THE WINDING ROADS cut through California farmland and ranch house residences. Decker had forgotten how much he loved the West Coast, with its sunny skies and varying terrain. Since it was August, it was hot and dry, but the ethers were deep blue and the air in these parts was clear and clean. Current crops were peppers, table grapes, artichokes, all sorts of melons, and lots and lots of big, beautiful strawberries. Fruit and vegetable stands dotted the streets, brimming over with all that was fresh. There were also citrus orchards—lemons, limes, and oranges—along with acres of avocado trees, some of which acted as a wind-break for the citrus. Lots of guacamole was featured in restaurants.

Marion Vanderberg lived in a wood-sided one-story house painted the color of a robin’s eggshell. The front area hosted two big avocado trees sitting in dirt and crabgrass, the patch bisected by a cracked concrete walkway to the front door. It was warm, and Decker was glad he’d opted for a polo shirt and jeans rather than his usual brown suit. He rang the bell, and the woman who answered was barefoot, wearing Bermuda shorts and a white T-shirt. She was around fifty and tall and rawboned—a big woman with gray-streaked, coffee-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail. Pecan-colored eyes, full lips, and a mottled complexion of different shades of bronze. After introductions were made, she told the trio to sit wherever they wanted.

The place was cozy. Tables held fresh flowers. The sectional was brown Ultrasuede and worn at spots. Wide-planked natural oak floors were covered with napped area rugs. Shelving units, bolted on the walls, held books and old stereo equipment, along with dozens of framed photographs. The TV was on a blank wall with wires trailing down to a cabinet unit.

Marion sat on the smaller sofa of the L-shaped sectional while the three of them sat in a row on the larger sofa. Her eyes were far away.

Decker said, “Thank you for seeing us.” The sister nodded. “Nice trees in front.”

“We have about thirty more in back,” Marion said.

“How many acres do you have?”

“About five.”

“All avocado?”

“No, we also have lemon, orange, grapefruit, apricot, peach, plum … several varieties of plum.” Marion perked up. “There’s a big open-air fruit and vegetable stand about two blocks away. It’s more like a trading post for the area. We trade our stuff for tomatoes and peppers and eggplant. In the winter, we trade citrus for lettuces and onions. Works out well.”

“I’m sure it does,” Decker said. “I used to have a ranch in the east valley decades ago. I had some fruit trees on the property, but I bought it for the trails. I had horses back then.”

“What happened?” Marion asked.

“I got married and had kids. Living in an isolated area wasn’t good for them.”