So long. Not for me. For me it felt like yesterday that he’d told me he was selling Honey Hill Farm to the company that would later turn the panorama of orange groves that was my dream and my legacy into a subdivision. The betrayal continued to sting, like the bees my own grandfather had gathered and lovingly cared for. The memory of that moment still made me clench my jaw and want to swing at something. Anything, even if it wasn’t my father. It’d felt as if he’d ripped my heart from my chest and auctioned it to the highest bidder. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand because he didn’t have the same attachment to it that I did. That my mother had. He associated the place she’d loved with her loss, but to me, it kept a part of her alive. And because of it, we’d had a falling-out that had never mended. Even before I’d been locked up, we’d rarely spoken once I’d gone to live with Alfonso. “He sent me a few cards over the years,” I said. “He told me he was getting remarried.”

“Yes.” She worried her lip for a moment. “They had a little girl. She’d be…oh, five now, I guess. I tried to keep in touch, but…” She waved her hand through the air, and I took her meaning. He wasn’t interested. He’d washed his hands of this place, and that included the reminders too. Maybe I didn’t blame him. I’d done the same, even if for different reasons. “Anyway,” Mrs. Swanson said, “tell me what you’re doing. Your plans. Where you’re living. You must be on your way somewhere.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. I hated this. Hated asking for help. It made me feel low, worthless. “Well, actually, no… I was sort of hoping you had a job here that I might be cut out for.”

Her face fell. “Oh…oh, Tuck, I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “The truth is, we’re barely getting by here. I’m sure you noticed all the changes,” she said, waving her hand in the general direction of what had once been miles of fragrant orange trees. “We’re downsizing, not expanding. To be honest, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be in business.”

I winced. From what I could tell, Swanson Groves was the very last of its kind. When it closed down, Citrus Row would truly be a thing of the past.

She watched me worriedly for a beat, then two, as I processed what she’d told me. “It’s been hard, I suppose, starting fresh,” she finally said.