"Spores?"
"Yep. Fungal, and it's so virulent that it can destroy plants in one month if untreated."
"Damn, that is a hateful one." Harry pondered. "What can the farmers do?"
"Spray, but that's expensive. The chemicals to kill Asian rust cost eighteen dollars an acre. Not cheap."
"Did it get here on a plane—you know, spores on someone's pants?" Harry was curious.
"No. It's the damnedest thing. Hurricane Ivan carried it here in a matter of weeks. It's been moving slowly through Asia, then Africa, and then South America—slowly as in decades—and all it took was one big hurricane to carry the spores across the ocean."
"But Hurricane Ivan was two years ago."
"Hit Florida bad, and that's where they first found the fungus, on kudzu."
"God, kudzu will take over the universe." Harry gasped.
"I don't know about the universe, but the spores sure managed to get from the kudzu in Florida to the soybeans in Georgia with unseemly haste." He handed out the rest of the apple treats. "I e-mailed Ned and he e-mailed back. I didn't know that soybeans account for sixteen percent of our country's agriculture production. Soybeans are twelve percent of U.S. export. Tell you what—first, that impressed me, and then second, Ned is up to speed."
As they walked back to the house Harry quietly said, "You're as caught up in this murder stuff as I am."
"I'm the one telling you to butt out, keep your nose out of other people's business."
He brushed his boots on the hedgehog scraper outside the screen door. "But I keep coming back to vineyards and revenge of some sort."
"And to the fact that growing grapes and making wine are becoming big business. There's millions to be made."
"But first you have to spend millions. It's a rich person's game. People like Dinny Ostermann benefit, and I hope we do, too, but we won't make the millions."
"What else have you been doing at your computer?" She felt Pewter brush against her leg as she walked into the kitchen.
"Tuna!"
"Pewter, let me make tea. I need a pick-me-up. You'll get your tuna soon enough."
Fair smiled. "How do we know she isn't saying, 'rib eye rare'?"
"Yes!"Pewter stood on her hind legs.
Mrs. Murphy along with Tucker padded into the kitchen."A ballerina. Our very own toe dancer "
"If we get steak it will be because of me,"Pewter bragged.
"Steak!"Tucker's ears stood straight up and forward.
As it happened, Fair decided to grillsteak. Harry knew not to interfere with his cooking, but she had to laugh behind his back at how "the boys," as she thought of them, ruthlessly competed about their grilling techniques. Ned, Jim, Blair, Tracy, even Paul de Silva had outdoor grills. She didn't know what he was doing out there with his apron around his waist as he wielded a dangerously sharp long fork and knife.
When Fair brought in the steaks, the aroma filled the kitchen.
As they ate their supper, giving the animals small steak tidbits, they kept going over events.
Harry rose to shut the kitchen window. "When the sun sets, the chill comes up fast. This is the coolest May I remember."
"It is."
"Hope you don't have any emergencies tomorrow."
"Me, too. What did you have in mind?"
She put on her sweetest smile. "Herb said Coop could move in when she was ready, so why don't we take the horse trailer and load up her stuff? One haul will do it. She doesn't have much."
This wasn't the Sunday he'd hoped for,but he figured silently that with his muscle power and Harry's organizing abilities they should be able to pull this off in three compressed hours. "Sure. She'll make a good neighbor."
"I'll make it worth your while." Harry smiled.
"Even if you don't, it's hard for a man to win when two women gang up on him, and one is his beautiful wife."
"You are such a flatterer." But she loved it.
37
Maps spread over the hood of her truck, Harry pointed to acres she had shaded with different-colored pencils. Susan peered down as traffic pulled in and out at the post office parking lot, a big parking lot for Crozet.
"Here's Carter's Mountain," Harry said as the two cats and dog watched people, arms laden with mail, bills, and magazines, come and go.
"Harry." Susan put her hand on Harry's shoulder. "I can read a map."
"Sorry. Well, anyway, this is what Patricia and Bill own. Down here is what Hy and Fiona own—I should just say Fiona. White Vineyards, about three hundred acres. Over here is Toby's, and Toby is just under two hundred acres, and here is Rollie. Arch andRollie's Spring Hill, the main part, is also two hundred acres—well, two twenty. These days that's a lot for Crozet. Okay, shaded in apple green are small growers who sell to the large ones."
"What's the pink?"
"Those are small farms Rollie and Arch have bought up. When you add Rockland— Toby's—to it, Spring Hill controls just under five hundred acres."
Just then Arch pulled into the post office. He emerged from his truck. "Are you coming back to work here?"
"No." Harry smiled.
"It's not the same without you and Miranda. Yeah, the big building and the extra post boxes are good, but we've lost something." He walked over. "Now, what are you up to?"
"Vineyards. Who owns what, who controls what, and you're coming out on top."
He smiled broadly. "Good for Spring Hill. Harry, any more sharpshooters?"
"No. Not yet anyway."
"You just never know. I sure hope they aren't adjusting to the latitude and the warmer winters. If they do, we're in big trouble. Well, let me go pick up the mail. Nice tosee you." He turned, then stopped. "Are you two going to put more acres in grapes?"
"Not yet," Harry answered.
"Buy land while you can. There will bea point in Albemarle County where it will be only the very rich and the very poor."
"I don't think I'm going to ever qualify as the very rich." Harry laughed.
"Me, either," Susan agreed.
"Not true. If either of you ladies ever sell the land you've inherited, you'll be worth millions. Let me know. Rollie has a big bankroll."
"Arch, if I sell my land, I sell my birthright," Harry said.
"Me, too. The Bland Wade tract has been in our family since right after the Revolutionary War."
"That's well and good, but if property taxes keep going up, and you know they will, and if, for some reason, your nursery business doesn't bring in enough cash, you'll be land poor, sure as shooting."
"Somehow, Arch, we'll hang on. The land is who we are." Harry spoke for herself and Susan.
"Well, keep it in mind. You never know. And you're both very smart ladies." He smiled and left.
"I guess on paper we're already millionaires based on the value of the land." Susan thought it out.
"We are?" Harry hadn't given it a thought.
"Pretty sure. It was our good fortune to be born into families that never sold off their land no matter how bad the times were. How they kept it together through the booms and busts of the nineteenth century, the war, the horrible aftermath, and then the crash in the 1930s—it's a testimony to how much they loved this place and how much they believed in the future."
"It really is," Harry solemnly replied. "We'll do our part, no matter what."
Arch walked back out of the post office, cell phone to his ear, and waved to the ladies. As he drove by, he slowed and said, "Rollie will pay twenty percent over current market value. He's on a roll."
"A lot of land has opened up in the last month," Harry blurted out. "Seems like you two have come out ahead."
Arch stopped the truck for a minute. "Can't let established vines go to ruin. Thewine industry has come too far in Virginia, know what I mean?"
"Fiona is going forward," Susan said.