Ethan swallowed.
“Forty-five thousand.”
The banker removed his glasses.
Grace stopped breathing.
Mr. Collins stared.
“Last year, you asked us to defer a six-thousand-dollar payment.”
“I know.”
“And now you want forty-five.”
“Yes.”
“For?”
“Milking equipment.”
“Cooling.”
“Cheese vat.”
“Packaging.”
“Small aging room expansion.”
“Working capital.”
Mr. Collins tapped the papers.
“And more goats.”
“Eventually.”
The banker closed the folder.
“I cannot approve forty-five thousand based on a potential contract.”
“I know.”
“Even with the contract, collateral is thin.”
“I know.”
“This farm already secures the operating note.”
“I know.”
Grace looked disappointed.
Ethan had expected it.
Still hurt.
Mr. Collins stood.
“Get the signed purchase agreement.”
“Then?”
“No promise.”
“But then we talk.”
That was something.
Not enough.
Something.
Friday morning arrived gray.
Rain threatened.
Exactly the kind of weather that made the farm look less successful than it was.
Mud.
Bare trees.
Old barn boards.
The farm store sign slightly crooked.
Ethan tried straightening it.
Grace stopped him.
“If they reject us because the sign leans half an inch, we have bigger problems.”
“They’re restaurant buyers.”
“They notice presentation.”
“Then maybe remove Calvin from the road.”
Ethan looked.
Calvin’s truck had just stopped near the goat pen.
Of course.
Two other neighbors with him.
“What does he want?”
“Attention.”
Calvin stepped out.
He held a cup of coffee.
“Big day?”
Ethan ignored him.
Calvin leaned on the fence.
“Heard buyers are coming.”
News again.
“You installing a radio tower in town?”
Calvin smiled.
“People talk.”
“Apparently.”
“What are they buying?”
“Cheese.”
Calvin laughed.
“From grocery garbage goats?”
Grace whispered:
“I can push him into the trough.”
Ethan almost smiled.
“No.”
Calvin continued.
“You really want restaurants telling customers their cheese comes from goats eating trash?”
Ethan finally looked at him.
“You want the actual answer?”
“Sure.”
“They already know.”
Calvin’s grin weakened.
Ethan continued.
“They asked for our feed protocol.”
“Safety records.”
“Milk tests.”
“Waste-recovery procedures.”
“Compost plan.”
“They know more about how these goats are fed than most customers know about yours.”
One farmer beside Calvin looked uncomfortable.
Calvin snorted.
“Good marketing.”
Ethan shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“Doesn’t change what it is.”
“No.”
“That’s the point.”
Calvin frowned.
Before he could answer, a black SUV entered the driveway.
Grace whispered:
“They’re here.”
Ethan wiped his hands.
The three buyers stepped out.