Page 20 of Where It All Began
Someone slid into the empty seat on her right, and Phoebe glanced over into Michael Cardona’s mischievous eyes. “What did I miss?” he asked, reaching over her for Elvira’s popcorn.
“Thirty minutes on reasons why you should peep in your neighbor’s windows,” Elvira whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“Messing with John,” Michael said, throwing an arm around the back of Phoebe’s seat and spreading out in all directions.
Elvira rolled her eyes. “Men are basically children,” she sighed.
Phoebe nodded in agreement until John’s gaze tracked to her. She saw the narrowing of his eyes, and Michael’s corresponding shit-eating grin.
John gave Michael a good hard glare before clearing his throat. The mic picked up something that sounded pretty close to “asshole.” Michael snickered but dropped his arm from Phoebe’s shoulders.
John smoothed a hand over his paper and began to read. “As you know, I reluctantly represent Blue Moon’s farming community thanks to a vote that occurred when I wasn’t present.” The audience chuckled.
“In that capacity, I’ve had the opportunity to discuss some of the pressing matters our farmers face. We can narrow the biggest of them down to two issues: a lack of equipment and a lack of labor. Some of our farms have the equipment necessary but lack the hands to help. Others lack the equipment but have the labor.”
Phoebe listened raptly and noted that the audience was doing the same. It seemed that on the rare occasion when John Pierce spoke his mind, people listened.
“Our community is unique in many aspects, the best of them being our ability and desire to come together as a whole to support those who need it. We share what’s ours just as naturally as we gossip and snoop.”
Again, the audience tittered. Blue Moon apparently had a healthy sense of humor about its own quirks.
“Keeping that in mind, I have a proposal for the farmers of Blue Moon. By working as a team, a family—something we do quite naturally already—we could share access to top-of-the-line equipment and available labor, finishing work faster and more efficiently than if we keep our resources to ourselves.”
Hands began to fly up around the theater.
“Now, hang on. Let me get the rest of this out. If I lose my place now, I’ll never find my way back.”
Good-naturedly, the hands were withdrawn.Who knew community leadership could be sexy?Phoebe mused.
“Let me give you an example of how I foresee this working. Carson’s down a foreman this season, but he does have a semi for hauling grain. Now when Carson isn’t using that truck, it’s sitting there costing money, requiring maintenance. But if he would rent it out to the rest of us—for a reasonable fee—he’d have a nice little income that covers the cost of gas and maintenance. Or instead of cash, we could arrange a labor/equipment swap. I’d give him X amount of hours on his farm in return for use of the truck.”
The hands were back up, but John plowed on, his eyes glued to his speech, determined to get to the end.
“Another option would be renting equipment from the farm supply in Cleary. A couple of us have combines, but none of us have access to the newer technology which significantly cuts harvest time. If we pool our resources for say a four or five-day rental, the rental costs would be negligible, and the work would get done faster than if we tackled harvest on our own.”
Phoebe leaned in to Elvira. “It sounds like a great idea, but isn’t that kind of like communism?” she whispered.
Elvira laughed softly. “We prefer to think of it as commune-ism.”
After revisiting the broader points of unity and sharing, John’s speech stalled out, and Phoebe bet money he hadn’t written a conclusion. She bit her lip when he let out a long “Soooooo…”
Hazel moved up on John’s elbow and leaned into the mic. “So, anyone interested in John’s farm-sharing concept—which, if you want my two cents, is a smart idea—should reach out directly to John. I think we’ve covered everything we need to tonight so let’s adjourn.”
Hazel was smart enough not to let anyone else make a motion or ask one last question. She banged the gavel and hauled ass off the stage.
“All business that one,” Michael said, glaring in Hazel’s direction.
“You’ve just got your Fruit of the Looms in a bunch because Hazel turned you down for prom,” Elvira said, crumpling up her empty popcorn bag.
“You asked her to prom?” Phoebe asked, jumping on what had to be a good story.
Michael sulked and shrugged one shoulder. “I wasn’t serious.”
“Oh, I call bullshit!” Elvira pointed a dagger-like fingernail in his direction. “If you were just kidding, you wouldn’t have taken two Playboy wannabees in her place.”
“You took two women to your prom to spite the sheriff?”
“She wasn’t sheriff at the time,” Michael argued.
