"Ugh," she interrupted. "I hate that word." Just above the line of her large sunglasses, he could see her brow furrowing.
He chuckled politely. "So, it seems healthy, and it's growing well, just not producing fruit."
"We want the fruit," she said firmly. "That's one of the reasons we bought this property. Plenty of other places we looked had better views of the lake, but we wanted something on the road so we could have a fruit stand. We want the whole experience, just like a turn of the century farmhouse." She flicked a hand at the pear tree, jeweled bracelets clacking . "This is the only tree on the property that's mature, and we were told it could have fruit this season. No one mentioned pears don't ripen until the fall," she huffed, "so we've waited and waited, and now no fruit!"
He nodded as she spoke, then shrugged. "In all honesty, Mrs. Havers, I think your best option is just to wait. The last owners neglected the tree and Spring is not the best time to prune a fruit tree. It may take another season for it to recover."
"You should have told us that when you came out in April," she said.
"If my brother neglected to mention it, I apologize," Christopher said carefully. "At any rate, there are more things we can do before winter comes, like aerate the soil at the base here, and maybe plant a shrub barrier to protect it from the winds off the lake..."
"And you can guarantee that will make the difference next year?"
"There are no guarantees in farming, Ma'am. If we get an early frost the buds will all freeze, or a late spring might mean too short a growing season, or..."
"But what you're suggesting will improve the tree's capacity independent of the weather?"
"Yes, it will improve it, but if the problem is something else, like a lack of cross-pollination..."
"What's that?"
"Fruit trees need other fruit trees to pollinate each other. There used to be two other pear trees on this property, but I believe we took them out in the spring." He flipped through the order book to see her history. "Yeah, here it is. We took them out to make the path to the lake." He pointed to the end of the garden. "There used to be two pear trees right there. It might have made the difference as to why this isn't producing any more."
She glared at the path, then waved her hand at him. "Oh, fine, just finish your work." She disappeared into the house, the screen door banging behind her.
Christopher took out his order form and made a few notes on the conversation, then turned his attention to trimming the forsythia that lined the back porch. When he finished, he gathered the clippings and tossed them into the back of his truck. Going back for his tools, he passed the pear tree and paused to run his fingers along the slim lower branches. He stood back and looked at the tree as a whole. It had a good shape with firm and unblemished leaves. The inner branches rose at a nice upwards angle, four of them providing good infrastructure. The outer branches swung gently in the breeze, willowy and supple, ready for fruit.
Giving the tree a farewell pat, he collected his tools and walked back to his truck to write up the bill. As he wrote, his receiver crackled, and his father's voice barked out, "Chris!"
He pressed the talk button. "Yeah?"
"What the hell did you say to that lady off Main? She's been on the phone yellin' for fifteen minutes about some racket we've got to cut down trees she needs and then charge to replant 'em. What's going on over there?"
Chris leaned his head against the back of the seat. "She wants the pear tree to produce and there's no cross-pollinators..." he began.
"What the hell? So you told her it was our fault?"
"It was our fault if no one told her that taking out those trees might affect the other pear!"
"You are some stupid son of a bitch, Chris," his father panted. "What the hell do you think we're supposed to do, list every possible consequence to every action we take? How the hell should we know she wanted that damn tree for fruit? Get the hell back up there and fix this!"
"How am I..."
"I don't give a shit. Figure it out. She's pissed as hell and it's your fault so fix it."
Christopher threw the receiver on the passenger seat and fumed silently a few minutes. He'd had this sort of argument with his dad a hundred times since he started at the landscape company. He wanted them to take more responsibility for developing a relationship with the customers, educating them about tree and lawn care so they understood the dynamics of how their land worked. His dad was always telling him to stop over-explaining and just do whatever the customer wanted him to do. It didn't help that his brother seemed cut from the same cloth as their father, and never made a misstep like he'd just made with Mrs. Havers.
He tried to put himself in his brother's shoes. How would he have gotten around the problem? Lied, probably. Told her that the tree needed spraying or something she wouldn't want to do, like cover it with some ugly netting. He knew his brother had taken out those pear trees without giving a second thought to how it would affect the rest of the garden, and in his mind that wasn't giving good service to their customer.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then jerked open the door and flung himself out. Taking the front steps by twos, he rang the bell and waited.
Mrs. Havers opened it and stood there expectantly. She'd taken off her sunglasses, revealing a heavy layer of blue and purple eyeshadow that matched her linen tank top. "Yes?"
"I came to apologize," he said. "Dunwells Landscaping cares very much about our customers and we want to make this right for you. We'd be happy to plant replacement pears free of charge." He hated to make that offer, knowing his dad would take both trees and labor out of his paycheck.
"That seems the least you can do," she snapped. "It won't help me get any fruit this year, though, will it? And how long before those other pears are old enough to do their job?"
"Well, we'd have to plant young trees of course, so they won't produce pears for a few years, but they will bud in the spring and that will be enough to cross-pollinate the mature Bartlett. Again, I am very sorry for this mix up and for our error."
She sighed, shaking her head. "All right. When will you plant them?"
"Best time is late fall, so I guess within a month or two. Before the snow starts."
"We'll be back in Chicago by then. Hang on." She disappeared and returned with a business card. "Call our in-town property manager. She'll schedule the work and oversee it for me."
"Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Havers." He took the card and handed her the bill for that day's work. She took it with a martyred expression, then shut the door firmly. Back in his car he glanced at the card and groaned. It would be Jeanette's dad's company. Of course it would. He was going to have to take her with him each time he came to care for those trees over the winter, so she could oversee the work for Mrs. Havers.
Jamming the car into reverse, he backed out onto the highway and headed home in a dark mood.
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