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Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 64 One thing )^for sure; Colby \a natural at selling produce. Like most of the men around here, Colby % sparse with his vocabulary, but I got an education J0&W. I always figured the men I lived around were either shy or short of breath, but now I kngjw they just tallra different language than the rest of us. Colby c^i barely utter a sentence in English, but as soon as he start^ talking Farm, well, words flow from his mouth like water from Willard Creek. Morning went without a hitch except for Colby forgetting the money Dad gave him for change. But we made do. By noon, things started to slow a bit and I was grateful for the break. Everyone was saying the same thing, "These are the best looking strawberries I've ever seen!" Then they said the same thing about the beans and the tomatoes and everything else. I guess potatoes look better in a French Market. After lunch, things picked back up and, by closing time, we were running shy of product. At the end of the day, my pockets were bulging with money and Colby was busting with pride. By the time Colby lowered the awning, I was working out our profits. Just counting the big bills, I tallied over two hundred and twenty dollars. What with the wad of ones and fives I left to count later, I figure we took in almost three hundred dollars. I was proud. Colby had practically sold the place bare and my pockets were stuffed with more cash than I'd seen in my whole life. Problem is, I hadn't stopped long enough to think what a powerful lot of trouble all that money was going to cause. You see, I was richer than Midas, but I was feeling just as puny as I felt yesterday when I was holding Mr. Morris' fat check. |