route.
So you come up here for the change of scenery?
He kept his eyes on the road. Yeah. To be honest, I m not that keen on Venice Beach. I grew up there, but I always liked it
better here. Less craziness. He flashed his teeth at me. Jasper should be there too. And Ginger.
Jasper and Ginger? I don t think I ve ever met anyone named Jasper or Ginger.
Doug and Loreen are a bit hippie. You ll see. They were even worse back in the day. They could have given their kids much
worse names.
Like Moon Unit?
Or Dweezil. Jez grinned back.
Every once in a while we passed a lonesome mailbox on our lonesome highway. At one such box, we slowed and turned off to
an undistinguished dirt road disappearing into the trees. After a minute or so of bumping around, we reached a clearing. A funky little
house sat in the middle of it. Not too little, actually. Definitely funky though; it showed signs of having gone through a number of growth
spurts over the years. I discerned the stone building that had to be the starting point. From there it grew in zigs and zags, sideways
and upward, mostly in uneven green-painted wood. The main door stood wide open. Jez strolled right in, so I followed.
Doug and Loreen Williams weren t hippie in the conventional tie-dyed sense, but they radiated an undeniably bohemian vibe.
He looked like a skinny, wiry version of Jerry Garcia, and she complemented him well. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt, she a long,
flowing skirt with a colorful blouse and beaded necklace. They were both barefoot.
We found them in the large sunshine yellow kitchen. There were herb pots in the windows, prints and photos on the walls,
colorful bottles, and all kinds of odds and ends on the shelves. And books everywhere on the table, in the windows, on top of the
fridge. The kitchen and the rest of the house, I was to find out was chaotic and well used. Loreen greeted us with exuberant
cheerfulness. She hugged first Jez, then me.
So you re the famous Nate. Nice to meet you at last.
Her arms were strong enough to squeeze the stuffing out of me.
Once free again, I shot a sharp glance at Jez, but he gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look that I was so not buying. Mercifully,
Doug was content with a handshake and a slap on the back.
Right on time! Lunch is almost ready. The kids should be back any minute.
As on cue, a car engine sounded outside, and a second later, a freckle-faced whirlwind of about seventeen or eighteen threw
herself at Jez.
It s nice to see you too, Gin, he said.
A guy about Jez s age appeared in the doorway, carrying a very large watermelon. He had to be Jasper. The Williams family
resemblance was obvious, but he looked so solemn compared to the others. Maybe solemn wasn t the right word for it, but with his
short-cut hair and serious expression, he stood out among our scruffy crew.
Jasper, right? I held my hand out, bracing for more friendly physical abuse, but he just shuffled the melon to one side and took
my hand.
Call me Scoot. Everyone does.
I m Nate.
Nice to finally meet you, Nate.
There it was again. When did I become so famous? The whirlwind who had to be Ginger had detached herself from Jez and
eyed me with suspicion.
This is my sister. Don t worry; she doesn t bite. Be nice, Ginny. Jasper nudged her in my direction.
Hi, she said coolly, staying out of arm s reach. I guessed she wasn t a member of my fan club.
We lugged our stuff into an upstairs bedroom and met back with the family behind the house. Under a large tree sat a big and
heavy wooden picnic table flanked on two sides by benches. It was laden with a mishmash of plates and bowls. We took our seats.
Doug and Loreen sat at the two ends, Jez and I on one side, Jasper and Ginny on the other.
Insects buzzed around us, and the soft breeze rattled the tree limbs, knocking stray bits of tree bark and the occasional dry leaf
onto the table. It was all very rustic, and thus thrillingly exotic, standing in stark contrast of the crisp seriousness of the West family
outdoor ventures my father had planned out like battle maneuvers. Everyone talked and passed dishes back and forth at the same
time.
Joe Delgado bought the Johnson Ranch, Doug said once we all had piles of food on our plates.
Is that the one that s been sitting there unused? Jasper asked.
Several heads nodded.
When old Bill Johnson died without a will, the fourth Mrs. Johnson and all the kids from his previous three marriages started a
big legal battle over the estate, Loreen explained it for my benefit. I don t even think it was worth that much. They just did it out of
spite. Anyway, it was all tied up in courts for years while the land was left untouched.
Doug took over next. It s all for the best. As it turns out, it gave enough time for the pesticides and other chemicals to wash out
of the soil so it can be qualified as organic. I met Joe at the farmer s market. He told me he s going to turn it into an organic orchard.
As I eventually figured out, Doug didn t talk much, except when it was something he was passionate about. Then he couldn t
stop.
He s a smart young man, and his family s been farmers for generations. His great-grandparents came over from Mexico as
day laborers, then in time got their own land. Joe s brother grows organic vegetables and sells them to small grocery store chains.
Some of the bigger ones too.
Jasper nodded. Local and organic is getting more popular. That reminds me, Jez, I want to talk to you about something.
We didn t learn what it was, because he was interrupted by Loreen shoving a salad bowl at him. There was a quick exchange of
looks I couldn t decipher. It was odd, but the whole family was a little odd.
Doug cleared his throat and went on talking. We had Joe and his wife over for dinner. He gave me an interesting idea. He ll
need bees to pollinate his trees, and that costs money. They need to truck the bees in from God knows where. Commercial
beekeeping is very stressful for the bees. No wonder they are having so much trouble with colony collapses lately. So Joe and I made
a deal. I ll keep my beehives in his orchard, keep the honey, and his trees get pollinated. We ll start next spring.
That s exciting, but a little risky, isn t it? I chipped in.
So is everything in life, Loreen said, smiling.
Do you know anything about beekeeping? Jez asked.
When I was growing up, we had bees. I know quite enough. The rest I can learn by spring.
Dad grew up on a farm in Idaho, Jasper whispered to me.
Ginny rolled her eyes but didn t say anything.
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