The Big Cat Nap

revenue, and she could only imagine the monies that the big four brought to the state. Few people realized how crucial agricultural proceeds were to the economy of any state. They were all dazzled by green industry, high technology, electronics. At least Yancy was supporting Virginia farmers.
    Few people bought raw soybeans. They were hulled and roasted. Harry had no idea if Yancy’s soybeans came from Virginia or not.
    She didn’t know why she was suspicious, but she was.
    She crossed her arms over her bosom. The temperature under the morning sun had been seventy-two degrees F when she’d exited the station wagon. Just enough for the trickle of sweat to roll down her cleavage and under her breasts. A lady didn’t take a handkerchief and wipe down her glories any more than did a gentleman whose nether regions were prone to sweat. Harry couldn’t help but think that those very breasts, lovely as they were, might have killed her. She banished the thought, continuing to troll the fruits. The tangerines’ color was so deep, it just jumped out at her.
    The price, four dollars and ten cents for three, also jumped out at her.
    Reminding herself that she wasn’t here to buy citrus, Harry checked her watch: ten o’clock sharp. Time for her appointment with Yancy Hampton. Although Monday morning was not a time one usually associated with grocery shopping, the store was jammed with well-groomed women and the occasional man. Rolex watches captured the light; discreet good earrings or diamond studs created tiny rainbows. Perfectly pressed blouses and Bermuda shorts were worn with snappy espadrilles to complete the outfits. No one was fat.
    Yancy Hampton knew his market.
    Harry knocked on the natural-wood door; a thin voice called out, “Come in.”
    Yancy Hampton rose to greet her and shake her hand. He motioned for her to sit in an ergonomically perfect chair and then sat back down in his own version, designed to take pressure off the back.
    “Harry, last time I saw you was at the Cancer Ball.”
    “Thank you again for your support. We raised a lot of money fromthe five-K race, as you know, and then with the ball we raised a quarter of a million dollars. Of course, having the work of sports celebrities and media types sure helped.”
    “You know that Diane Long raised that or maybe a bit more for the Boys and Girls Club? Her husband, Howie, and Terry Bradshaw were the auctioneers. We should send that woman to Washington. She’d get things done.”
    Harry smiled, for she’d met Mrs. Long, a great beauty, only once and was deeply impressed by the fact that she’d been a classics major. “Hampton, she’s too good for Washington.”
    He laughed. “What can I do for you?”
    “BoomBoom told me you were buying crops before harvesting. I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, but I found that concept unusual and intriguing.”
    “And I know you’re growing sunflowers and grapes. I even heard you’ve got a plot of ginseng down by the creek there.”
    Harry wasn’t surprised. Everybody knew everything in the county. Then again, she thought, maybe not. There was a dead man at the ReNu shop ready to disprove that theory.
    She cleared her throat, for she’d paused a bit long to answer. “I’m trying to find niche crops. I don’t have the implements for my tractor to grow corn. Ethanol has sure made that an attractive proposition, but I’m old-fashioned. If I did grow corn, it wouldn’t be for fuel.”
    Yancy leaned back, folding his hands and putting them behind his head. “Scam. That’s all I’ll say about that. Anyway, you know I’m dedicated to locally grown products whenever possible and to products grown as naturally as possible. You are what you eat.”
    Harry almost said, “And you are what you do,” but she halted, instead saying, “How can you buy before harvest? Mother Nature is a temperamental partner.”
    “I go out, look at the crop, make a bid based on past costs per bushel or per chicken, let’s say, based on the prior five years of purchase price wholesale. I also have to figure in gas costs, since everything is trucked in. That means I’m getting an average. Now, the harvest might be excellent and the prices go down a bit. Or it may be the opposite and prices rise. The market giveth and the market takethaway. But you get what I bid no matter what, so you’re taking your chances, as am I.”
    “What if the crop is destroyed?”
    He frowned a moment, as that was not a happy