Chapter 6 - The Industrial Intrusion
The coffee in my mug grew instantly cold against my lips.
I set the ceramic cup down on the wooden railing so hard the liquid sloshed over the rim. Across the yard, the heavy, metallic roar of a small commercial chainsaw tore through the crisp morning air, vibrating right down into the soles of my shoes.
I bolted down the porch steps, my bare feet hitting the damp morning grass as I sprinted toward the orchard.
There, draped across the remaining line of our mature Bartlett pear trees, was a massive, industrial-grade black rubber tarp, anchored securely by heavy cinder blocks along the property line. And standing right on the other side of the chain-link fence, revving a two-stroke Poulan Pro chainsaw, was Monica’s nephew—a thick-necked, twenty-something contractor named Derek whom I hadn't seen in two years.
"Hey! Stop right there!" I screamed, pushing my way through the low-hanging branches of an apple tree.
Derek pulled the protective mesh visor of his hard hat up, grinning with arrogant satisfaction as he rested the vibrating blade against his thigh.
"Morning, Claire!" Derek shouted over the whining idle of the motor. "Aunt Monica hired me to clear out these overgrown nuisance branches! Said they were hanging over her fence line and blocking her sunlight. I'm just doing a little property maintenance!"
"Maintenance?!" I yelled, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. "Those aren't hanging over your property! Those are my husband’s trees, and that tarp is suffocating our pear crop! Turn that engine off right now or I'll call the sheriff!"
Derek chuckled, spitting a wad of tobacco onto our side of the fence. "Go ahead and call him. Aunt Monica got a municipal variance yesterday afternoon stating these trees constitute a biohazard nuisance due to last week's root rot spill over here. We've got legal clearance to prune back anything within ten feet of the property line—which happens to be every single main branch."
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Before I could lunge forward to grab the top of the chain-link fence, Derek pulled his visor back down, revved the throttle, and slammed the screaming steel blade straight into the trunk of our oldest, most treasured Bosc pear tree.
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