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Washington. She’d get things done.”
    Harry smiled, for she’d met Mrs. Long, a great beauty, only once and was deeply impressed by the fact that she’d been a classics major. “Hampton, she’s too good for Washington.”
    He laughed. “What can I do for you?”
    “BoomBoom told me you were buying crops before harvesting. I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, but I found that concept unusual and intriguing.”
    “And I know you’re growing sunflowers and grapes. I even heard you’ve got a plot of ginseng down by the creek there.”
    Harry wasn’t surprised. Everybody knew everything in the county. Then again, she thought, maybe not. There was a dead man at the ReNu shop ready to disprove that theory.
    She cleared her throat, for she’d paused a bit long to answer. “I’m trying to find niche crops. I don’t have the implements for my tractor to grow corn. Ethanol has sure made that an attractive proposition, but I’m old-fashioned. If I did grow corn, it wouldn’t be for fuel.”
    Yancy leaned back, folding his hands and putting them behind his head. “Scam. That’s all I’ll say about that. Anyway, you know I’m dedicated to locally grown products whenever possible and to products grown as naturally as possible. You are what you eat.”
    Harry almost said, “And you are what you do,” but she halted, instead saying, “How can you buy before harvest? Mother Nature is a temperamental partner.”
    “I go out, look at the crop, make a bid based on past costs per bushel or per chicken, let’s say, based on the prior five years of purchase price wholesale. I also have to figure in gas costs, since everything is trucked in. That means I’m getting an average. Now, the harvest might be excellent and the prices go down a bit. Or it may be the opposite and prices rise. The market giveth and the market takethaway. But you get what I bid no matter what, so you’re taking your chances, as am I.”
    “What if the crop is destroyed?”
    He frowned a moment, as that was not a happy thought. “Obviously, the deal is void. That’s in the contract.”
    Removing his hands from behind his head, he picked up a folder, a bright lime green, and slid it across to Harry.
    She rose, picked it up, placed it in her lap as she sat down. “Beautiful folder.”
    He beamed. “I have a weakness for office supplies. If I hadn’t become a grocer, I’d have opened an office-supply store, a high-end one.” He sat up straight. “You know, there’s a woman in Richmond who prints on a hand press, invitations and the like. The more our economy shifts to the big box stores, the more room there is for quality and individuality.”
    “Yes, I think so, too. I’ll read this thoroughly.”
    “Well, if you decide to sign on, I’ll come out three times before harvest to inspect your crops. Heard you had a banner year with the sunflowers last year.”
    “I sure did. And this is the first year I can harvest my grapes. It really will take another four years or so before they’ll be as they should.”
    “You were prudent to only put in a quarter acre, if for no other reason than to see how the soil affects the taste. Every vineyard, even if only two miles apart, creates its own
terroir
.”
    “Fascinating. Thank you for the compliment, but I know I can’t become a big vintner. I’m learning so much with the help of others, but I think my real drive is toward the sunflowers, the ginseng. I’m also growing asparagus, though it won’t be ready until next year.”
    “You staggered the planting, of course.” He leaned forward, brown eyes bright.
    “Had to. You can only pick edible asparagus every other year. That’s one of the reasons it costs more.”
    “I’m interested in that, Harry. I can’t keep fresh asparagus on the shelves. Doesn’t matter if it’s the type most people know around here or the large white ones, the European varieties.”
    She stood up. “Thank you for seeing me.”
    “My pleasure.”
    She