Page 80 of Under the Orchard’s Spell

“It took out every good pear.”

My heart stalls. “Every piece?”

She nods, looking grave. “There might be an unmarked one here or there, but that hail was thorough. You can still pick the marked ones—that’s about half the crop. But you won’t be able to sell them for fresh pack. And the crystal ones are worthless.”

I have to steady myself with an elbow as I digest that. Fresh pack pears are the highest quality ones—those that eventually end up in grocery stores and restaurants—and they have to be unblemished. Not because marked pears are unsafe, but because they look terrible. What starts as a small, clean puncture will eventually widen into an ugly, black bruise. Consumers don’t want fruit like that, so the packing houses will only buy marked pears for stuff like cider and baby food. And they’ll pay a much lower price.

I don’t need to have gone through the ledgers in the office to understand what this means. Even with the proceeds from the gala, half a crop of low-grade fruit won’t be anywhere near enough to make ends meet this season.

“What’s our next move?” Val asks, looking to me for answers.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I genuinely don’t know what we can do.”

Logan bumps my knee with his. “Another fundraiser?”

“Or we go back to that pear jam idea,” Val offers.

I shake my head. “There’s no way Apple Valley is in the mood for a second fundraiser for my quirky farm. And, Val, you already said yourself the pear jam won’t be enough.”

I have no idea what the path forward is, but it doesn’t seem like I have any options. Or, even if I do have some options, that the curse is going to let me make progress again.

Mason slurps at his coffee and tilts his head, his expression heavy with amusement. “What are you all talking about? It’s obvious what Ali should do next.”

Logan frowns at his brother. “If you have a suggestion, we’re all ears.”

Mason blinks back, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Guys,” he says, and the unspoken duh is clear. “We have to break the curse.”

Chapter Nineteen

After much discussion, we settle on the only starting point that makes sense: the sprawling library at Mason’s college. There, he promises we’ll find plenty on the cultural significance of trees in mythological systems, including historical accounts.

Val has remained utterly unconvinced this endeavor will be fruitful. “Martin spent the better part of two decades obsessing over his curse,” she protested, arms crossed. “Not sure what you lot are going to accomplish in the next week.”

Mason puffed up his chest. “Clearly you haven’t seen me in action.”

Val gave him a slow once-over before her eyes landed—unimpressed—on the faded text across his wrinkled T-shirt: Running Late Is My Cardio.

He dusted off the letters. “Well, clearly I’m not in action right now.”

Logan nudged him with an elbow. “Let us know when it starts.”

Oddly, I’m about as optimistic as Val.

I keep waiting to feel energized again—Mason’s enthusiasm should be contagious. Yes! We’ll find a solution in Maplehurst. Yes! We’ll break the curse.

But I’m not sure I believe it.

How do we even break a curse?

And if, by some miracle, we do, would it solve my farm’s financial problems?

Still, it’s our only lead. Plus, Logan needs to drive back to Maplehurst, anyway, both to bring Mason back to campus and for another meeting with the insurance company. Tagging along to do some research seems better than staying back in Apple Valley with Val and doing nothing.

So, we spend the rest of Sunday gathering empty cups and plates and scrubbing serving platters clean. On Monday morning, Mason, Logan, and I pile into Logan’s truck, windows down to catch the crisp morning air. Soon, we’re purring along a stretch of highway hemmed between towering basalt cliffs and a broad, silver-blue river. As usual, the gorge is stunning, but today it’s dressed in autumn: the hillsides streaked with gold, amber, and rust.

On the drive, Logan and I explain everything we know about the curse and my family’s history with it. This includes Logan gently recounting what we found out about Lydia: the letter, the possible (probable?) affair with my uncle, and the growing theory that she left Apple Valley because of the land’s magic, which led to my uncle facing problems on the orchard for years.