“Who is Mara?” I asked.
Her hands stopped.
That tiny hesitation told me more than any answer could.
“You should ask your father.”
“I just did.”
Elena resumed picking tomatoes.
“Then ask him again.”
Before I could, Aaron called Dad toward the gate.
“I spoke to my supervisor.”
Dad wiped his hands on his trousers.
“And?”
“The citation is still open. I can’t dismiss it today.”
Brent folded his arms.
Dad nodded.
“Fair enough.”
Aaron continued.
“But I’m suspending the removal deadline while we determine whether this qualifies for an exemption as a charitable community food plot.”
Brent’s head snapped around.
“A what?”
Aaron looked at him.
“The county adopted provisions for community food production three years ago.”
“This isn’t a community garden.”
“That’s what I’m determining.”
“They don’t own it.”
“Ownership isn’t necessarily the deciding factor.”
Brent opened his mouth, then closed it.
