“Omigod.” She shudders. “I couldn’t stand it. I woulddie.”
“That’s pretty much what Abbie said. She seems to have come through it all right, though.” I can feel Sylvia struggling to keep a straight face and can’t even risk a glance her way. We might both burst out laughing about this first-world problem of such dire magnitude.
“I don’t think I’ve met Abbie,” Sierra says.
“No, you wouldn’t have. She lives in Vancouver.”
“What does she do there?”
“She has a flower shop.”
“Why couldn’t she do that here?”
“She probably could. I always assumed she didn’t want to.” I shrug. “Maybe she likes the weather better.” That’s not it and I know it, but Abbie’s reasons are her own business.
Sierra chews on that as we drive west on the little road I love so much. “Mom said you run the greenhouses at Cavendish Enterprises.”
“Sierra. This isn’t an interrogation,” Sylvia protests.
“I don’t mind. Curiosity is natural.” Sierra beams. “I do run the greenhouses, since I’m head grower.” It’s strange in a way to be having this conversation with Sierra, knowing that Sylvia is listening.
“Are you the boss?”
“No, my dad is.”
“How big is the greenhouse?”
“Enormous,” Sylvia contributes and I nod.
“We have eight greenhouses in total. They’re all pretty big.”
“Is it complicated?”
I shrug. “In some ways. In others, it’s simple. Just math, really. How many plants. How many people. How much yield. How many trucks.” I shrug again, aware that she’s interested.
“How did you learn to do it?”
“Working there when I was a teenager. Then when my dad started to upgrade and expand, I went to University of Guelph for my undergraduate degree. I completed my Masters in Sustainable Agriculture there.”
“Why? Because you had to?”
“Not exactly. My dad had expectations of us, for sure, but I like greenhouse growing. It feels like the future to me, a way to produce food for a lot of people in a comparatively small area.We had some research projects about growing food in space, too.”
“I guess astronauts have to eat something.”
“You’ve probably heard you should eat your fruits and vegetables, no matter where you are.”
She rolls her eyes. “More than once.”
“A friend of mine is working on greenhouses in Nunavut, creating a longer growing season there.”
Sierra thinks about that. “So you went to school, then worked here in the summers?”
“Not every year. I went to grad school in the Netherlands for two years, including the summers.”
“So, you got to Europe after all,” Sylvia says quietly. My heart glows that she remembers one of those old dreams.
“I did. There were several research projects through the University of Maastricht that one of my professors contributed to.”
