The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [61]
I gave her a troubled look. "I'm sure she can keep track of it all. As long as someone doesn't try to steal it," I muttered. It was something else to worry about.
We kept listening for what might be happening up at the road, straining to hear any cars pulling over. After about thirty minutes, the suspense became too much.
"Michael, go find out if anyone has stopped and if they've sold anything," said Amy.
Michael ran off eagerly to check while we waited nervously. I was having even more trouble than usual keeping the apples attached to the stems. In a few minutes, Michael came back breathing hard from running. "Three people stopped, but nobody bought anything."
No one was sure how to take the news. Was it more important that people were stopping or that no one was buying? "Okay, thanks," I said. "We'll have to send you back every once in a while." Michael ran back and forth about every thirty minutes. On his third trip, he reported the first sale and we all gave a little cheer.
"Hope it was that pear box," I said, smiling at him.
The second sale didn't come until a couple of hours later, about the time we decided to pack things up for the night. We drove the tractor back up to the road and greeted Lisa and Jennifer.
"So how was it?" asked Amy. "We heard you sold two boxes," she said encouragingly.
"Well, for one thing, we didn't have any change," said Lisa. "We could have probably sold another two or three more if we would have had change."
"Oh man, I didn't even think about that," I groaned.
"Yeah, I know," Lisa replied in an irritated voice. "Another thing is that everyone said that someone else was selling them down the road for $8, so we might have to lower our price."
"How many would you have sold for $8?" asked Amy.
"Probably a lot more," Lisa answered.
"Well?" Amy asked, looking over at me.
It was an easy calculation: charging $8 per box for a thousand boxes would not cover the $8,000 plus expenses. All the money we earned would go straight to Mrs. Nelson, and we'd end up with nothing, not even the orchard. Then again, if no apples sold, we wouldn't even get close. "Let's try $8 tomorrow, then," I said. Since the trees seemed to have produced more apples than I anticipated, if we could just get more boxes, maybe we could push past the $8,000.
"Did people like the apples, though, when they saw them?" asked Amy.
"They seemed to," said Lisa. "The Navajos called them white apples, and they wanted to check the box to make sure we didn't put wormy ones at the bottom."
Fruitland was right across the river from the Navajo Indian reservation, so there were lots of Navajos driving back and forth on Highway 550 in front of our house. They would be a large percentage of our customers, so it was important that they liked the apples.
"Some people asked for a sample, but I didn't know what to say," Lisa continued.
"I think you should just give them one and let them try," said Amy.
I nodded in agreement.
"Let's try to borrow some money from our parents tonight so we can get change. It sounds like we can sell a lot more with the right price and with change," Amy concluded with a little anticipation in her voice.
We rolled up the banners and stuck them into the station wagon along with as many apple boxes as would fit. The rest we loaded behind the tractor and drove back home.
My mom agreed to lend us ten $1 bills for Wednesday, and my aunt lent us five more. Before going to bed, I made a sign out of a piece of cardboard that said $8.
***
On Wednesday afternoon business was a lot different. While Amy and I picked, Michael ran back and forth with reports. Within the first hour, four boxes had sold and then six in the next. Sam had to pile more boxes into the wagon and take them up to the road. Amy and I kept guessing as to how many boxes would be sold by the end of the day. At dusk we threw the picking bags on the ladders and walked out to the road.
Lisa looked flustered but happy. "Today was much better!" she said when she saw us.
"So