The Growing Season by Sarah Frey

Author:Sarah Frey [Frey, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2020-08-25T00:00:00+00:00

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The St. Louis produce market, known as Produce Row, has never been the safest place for a girl to show up at two in the morning with $10,000 in cash. But when I needed to fill out a load fast, that’s where I went. The giant fruit and vegetable market on the Mississippi, in business since 1953, was my kind of place.

Opening before dawn, the bustling market has a hundred stalls filled with every fruit and vegetable you can imagine—some sold by wholesalers, others by brokers. With mountains of perishable goods to unload, they’re all motivated to make a deal. In no time, I could usually get as much as I needed of anything at a good price. But one morning I arrived to find that my usual guy was out of cantaloupes, and I needed thousands. I asked him who might have what I needed.

“They have fruit over at United,” my guy said. “But…”

“But what? They’re cutthroat at United?” I said. “I’ve heard that. I don’t care.”

Everyone was afraid of the guy who ran United: Stanley Greenspan. He was crass and ruled with an iron fist and a filthy mouth. Still, I walked over to United’s part of the market and saw big bins overflowing with cantaloupes. The containers weren’t tagged, so they were available. Bingo. I told the guy working the docks that I would take them all.

“It’s all spoken for,” he said, looking me up and down. He seemed amused that a young woman would even talk to him, much less think she could buy from him. There wasn’t one other woman anywhere on Produce Row; at least I never saw one.

“Oh, yeah?” I said.

All right, buddy. Watch this.

Looking behind him, I saw that there was a staircase leading up to United’s offices. My business wasn’t big enough to work with the guys up there. I had to deal with the guys on the docks—but I was over it. I walked right past the rep and up the big flight of stairs. With each step, the higher I climbed, the more nervous I grew. By the time I got to the top and opened the door, I’d begun to doubt the wisdom of my rash plan. I opened the door onto rows of desks. This was the bullpen. When I walked in, a dozen well-dressed men looked up at me in shock. It was like they’d never seen a woman before in their lives. At least not in the bullpen. I was wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, boots, and a ball cap. No one asked me what I was there for. No one said anything. They just stared at me as if a comet had crashed into the middle of the room.

Well, this is awkward. Act like you belong. Yeah, no, I definitely can’t just blend in and disappear. Act like you have an appointment. Do something.

I looked past them and saw that there was a door at the end of the row of desks.

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