Rebecca smiled.
“Can you do it?”
Ethan looked at Grace.
She looked back.
Possible.
Difficult.
But possible.
“Yes.”
Rebecca extended her hand.
“Then congratulations.”
Ethan shook.
Outside, Calvin Reed was laughing.
He had not heard.
Not yet.
The refrigerated truck arrived twenty minutes later.
Not for pickup.
For a test cold-chain delivery transfer.
The distributor wanted to inspect loading workflow.
But from across the yard, it looked like business had suddenly exploded.
Workers rolled crates.
Clipboards passed.
Rebecca discussed pallet sizes.
Grace called their packaging supplier.
Ethan walked toward the goat pen.
Calvin stared at the truck.
“What is that?”
“Buyer.”
“For what?”
“Cheese.”
“How much?”
Ethan did not answer.
Calvin laughed uneasily.
“Couple boxes?”
Grace came outside carrying the signed agreement.
She was smiling too broadly to hide anything.
Calvin saw.
His face changed.
“What?”
Grace handed the folder to Ethan.
He closed it.
Calvin stepped closer.
“How much?”
“One hundred twenty pounds a week to start.”
Silence.
“And twelve hundred soap bars.”
One of Calvin’s friends whistled.
Calvin’s expression tightened.
“That won’t last.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t have enough milk.”
“We know.”
“So?”
“We expand.”
“With what money?”
There it was.
Calvin smiled.
He knew the farm’s weakness.
Everyone did.
Ethan’s system had improved margins.
But scale required capital.
The bank had not agreed.
Calvin folded his arms.
“Big contract means nothing if you can’t fill it.”
Ethan looked toward the barn.
Correct.
Then Rebecca Lane walked over.
“Mr. Miller?”
“Yes?”
“One more thing.”
She handed him another page.
“This isn’t part of the purchase agreement.”
He read.
A letter of intent from the distributor.
Guaranteeing minimum purchase volume if Ethan completed capacity expansion.
Exactly the document the bank needed.
Grace saw.
Her mouth opened.
Calvin could not read from where he stood.
“What?”
Ethan folded the paper.
“Nothing.”
Calvin laughed.
“That usually means bad news.”
Ethan slipped it into his jacket.
“Maybe.”
Then a loud crash came from the goat pen.
Everyone turned.
One doe had pushed against a loose wooden side panel near the trough.
The board fell outward.
Goats scattered briefly.
Beneath the panel, something became visible.
A shallow concrete channel.
Dark liquid and shredded organic matter moved slowly downhill beneath a grated section.
Rebecca frowned.
“What is that?”
Calvin laughed.
“Looks like his sewer broke.”
Ethan walked over.
He lifted another removable panel.
Then another.
The channel continued.
Covered.
Designed.