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the fall. In between were berries, dewberries and raspberries and blackberries and strawberries.
    “I’m going to be busy,” Glory exclaimed when Consuelo pointed out the various surrounding fields.
    “We both are,” the older woman replied. “I was thinking about giving up this job. It’s too much for one woman. But two of us, we can manage, I think. The jams and jellies and pickles will add a lot to our revenue if they sell. They’re popular with tourists. We also stock them at the local florist shop, and they’re put in gift baskets. We have a processing plant for the organic vegetables and an online shop that our warehouse operates. They ship orders. But this is early days for our specialty canning. I’ve only managed to do the usual things, fruit preserves and jellies. I would love to do small batches of organic corn and peas and beans as well, but they mostly do those at the processing center in bulk. Besides, those require the pressure cooker to process and more time than I have had since Rodrigo took charge. He is a dynamo, that man.”
    “Pressure cookers make me nervous,” Glory began.
    “We’ve all heard terrible stories about how they can explode,” Consuelo chuckled. “But this is a new age. They all have fail safe controls now a days. Anyway, we won’t use them here. Let me show you what we’re working on. It’s an easy job.”
     
    E ASY . T HE WORK WAS . Glory’s hip pained her, and she spent some of her time on a heating pad. But Consuelo found her a stool and she adjusted to the new physical demands of her job.
    Rodrigo, however, was not easy. He seemed to have taken an instant dislike to Glory and was determined to say as little to her as possible in the course of a day.
    He seemed to think she was a useless person. He was impersonally tolerant of her disability, but he often looked at her as if he suspected that her brain was locked away in a fleshy cabinet and was only taken out occasionally to be polished. She wondered what he’d think if he knew what she did for a living and why she was actually down here. It amused her to consider his reaction.
    One day, he brought a new man into the house and told Consuelo that he would be overseeing the men while Rodrigo had to be away over the weekend. Glory didn’t like the newcomer at all. He seemed to never look anyone in the eye. He was small and swarthy and he made a point of staring at Glory’s body when he spoke to her. Already uneasy around men she didn’t know, this one was causing her some real problems.
    Consuelo noticed, and she got between the man and Glory when he became too friendly.
    “I cannot imagine what was in Señor Ramirez’s mind when he hired that Castillo man as an assistant,” Consuelo muttered to Glory when they were alone in the kitchen. “I don’t like having him around here. He’s spent time in jail.”
    “How did you know that?” Glory asked. She knew the answer, but she wondered if Consuelo was just sensing the man’s past or if there was a reason for the remark.
    “The muscles in his arms and torso are huge, and he has tattoos everywhere.” She mentioned one particular tattoo that marked him as a member of one of the more notorious Los Angeles street gangs.
    Glory, who knew about gang members all too well, was surprised and impressed by the woman’s knowledge.
    “What is he doing here?” Glory asked aloud, pondering.
    “I would not dare to ask,” came the solemn reply. “Señor Pendleton should be told, but it would be worth my job to mention it outside the house. We will have to trust that Rodrigo knows what he is doing.”
    “There’s a strange bird,” Glory remarked. “Rodrigo. He’s very cultured and quite intelligent. I’m sure he could write his own ticket in management anywhere he wanted to work. He seems out of place on a truck farm.”
    Consuelo chuckled. “I would not ask that one anything which was not necessary for the performance of my job,” she replied. “From time to