Crops and Robbers Read Online Free PDF Page A

had about Joan flew away with the warm light breeze. Linda was right; my business hadn’t been affected. There had never been one word of complaint regarding my products. Ever. In fact, I always thought I was lucky. Perhaps I did need a little humbling, and I could accept that. What doesn’t kill us . . .
    “Becca?”
    I turned to see Bo Stafford at the front of my stall. He had his hands in his overalls pockets, and he gave me a strained smile. Bo was a big guy who’d played football in high school. Even though he was somewhere close to thirty, his bigness hadn’t gone soft, and his wide shoulders and thick arms always reminded me of a tough but kind of cute bulldog.
    “Hi, Bo, how’s it going?” I’d been irritated at him earlier for his lack of cooperation and what I interpreted as disrespect, but now that rebel part of my soul wanted to offer him a fist bump. I guess I wasn’t quite over “it” yet, but I kept my fist to myself.
    “Sorry about the way she treated you today,” he said.
    “Oh, that’s okay. It was a surprise, but I’m fine. Thanks, though.”
    “I was worried something like that would happen. Those restaurant people . . .”
    “Yeah?” I said hesitantly. Bo sounded like he wanted to tell me something. I was curious.
    “I used to work with that group. Well, my parents did when they ran the farm. The association members bought our onions, lots of onions. But then one day, they quit buying from us and started buying from someone they claimed was cheaper—who didn’t have as good onions as we did. It hurt our business, but mostly it hurt my mom’s feelings. She was sort of friends with Joan.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” That explained his earlier attitude. “When was this?”
    Bo waved his hand through the air. “Four years ago or so, but they haven’t changed.”
    Four years was a long time, and I doubted that the same people who were on the association board then were still on the board now.
    “Did you know the people who were here today?” I asked.
    “Just that Joan lady. She’s been around a long time. She’s been the president of the group for—well, I think since they put it together. I don’t like the way she treated you, but I’m not surprised. I’ll be sure and spread the word that none of us should go to her restaurant.”
    “Oh, no, that’s okay. My business wasn’t affected, Bo,” I said. “I’m fine, really.” He’d taken this even worse than I had. Getting even with Joan hadn’t crossed my mind—well, not seriously at least. “It’s okay if she didn’t like my products. I guess you win some and you lose some.” I shrugged, but I didn’t like the look on his face.
    “Did you see how she purposefully ignored my stall? Walked right on by, and so did everyone else—except Jake, of course. But between the work at the garden and the fact that he buys some onions from me anyway, we’ve gotten to know each other.”
    I hadn’t noticed that they’d ignored Bo. I’d been so caught up in my own drama that I hadn’t paid a bit of attention to whatever else the restaurant group had done since then, except leave. If they had ignored Bo, it was a rude thing to do, but I didn’t think I should add fuel to his fire.
    “Jake’s a great guy,” I said.
    Bo stood in front of my stall for a long moment and stared at me with angry eyes, though I couldn’t understand just exactly why he was angry. Was he upset at Joan, or at me for not making a bigger deal of the whole situation, or was he still living the anger of four years earlier? Did he want me to say something bad about Joan? I couldn’t bring myself to go there.
    I cleared my throat.
    “Yes, he is. Remember, Becca, you make delicious jams and preserves. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Y’hear?”
    I nodded and smiled, still not sure what he was most bothered about.
    “Will you be at the garden Sunday?” He asked, lightening the mood.
    Sunday was a busy day at Bailey’s, but a