Before he can argue, I continue. It’s easier now that I’m rolling. “We should have a plan of how we’re going to follow up on this success. What are we going to have to offer Lisa’s client next year? What will be our new exclusive variety? Will it be tomatoes? Or should we be looking at other produce we can grow? Are there gaps in the marketplace that we can serve? I would never have thought that anyone was interested in those little Persian cucumbers, but someone else did and they sell well. Carlos grows tomatillos. Is there any market for them here? We need to do more market research.”
I realize that Dierdre is openly listening, along with the others who work in the office, but I keep my attention fixed on my dad.
“Where’s our next success going to come from? It’s less about luck or risk if we have a plan. We have the resources to make a good one. We should be doing our own hybridization, for example. We should be creating our own cultivars and owning the license for the seed. If those new cherry tomatoeswere our own hybrid, no one else would ever be able to grow them, unless we chose to sell them seed. Think about it. We would own that niche forever, instead of just a season.”
My dad’s lips thin. “Whose money are you spending here, Michael, with these pipe dreams?”
“We may need investment to grow.”
He snorts. “Handing away your legacy now?”
I ignore that. “We should have an expansion plan. It’s a while since we bought a farm and added more capacity, and the wait on new greenhouse construction is over a year. We should be looking ahead, scouting out property, maybe making some offers to farmers who might be planning to sell. And we should have an operations manager, someone with a lot more financial experience than I have, someone who can manage our capital, plan our expansion and anticipate any obstacles or opportunities we might encounter.”
“Are you finished?” Dad demands, his tone acid and his body language hostile, when I stop for breath.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Not quite. Expertise is an ongoing challenge. Where are we going to get our new hires in the future? We might add an internship plan, maybe a co-op with the university. We might sponsor a seat at the university or a research chair. As we grow, we’re going to need even more skills inhouse. It would already be good to have someone who specialized in natural pest management, and if we grow, that won’t be optional anymore. We could host exchanges with growers in other countries and learn from each other, improving our practices. We could use a greenhouse at the high school like the one at the café to get kids excited about our industry.”
“You could spend every dollar we earn ten times over.”
“We could be industry leaders. We could define the future,” I counter. “You built an empire, Dad, andyou did a great job, but there’s a reason we’re not number one anymore. We’re never going to regain that position by following the same business practices from fifteen years ago. We have to innovate. We have to stay ahead of the curve. The market is a lot more crowded now and more competitive than it used to be. It’ll be tougher to get out in front and stay there.”
He simply stares at me.
I check my phone and realize I’ve missed one thing, then place it on my desk again. “And we should think more about marketing, especially to consumers. How do we get the public to associate our name with quality and innovation? Lisa said the grocery chain is going to hire chefs to develop recipes. Maybe we should do something similar. Maybe we should have a recipe a week on our website. Maybe we should juice up our social media. Maybe we need some more expertise in that area because that’s not my skillset either. Maybe, at the very least, Cavendish tomatoes should be on the local provider list at The Carpe Diem Café.”
Dad snorts and eyes my phone. I realize he’s spotted Sierra’s picture on the lock screen when his nostrils flare. I expect a rebuttal or an argument, but I don’t get either.
Not even an agreement.
“Are you done?” he demands.
“I’ve just started. I have to take these ideas and flesh them out, create a business plan and chart the future. But I need to know that you’re in agreement before I do that.”
I wait but I should know better than to expect approval.
“Poison,” Dad hisses, then pivots. He raises his voice as if he’s spreading the word. “Those women arepoison.” With that, he walks out of the office.
I hear his car start, then the tires squeal as he drives away.
Well. I have to call that an epic fail.
But damn, the possibilities are interesting.
I exhale, relieved that I’ve said my piece. I’m about to say something to that effect when Dierdre starts to clap. She gets to her feet, smiling, and all the other people working in the office follow her lead. I’m getting a round of applause, which is new and unusual. It gets louder when Lisa appears at the foot of the stairs to the Sales & Marketing department. She’s applauding, too, and followed by the rest of the team from upstairs.
“I want to work for you, Mike,” Lisa says when she stops in front of me, then spreads her arms wide. “I needallthe shoes.”
I laugh with her as I’m surrounded. My hand is shaken and my back patted. There are congratulations and better yet, there areideas. My words have sparked something. People are sharing their own suggestions and their enthusiasm is clear. There’s a wealth of knowledge right here, ready to be tapped, and I feel like all the rules can be rewritten.
If only Dad could get behind a change.
Maybe I need to work for someone else. I’m not sure I could.
Maybe I need to think about going out on my own. It’s a thrilling and terrifying idea, one that comes out of nowhere and has a resonance that can’t be denied.
I need to talk to Sylvia some more and the very thought makes me smile. I love the idea of becoming our own little team. She has a lot going on this week with Sierra finishing school and I don’t want to interrupt her studio time, but I send her a text to keep her in the loop.
