Berried Secrets Read Online Free Page B

forehead.
    â€œReady?” he said economically.
    Monica nodded and followed him down the path toward the open field that led to the cranberry bogs. Walking slightly behind him, she could see the stiff set of his shoulders and head.
    Jeff whirled around suddenly. “I can’t believe Sam Culbert would cheat me like that. There must be some mistake.” His jaw clenched tightly. “He’s a well-respected businessman for Pete’s sake.”
    Monica hung her head. They’d been over all this the evening before.
“
I doubt there’s any mistake, but we should have a professional come in and audit the books.”
    Jeff slammed his clenched fist into the open palm of his other hand. “How could he do that to me? I trusted him. While I was over in Afghanistan dodging bombs and bullets, he was lining his pockets at my expense.” He kicked savagely at a bare branch that was blocking their path. “And just yesterday he came around to see how I was doing.” Jeff gave a bitter laugh. “Here he was offering me help with one hand while stealing from me with the other.”
    And he strode ahead, leaving Monica to break into a slow trot in an attempt to catch up.
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    The leaves on the trees ringing the bog were just beginning to change color, tinged with the barest hint of red and gold. Soon they would be in their full glory. Monica took a deep breath. She loved this time of year.
    The bog had been flooded the previous evening and was now under more than a foot of water. A large truck was pulled up close to the side, and there was a chute running from it to the water.
    Jeff gestured toward it. “A pump will suck the berries out of the water, up the chute and into the cleaner, where they’ll be separated from any twigs, leaves, pieces of vine or other debris. Once that’s done, the berries will be pumped into the truck.”
    Monica noticed that Jeff’s crew had already gathered at the edge of the bog. They, too, were dressed in jeans and warm sweatshirts, most with scruffy beards and knitted caps pulled down over their foreheads. They were nursing Styrofoam cups of coffee, and a nearly empty box of doughnuts sat open on the remains of a tree stump.
    Jeff introduced the five men who would be helping him with the harvest. They nodded at Monica briefly, their hands shoved in their pockets, obviously impatient to get going.
    Jeff gestured toward the bog. “That’s a year’s worth of work right there. Watering and tackling weeds in the summer, sanding the bog and keeping it protected from frost in the winter, fertilizing in the spring and finally harvesting. There’s a lot riding on this crop.”
    One of the men turned toward Jeff. “Should we get going, boss?” He had blond curls sticking out from under his cap, and crinkles around his blue eyes.
    â€œLet’s go.”
    The men took off at a trot toward a pile of waders—they looked like waterproof overalls with feet—and donned them swiftly, thanks to years of practice. Two of them headed toward a pair of machines that looked like a cross between a jet ski and a lawn mower.
    â€œWhat are those?” Monica asked, pulling her sweatshirt down over her hands. It was still cold—the sun was low on the horizon, and the sky to the west was barely lit.
    â€œThose are water reels, although we jokingly call them eggbeaters,” Jeff explained. “They agitate the water and remove the berries from the vines.”
    Just then one of the reels started up with a roar. Two startled loons rose from the bog and streaked across the sky. The reels moved up and down the bog, churning the water and shattering the silence. Slowly the cranberries were freed from the vines. They floated to the surface like bright red bubbles.
    Two of the men plunged into the bog, wading through the thigh-high water. The one in the red cap turned toward the bank where Jeff