The Year Money Grew on Trees Read Online Free
Author: Aaron Hawkins
some words that sounded very official in phrases like "it is agreed between the two parties." Mrs. Nelson would frequently interrupt him to correct details of the contract.
"It's $8,000 earned from apple sales, Mr. Palmer. Make sure you put in 'within a single growing season' too."
Jean was writing furiously on her paper and giggled when Mrs. Nelson would say something. Finally, Mr. Palmer looked up some numbers off a document that sounded like they described where the orchard was located.
"Now go type that up quickly, Jean, so we can get out of here. Oh, yes, what's your last name, Jackson?"
"Jones," I said, as Jean hurried out of the room to her typewriter.
Clack, clack, click, clack
came the sound from outside the door. The three of us stared around the office un
comfortably. To break the tension, I said, "She's a really fast typist."
"She better be," replied Mr. Palmer, looking away from us and out the window toward the parking lot.
When Jean returned, she kept smiling and chuckling to herself. She laid the piece of paper out on the desk in front of us. The same names were on the top of the paper as those I had seen above the door while we were walking into the building. There were places for Mrs. Nelson and me to sign our names. She signed "Violet Nelson." I hadn't known what her first name was before. I admired her signature for a couple of seconds before signing mine. My signature looked like a five-year-old's next to hers. Mr. Palmer signed as a witness, and it was done.
"So all nice and legal, huh?" Mrs. Nelson asked cheerfully.
"I don't know. Maybe. As long as you think so," mumbled Mr. Palmer, who was busy putting on a coat and stuffing things into his briefcase.
"Could I have a copy of it too? For my records?" I asked timidly.
Mr. Palmer looked back at me and gave his first grin. "Yeah, Jean, make him a copy. I'm sure you wouldn't mind staying a little later to do that and then showing them out. But I've got to go." And with that, he walked out of the office.
I had heard a lot about them but had never seen a copying machine work before. We were still getting ditto handouts in all my classes. It took Jean a few minutes to warm up the thing. I watched in awe as a flash of light swept over the typed page and a piece of paper that looked like a grayer, blurrier version of the original slid out.
It was already dark when we got home. I hurried back to my house and into my room before anyone could ask questions. I took my copy of the contract, folded it in two, and put it in between the pages of the single encyclopedia volume I had on a shelf. I had gotten it when they were having a promotion at the supermarket. They pretty much gave you the first volume, hoping you'd buy the rest of them. For one penny I got AâAr. I filed the contract under "Apple" and rushed out before anyone came looking for me.
Chapter 3
Help! Anyone?
I sneaked into the kitchen and joined the rest of my family for dinner. Upon seeing me, my mom instantly asked, "When did you come in? So what did you do to help Mrs. Nelson?"
"Oh, well, I think she just wanted some company."
"Really? Mrs. Nelson? A sixty-five-year-old woman wants you for company?"
"I also carried some stuff," I added quickly. In my mind "the stuff" was my copy of the contract and I had actually carried it home. So I felt that the last statement did have at least some truth to it.
"Well, that makes more sense. I guess it's nice that you're friendly with her. She's kind of kept to herself most of the time, but she's still our neighbor," Mom concluded, in what I hoped was the end of that conversation.
"'Kept to herself' is an interesting way of putting it," Dad blurted out. "Remember how she wouldn't speak to you for the first five years we were here?" He had a sarcastic grin on his face.
"Let's try not to judge Mrs. Nelson, honey," Mom said, staring at Dad with a determined look on her face. "If she's trying to be friendly to Jackson, he should be happy to be
"It's $8,000 earned from apple sales, Mr. Palmer. Make sure you put in 'within a single growing season' too."
Jean was writing furiously on her paper and giggled when Mrs. Nelson would say something. Finally, Mr. Palmer looked up some numbers off a document that sounded like they described where the orchard was located.
"Now go type that up quickly, Jean, so we can get out of here. Oh, yes, what's your last name, Jackson?"
"Jones," I said, as Jean hurried out of the room to her typewriter.
Clack, clack, click, clack
came the sound from outside the door. The three of us stared around the office un
comfortably. To break the tension, I said, "She's a really fast typist."
"She better be," replied Mr. Palmer, looking away from us and out the window toward the parking lot.
When Jean returned, she kept smiling and chuckling to herself. She laid the piece of paper out on the desk in front of us. The same names were on the top of the paper as those I had seen above the door while we were walking into the building. There were places for Mrs. Nelson and me to sign our names. She signed "Violet Nelson." I hadn't known what her first name was before. I admired her signature for a couple of seconds before signing mine. My signature looked like a five-year-old's next to hers. Mr. Palmer signed as a witness, and it was done.
"So all nice and legal, huh?" Mrs. Nelson asked cheerfully.
"I don't know. Maybe. As long as you think so," mumbled Mr. Palmer, who was busy putting on a coat and stuffing things into his briefcase.
"Could I have a copy of it too? For my records?" I asked timidly.
Mr. Palmer looked back at me and gave his first grin. "Yeah, Jean, make him a copy. I'm sure you wouldn't mind staying a little later to do that and then showing them out. But I've got to go." And with that, he walked out of the office.
I had heard a lot about them but had never seen a copying machine work before. We were still getting ditto handouts in all my classes. It took Jean a few minutes to warm up the thing. I watched in awe as a flash of light swept over the typed page and a piece of paper that looked like a grayer, blurrier version of the original slid out.
It was already dark when we got home. I hurried back to my house and into my room before anyone could ask questions. I took my copy of the contract, folded it in two, and put it in between the pages of the single encyclopedia volume I had on a shelf. I had gotten it when they were having a promotion at the supermarket. They pretty much gave you the first volume, hoping you'd buy the rest of them. For one penny I got AâAr. I filed the contract under "Apple" and rushed out before anyone came looking for me.
Chapter 3
Help! Anyone?
I sneaked into the kitchen and joined the rest of my family for dinner. Upon seeing me, my mom instantly asked, "When did you come in? So what did you do to help Mrs. Nelson?"
"Oh, well, I think she just wanted some company."
"Really? Mrs. Nelson? A sixty-five-year-old woman wants you for company?"
"I also carried some stuff," I added quickly. In my mind "the stuff" was my copy of the contract and I had actually carried it home. So I felt that the last statement did have at least some truth to it.
"Well, that makes more sense. I guess it's nice that you're friendly with her. She's kind of kept to herself most of the time, but she's still our neighbor," Mom concluded, in what I hoped was the end of that conversation.
"'Kept to herself' is an interesting way of putting it," Dad blurted out. "Remember how she wouldn't speak to you for the first five years we were here?" He had a sarcastic grin on his face.
"Let's try not to judge Mrs. Nelson, honey," Mom said, staring at Dad with a determined look on her face. "If she's trying to be friendly to Jackson, he should be happy to be
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