sharp jolt might cause her to bite her tongue if she opened her mouth. The truck finally slowed and stopped in front of what looked like a small cemetery surrounded by a low, wrought iron gate.
“This is the family plot,” Lula explained, her pink chiffon bobbing behind her head in the mild wind that kicked up. Crunchy leaves skittered between low headstones as she swung open the entry. Walking up to an oblong stone, Lula kissed her fingertips and touched it.
Lyssa came to stand at her side while Hayden stayed back a few feet, folding his denim-clad arms across his chest and planting his feet shoulder-width apart. He’d had his fun in the barn and was back in business mode.
“This is my granddad,” their hostess continued. “Even as a youngster, I was never much interested in the things girls were supposed to be interested in. Instead of running off to pick flowers or play with Grandma’s dolls during visits to the farm, I’d sit on the porch with him. He talked a lot, but he also listened, and together we solved a lot of the world’s great mysteries.” She chuckled.
It occurred to Lyssa that her earlier horror-film fears should’ve been heightened now that they were sitting in a remote cemetery, but Lula’s weapon of choice didn’t seem to be axes or anything of the sort. No, she apparently planned to string them along to death. A quick glance at Hayden’s tightening jaw told Lyssa her partner was thinking along the same lines.
“One thing Granddad continually impressed upon me was that everything comes down to the individual. People want to blame what they call society for humankind’s problems, but society is made up of individuals, and they’re the ones who direct it. Sometimes they don’t realize until too late where they’ve let things get to, and by then they’ve given up too much power to political and corporate forces. But all’s not lost. It’s simply time for the individuals to turn the societal tides bit by bit. Unfortunately, patience isn’t something we humans are known for.”
It certainly wasn’t Hayden’s strong point at the moment. Lula kept her thoughtful gaze on her granddad’s memorial, so she didn’t see Hayden’s twitching eye or the WTF look he leveled at Lyssa. When their host’s silence lingered, he ventured, “Your granddad sounds like a very wise man … Was he the one who got you interested in investments?”
Lula turned and looked at him. “Not really.” Then she got up and returned to the truck without another word.
Back at the house, Lula led them into the kitchen, saying, “Time to start dinner.”
Lyssa noticed Hayden’s clenching and unclenching fists. As much as she enjoyed watching the typically in-control associate’s irritation mount, she didn’t want him to combust, so she spoke up. “Lula, it’s been lovely getting the tour of your family farm, but surely you realize that the purpose of our visit is to get a deeper understanding of your investment process and resources.”
Lula smiled at her frankness. “I do. You know the saying about kindergarten teaching you everything you need to know? It’s bullshit. At least when it comes to investing. Everything I ever needed to know, I learned on the farm. Here, I’ll show you.” She hoisted a full paper bag onto the long country table and pulled out an unshucked ear of corn. “When you look at this, your mind tells you what’s inside—a cob filled with plump, yellow kernels, right? But you won’t actually know what’s in there until you peel off the external layers.”
She nodded toward the benches that ran along either side of the table, indicating that her two visitors should take a seat. They did, and some of the tension in Hayden’s features relaxed now that they were finally talking investments again. Unless, of course, Lula was only speaking literally of corn. It was too soon to tell.
The farm woman/investor handed them each a leafy ear and set Lyssa’s mind at ease when she
“This is the family plot,” Lula explained, her pink chiffon bobbing behind her head in the mild wind that kicked up. Crunchy leaves skittered between low headstones as she swung open the entry. Walking up to an oblong stone, Lula kissed her fingertips and touched it.
Lyssa came to stand at her side while Hayden stayed back a few feet, folding his denim-clad arms across his chest and planting his feet shoulder-width apart. He’d had his fun in the barn and was back in business mode.
“This is my granddad,” their hostess continued. “Even as a youngster, I was never much interested in the things girls were supposed to be interested in. Instead of running off to pick flowers or play with Grandma’s dolls during visits to the farm, I’d sit on the porch with him. He talked a lot, but he also listened, and together we solved a lot of the world’s great mysteries.” She chuckled.
It occurred to Lyssa that her earlier horror-film fears should’ve been heightened now that they were sitting in a remote cemetery, but Lula’s weapon of choice didn’t seem to be axes or anything of the sort. No, she apparently planned to string them along to death. A quick glance at Hayden’s tightening jaw told Lyssa her partner was thinking along the same lines.
“One thing Granddad continually impressed upon me was that everything comes down to the individual. People want to blame what they call society for humankind’s problems, but society is made up of individuals, and they’re the ones who direct it. Sometimes they don’t realize until too late where they’ve let things get to, and by then they’ve given up too much power to political and corporate forces. But all’s not lost. It’s simply time for the individuals to turn the societal tides bit by bit. Unfortunately, patience isn’t something we humans are known for.”
It certainly wasn’t Hayden’s strong point at the moment. Lula kept her thoughtful gaze on her granddad’s memorial, so she didn’t see Hayden’s twitching eye or the WTF look he leveled at Lyssa. When their host’s silence lingered, he ventured, “Your granddad sounds like a very wise man … Was he the one who got you interested in investments?”
Lula turned and looked at him. “Not really.” Then she got up and returned to the truck without another word.
Back at the house, Lula led them into the kitchen, saying, “Time to start dinner.”
Lyssa noticed Hayden’s clenching and unclenching fists. As much as she enjoyed watching the typically in-control associate’s irritation mount, she didn’t want him to combust, so she spoke up. “Lula, it’s been lovely getting the tour of your family farm, but surely you realize that the purpose of our visit is to get a deeper understanding of your investment process and resources.”
Lula smiled at her frankness. “I do. You know the saying about kindergarten teaching you everything you need to know? It’s bullshit. At least when it comes to investing. Everything I ever needed to know, I learned on the farm. Here, I’ll show you.” She hoisted a full paper bag onto the long country table and pulled out an unshucked ear of corn. “When you look at this, your mind tells you what’s inside—a cob filled with plump, yellow kernels, right? But you won’t actually know what’s in there until you peel off the external layers.”
She nodded toward the benches that ran along either side of the table, indicating that her two visitors should take a seat. They did, and some of the tension in Hayden’s features relaxed now that they were finally talking investments again. Unless, of course, Lula was only speaking literally of corn. It was too soon to tell.
The farm woman/investor handed them each a leafy ear and set Lyssa’s mind at ease when she
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