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I grab one as well, following her inside. “You got that?”
“Oh sure.” She shakes her head, laughing. “I’ll be doing a lot more than carrying boxes once harvest starts next week.”
She flicks on a window unit, and I place the box beside her cash register. “You guys work hard.”
Thinking back to the first year I was here, I couldn’t believe how much her family accomplished in one month. Peaches are too fragile to be picked and sorted by machines. They’re able to use some tools, but most of it is hand-picking, hand-sorting—backbreaking work in the hottest part of the year.
“Every May I wonder how we’re going get everything done.” She laughs, whipping her dark hair into a ponytail on top of her head. “Then we do.”
“Jesus loves the little chillll-dren…” Noel’s little daughter Dove marches up, carrying a box and singing at the top of her lungs. “All the children of the world!”
“Pipe down, Dolly.” Noel takes the box from her and puts it on the counter.
“Miss Tina said we’re going to learn it in sign language!” She joins her little hands like a bird flying.
Dove’s a character with bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair. I think of Sofia and how the little girls might be friends if Angel and I lived here and she visited us.
“Would you bring the rest of the boxes in from the porch?”
“Okay!” She takes off for the door, and Noel takes jars of face cream and body lotion from the smaller one.
“I’ve got a lot of stock ready ahead of time this year.” She puts the jars on the counter before returning to the register. “I worked all through the spring.”
“How’s it going?”
“Good.” She nods. “I’m dead.”
“You could hire someone to cover shifts during harvest.”
“I guess, but I don’t like sitting around.”
“I help with the sorting now!” Dove marches up, carrying an enormous cardboard box, almost bigger than she is. “Uncle Sawyer says I’m as good as the teenagers!”
“Whoa, hang on there.” I take the giant box from her, but it’s surprisingly light. Opening the flap, I see what looks like a bunch of papers. “What is this?”
“Oh, that.” Noel walks over, and we both move the contents around. “It was here when Miss Jessica gave me the place. I wanted her to go through it and make sure it’s nothing important.”
Miss Jessica is the octogenarian nursing home resident who gave the feed shed to Noel to renovate. Noel cleaned it, painted and wired it, and now it rivals anything you’d see on Main Street, with flowers and a front porch.
I pull out an old ledger and what appear to be receipts. The dates on some are older than I am. “I’m not sure any of this is worth keeping.”
“Yeah, she told me to throw it all away, but look here.” Noel digs deeper, pulling out a few envelopes and handing them to me. “There are letters…”
Turning the envelopes in my hand, I open the flap and stop. “I guess this might be personal?”
She exhales, shaking her head. “You’re right. I should just sort through it all and make a bundle of things I think she really wants to keep.”
“I didn’t say that—” Dove pats on my leg, and I lift her onto a nearby chair. “It would be nice if you had time, but you’re pretty busy.”
“Look at this one, Mamma!” Dove holds up a letter with an ornate stamp attached. “Can I have it?”
Noel takes the letter from her daughter and studies it. “I don’t know, baby. This one might be worth something. Is that French?”
She hands it to me, and I examine the stamp. “I can’t tell. Maybe Vietnamese?”
“Well, that does it.” She shakes her head. “I’ll go through it tonight and make a stack to take to Miss Jessica.”
“You know, I’m just sitting in a hotel room. I could help you.”
