The Clue at Black Creek Farm (Nancy Drew Diaries #9)(2)

I glanced from George to Ned. George was nodding enthusiastically, and even skeptical Ned gave Holly a small smile. “Fair enough,” he said.

“Sure,” I agreed. While I didn’t always eat organic, I definitely believed in being environmentally responsible. And everything Holly had said made sense.

“Oh, look!” Holly pointed behind my head at a tall, gray-haired, and bearded man. She stood up and waved, and the man turned to her and nodded. “That’s Sam Heyworth, the man of the hour.”

“Who?” asked Ned.

Holly smiled. “Sam’s the founder and owner of the Black Creek Organic Farm and CSA.”

“So what is a CSA, exactly?” I asked. The term was familiar, but I wasn’t totally sure what it meant.

Holly’s eyes sparkled. “I’m so glad you asked! CSA stands for ‘community-supported agriculture.’ Do you know how a CSA works?”

I shook my head.

“It’s basically a way to help keep small farms in business, and help people who live in the suburbs get access to fresh, local, in-season produce,” she explained. “If your family joined, for example, Nancy, they would pay an up-front fee for the whole growing season—June through November. And every week during that season—or every other week if you bought a half share—you’d come to this community center to pick up the freshest, most in-season veggies and fruits that grew on the farm that week.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Picked that week?” I asked. “That’s pretty fresh.”

Holly nodded. “Right off the farm, my friend. It’s as fresh as it gets.”

I glanced up to see the bearded man Holly had identified as Sam Heyworth headed our way, followed by a woman about his age with short blond hair. Holly looked up at them and smiled.

“Sam can tell you everything you want to know about the CSA,” she said cheerfully. “Black Creek Farm means a lot to him, doesn’t it, Sam?”

Sam walked up to the table and smiled down at Holly. “You know it does,” he said, looking around at me and my friends. “Hello. Friends of Holly’s, I assume?”

George’s eyes twinkled. “Holly was our Girl Scouts leader,” she said. “She won’t stop talking about your farm and CSA.”

Sam chuckled. “Well, I’m flattered,” he said. “Running Black Creek Farm is a dream of mine. I gave up a partnership at my law firm to build it.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “So you were a lawyer, and now you’re a farmer?” he asked.

“Right,” Sam replied. “And I was a stressed-out, unhappy man, frankly, but now I’m”—he stopped and turned to look at the blond woman, who’d come to a stop beside him—“very content,” he finished. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce my wife, Abby. She’s given up a lot to support me in pursuing this dream.”

The woman turned to me and my friends with a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hello, everyone,” she said. “I hope you’re hungry!”

“We’re starving,” Bess promised.

Abby and Sam laughed. Sam glanced up, catching the eye of a thirtysomething man with short brown hair and boxy black glasses. He raised his hand, waving the man over. The man nodded, then gestured for a very pregnant woman with long red hair to follow him.

“This is our son, Jack, and his wife, Julie,” Abby explained. “They’re from Chicago, but they’ve been visiting us while they house-hunt in the area.”

“Hi,” said Jack, stopping a few feet away and looking from face to face with a quizzical look.

Julie stopped right behind him. “Hi, everyone,” she said. Now that she was closer, I could see that she looked a little pale. “Oh, gosh, I need to sit down.”

Jack looked at her with concern. “Go have a seat!” he said urgently. “In fact, go grab something to eat in the kitchen.”

“That’s right, dear,” Sam said. “You’re eating for two, remember.”

Julie shot a small smile at my friends and me. “Sorry to be rude,” she said, “but I think I might take Sam up on that. I’ve been so hungry lately!”

“When are you due?” Bess asked warmly.

“One more month,” Julie said, patting her round belly.

She waved and walked toward the kitchen. I followed her with my eyes and was surprised when I heard harsh voices coming from nearby.

“. . . should’ve planned for her to eat first,” Jack was saying to his father, a sharp edge in his voice. “She’s eight months pregnant!”

Sam looked hurt. “And nobody minds her sitting down or eating early.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked in a lower voice, sneering. “You don’t want us out here shaking hands to sell your stupid vegetables?”

Sam’s face drooped even farther. Abby shot Jack a warning look. “Now, Jack . . .”

Holly cleared her throat. She was staring straight ahead, and I couldn’t tell whether she’d heard the argument and was ignoring it, or had really zoned out during the whole thing. “I am getting hungry, Sam,” she said, looking up at him. “And the hall is filling up.”

She gestured around at the other tables. I noted that she was right; while only three or four tables had people sitting at them when we’d arrived, now nearly all of them were populated. They were filled with a combination of men and women, young and old. I found myself feeling hopeful for Sam and Black Creek Farm. It was hard not to be touched by his enthusiasm. I hoped some of these diners would become customers.