Read Online Siren's Storm by Lisa Papademetriou - Free Book Online

told Gretchen as she popped a blackberry into her mouth. Will shoved his finger into a pod and let the heavy beans fall into the aluminum bowl with a gentle
ping-ping-ping
. Shelled beans meant more money, just like washed mesclun greens versus straight from the field.
Prep work is for peons, like me
.
    “I’m buying this,” Gretchen insisted as she took another blackberry from the stained paper crate. She grinned impishly. The dark juice had stained the edges of her teeth purple. A breeze ruffled her wilddandelion hair, and for a moment Will could see the six-year-old Gretchen again.
    “When was the last time you bought anything from this stand?” Will demanded.
    “It’s not my fault that your father never lets us pay.” She picked up a large box of golden cherry tomatoes and placed it in a shallow cardboard tray next to the blackberries. “These are like candy,” she said as she popped one into her mouth.
    “They’re my favorites.” The golden tomatoes grew fat and sweet, as if they’d soaked up the flavor of the sun. The heavy rain had caused a few to split, their sweetness calling the fruit flies to come feast. Will knew that they would have to sell them fast.
    Gretchen leaned down and patted Guernsey, Will’s old black Lab, who was curled up in her usual spot beneath the wood table that held the cash register, fresh honey supplied by a local apiary, and stick candy. Guernsey lifted her dark eyes and sniffed Gretchen’s hand, then tucked her head back onto her foreleg and went back to drowsing.
    “Sweet old thing,” Gretchen said.
    Guernsey didn’t deny it.
    Gravel crunched as a beat-up Ford rolled into the lot. It was late afternoon, and folks had been trickling in all day. Usually the farm stand was busy early—the caffeinated type A personalities liked to shop for freshly baked scones and fruit at seven in the morning. It would stay quiet until four-thirty, when the cocktail crowd started to appear, looking for something to serve alongside their artisanal cheeses andimported crackers, and gourmet cooks would frown over arugula and thump cantaloupes.
    But this was no epicure coming to inspect peaches. “Great,” Will said as long legs unfolded from the tiny silver car. “Another freeloader.”
    “Hey!” Angus called as he loped over toward them. When he saw Gretchen, he ran a hand through his bushy brown hair. “Where have you people been hiding?”
    “Angus!” Gretchen waved, and Angus’s face lit up like something that had just been plugged in. “You have to try one of these.”
    Angus was about to protest, but she popped a cherry tomato into his mouth. “You’re doing tastings now?” Angus teased.
    “Will never gives anything away for free, but these are mine,” Gretchen told him. “Have a blackberry.”
    Angus opened his mouth and let her feed him again. He smiled at her as he chewed.
    “We rinse off all the manure before we put the stuff out,” Will told him.
    Gretchen rolled her eyes, but Angus looked a little unsure.
    “Kidding,” Will told him. “We don’t rinse anything.”
    “Wi-ill.”
Gretchen stretched his name to two syllables. It was her complaining voice. “Ignore him, Angus. Want more?” She held out the box of fat, glossy blackberries.
    “Um, no thanks,” Angus told her. He hopped onto the wide wooden table and sat down. “Listen, I actually came over to invite you guys to a party.”
    “Your mom is unbarring the gates?” Will asked.
    “No way, dude. Not after what happened last year—my place is in lockdown until graduation. But Ansell’s having a thing. Next Friday.”
    “On his beach?” Gretchen asked, and Angus nodded. “Sweet.”
    Harry Ansell was rich. Seriously rich. But his parents did a lot for the town, so the regular Walfangers didn’t completely despise them. Will knew Harry and didn’t think he was a bad guy. Not the brightest, but not horrible.
    “I’ll drive,” Gretchen volunteered, looking at Will.
    “I’m not