“These are the very first of the season,” Dad offered kindly.

“My late wife planted these years ago, and they are the sweetest berries in the valley.

You are more than welcome to take them.”

Chad stared down at the red fruit, then looked at Dad, and finally scanned the vast expanse of cultivated dirt behind him.

“No thanks,” Chad declined coldly.

“I am really not big on fresh fruit.”

Dad slowly lowered the cardboard basket.

“Well, the offer stands regardless,” Dad said softly.