“You’re a regular laugh riot, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Gabe said modestly. “Seriously, though, what’s up?”
“Don’t know yet. Celie’s coming out on Monday with her team to look the place over. I assume we’ll know more once we see what they find.”
“And then you’ll know if you’re going to lose trees?”
“I’ll know if we’re going to lose trees. They belong to all of us, Gabe. I don’t forget that.”
“And we appreciate it,” Gabe said. “So how’s Ma taking all this?”
“She seems okay. I haven’t gone into huge detail just because we don’t know enough yet and I don’t see the point in getting panicked. Anyway, I think she’s distracted right now.”
“Yeah,” Gabe said quietly. “We’re getting close to a year.”
“Month after next.” This time a year before, Adam Trask had still been around, striding through the maples with his rogue’s grin. This time a year before, Jacob had still had a father and business partner, and Molly had had a husband. And then one morning, out in the sugarbush, everything had changed….
“How’s she doing?”
“A little rocky, when she thinks no one’s looking.” He stared moodily at his coffee. “I caught her crying one day.”
“Crying?” Gabe echoed uneasily.
“Yeah.” Easily one of the most unsettling experiences of his life. “You know Ma, she was fine two minutes later but things are hard for her right now.”
“She needs us around,” Gabe said, in answer to his brother’s unspoken comment.
“Yeah.”
“Listen, I’ve got business in Montpelier next week. I figured I’d drop in at the end of the day, maybe for dinner.”
Trust Gabe to come through. “I think she’d like that. Bring Hadley, if you can.”
“She won’t be around. She’s got to go to New York for the week to close on some corporate business and see about her condo.”
“Oh yeah? She selling?”
“The place in New York, anyway. She’s got a flat out here in the manager’s house at the hotel.”
“The same manager’s house you live in?” Jacob asked innocently.
“Might be.”
“So what’s hotel ownership going to say to the two of you shacking up together?”
“Considering she’s hotel ownership, not a whole lot. Besides, we’re not shacking up.”
“No?”
“Nope. She’s still got her flat, I’ve still got mine.”
Jacob stretched, amused. “You losing your moves, little brother?”
“I’ve learned to be patient. When it’s right, we’ll know.”
“Good luck on that.”
“Yeah.” Gabe paused a moment. “So who’s this Celie?”
Chapter Four
“Okay, let’s get started.” Celie looked across the Institute conference room at the team of foresters who’d been recruited for the inspections. A half dozen of them were from the Institute—not just Marce but Bob Ford and several others. The rest were either from APHIS and the forest service or the state. Nearer at hand, Dick Rumson glowered at her from a ringside seat, arms folded over his chest.
“Good morning, everyone,” she began. “First of all, thanks in advance for your help. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. It’s essential that we get through the inspections by the end of March, before the borers hatch. If the situation’s not under control by then, we’ll have worse trouble on our hands.” She picked up a stack of sheets and handed them out. “This is a summary of the project to give you an idea of how we’ll be dividing up the acreage for maximum efficiency.”
Rumson looked up from the summary sheet she’d handed out. “Says here you see this going on for six or seven weeks.”
“That’s roughly how long it should take the sixteen of us to cover the county,” Celie said calmly. “We’ll start at the areas of concern and work our way out.”
“That’s a long time to have a full team inspecting. I don’t think I can spare my specialists for that long, especially if you’re not finding anything. If we don’t see any sign of your bug in the first two weeks, I’m pulling my team back.”
Celie gave him a level look. “We’re not going to make any decisions about early termination until we’ve been out in the sugarbushes.” And you’re not going to undermine my authority.
“But if—”
“We’re not going to make any decisions about early termination until we’ve been out in the sugarbushes,” she repeated, keeping her voice even. “We’ve got a job to do. Let’s focus on that. The data will tell us what comes next.”
Rumson subsided with a glare.
Celie gestured to the wood sitting on the table before her. “For those of you who haven’t seen what we’re looking for, I’ve got some show and tell. First, Mr. Scarlet-Horned Maple Borer himself.” She passed around a clear sample case with a small beetle inside. It was mostly brown with gaily striped red and brown feelers. “Big things come in small packages, as the saying goes. It doesn’t look like it could decimate the hardwood forests of the northeast, but there you are. Now, it’s unlikely in the extreme you’re going to see one of these beetles. They spend most of their life in the wood of the tree and right now they’re at the tail end of their dormancy period. What we want to look for are signs of incursion.”
She lifted the section of wood off the table. “See the lightish streaks and the way the bark has thickened? That’s a response to the fungus the maple borer carries. Most trees also release a chemical to combat the beetle. If you find a tree that looks suspicious, mark it and scrape the inside of the bore holes to obtain a sample. Detecting the fungus, or better yet, the inhibitor chemical is the most conclusive method we have for confirming the presence of the beetle.”
Ford stirred. “I thought I read somewhere that certain trees are resistant.”
“They are. The borer doesn’t like ash or black oak, for example. It’s not just a taste thing. Those trees have high levels of the inhibitor chemical—if he keeps eating, he dies. Unfortunately, in the sugar maple it’s not sufficiently strong for protection.”
“Aren’t there any insecticides we can use?” asked one of the state forestry specialists.
“None of the insecticides currently approved for use in the U.S. are effective against the maple borer.”
Ford looked at her keenly. “So there is something, just not for us?”
“Sort of. I was part of a team that isolated the inhibitor chemical and concentrated it into an insecticide called SMB-17. It was commercially released last year in Canada and in Japan.” She waited a beat. “The trade name is Beetlejuice.”
That got a round of laughter from all except Rumson.
“What about here?”
She tamped down all frustration so that none would sound in her voice. “U.S. agencies appear to require a little more time and data.” And meanwhile, trees by the thousands came down. “We have hopes the red tape part will be done soon.”
“Soon enough