The Year Money Grew on Trees Read Online Free Page B

orchard before but stopped myself.
    "Well, my husband was always doing something in there, even in the winter. He never really told me what it was, though," she replied, after what seemed a few moments of her deepest concentration. We both turned to look at the trees, until she finally said, "I'm going in. It's freezing out here. I just wanted to see how things were going so far."
    "Thanks," I whispered.
    I turned and started toward my house. I really wanted to ask my dad for advice. Even if he didn't know specifically about apples, he always seemed to figure out every problem that popped up around the house. Talking to him would be tricky. I had to first tell him I couldn't work at Slim's scrap yard and then convince him that trying to raise apples for Mrs. Nelson was a good idea. He would have to be in the right mood, and I would have to warm him up slowly. Just springing a new idea on him always ended badly for me. Once, I had interrupted an argument he was having with my mom about the way she ironed his shirts. I announced I was growing my hair long and feathering it like the kids on the TV show
Eight Is Enough.
We immediately left for Farmington and drove around until we found an open barber shop. Dad told the barber to give me a "going into the army" cut.
    ***
    Over the next two days, I watched for the right opportunity. By Friday night I was getting desperate because I knew Dad was planning to drag me to Slim Nickle's the next day. I found myself alone with him as he tried to fix our washing machine. It was a risky environment because his mood basically depended on how the repairs were going. If the reported leak wasn't located and fixed within an hour, even if I told him Mrs. Nelson was giving me a million dollars, he would think it was a bad idea.
    I prayed for the best and started in. "So how does it look?"
    Dad rattled off his theories on what might be wrong and his plan of attack as I repeated "uh-huh" after every explanation.
    "Dad, what did Mom mean when she said that Mrs. Nelson used to keep to herself a lot?" I asked after a couple minutes of silence.
    The question caught him a little off-guard, but he grinned and seemed happy to discuss the topic. "Don't tell your mom I told you, but when we first moved in here, Violet Nelson was not happy about it at all," he said in a quiet voice, as if he were explaining a government conspiracy. "Why not?"
    "Well, the Nelsons used to own all of this property,
including our lot and your uncle's lot. Then they had some financial crisis and had to sell off a chunk. That's when we moved in and built these houses. Old Lady Nelson acted like we were really trashing up the place."
    "How about Mr. Nelson? What was he like?"
    "Jack Nelson? He was okay. He would stop and talk to me if he saw me, but only if he was by himself. Pretty quiet."
    "What did he do for a job?"
    "Oh, sold insurance or something like that. Why?"
    "Just wondering why he planted that orchard in front. To make extra money?"
    "I doubt it. Probably more of a hobby. Always trying to get his son to help him with it, but I think he liked sitting in the house more."
    "You mean Tommy?"
    "That's the one. The baby boy. Hand me that screwdriver."
    "So did you ever watch Mr. Nelson in the orchard? I mean, do you know what kind of things he had to do to get the apples to grow?"
    "No, not really. I never wanted to be a farmer."
    My heart sank. He probably wasn't going to be much help in terms of advice.
    "Ha-ha!" Dad yelled out. "I tell you what I am, a mechanical genius! It's fixed! No more leak. I'll bet that saved us fifty bucks," he said with a toothy smile on his
face and arms in the air. He looked down at me and then remembered our conversation. "So why you asking about that orchard?"
    This was my chance. He was never in a better mood than after having saved some money.
    "Mrs. Nelson asked me to help raise some apples this year. It would be like a job."
    Dad gave me a long look. "Oh yeah? How much is she going to pay