It was the first time I had seen them together without either one looking ashamed.

Dad watched from the tomato rows and said nothing.

He had learned long ago that some things grew better without anyone hovering over them.

The hearing took place on a Wednesday evening in a room above the county library.

I had never seen Dad wear a tie except at weddings and funerals, but there he was in a faded navy one, sitting beside me with his green ledger tucked under an arm.

The board members asked about traffic, soil drainage, the amount of land under cultivation, and whether produce was being sold.