You’re back early.
“Apparently.”
She glanced at the volunteer.
“Melissa, could you give us a moment?”
Melissa disappeared toward the tents.
Trish walked closer.
“I was going to call you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“After installing forty fence posts?”
Her mouth tightened.
“It’s temporary.”
“So is trespassing if you leave quickly enough.”
She exhaled.
“Jack, I understand how this looks.”
I looked toward my cornfield.
Someone had cut pathways through roughly twenty-six acres.
Not harvested.
Cut.
Curved corridors disappeared between the stalks.
There were wooden arrows at intersections.
Decorative scarecrows.
Solar lights.
Someone had even erected a ten-foot wooden observation platform near the center.
“It looks,” I said, “like you built a corn maze on my farm.”
“We’re using an existing agricultural area for a community fundraiser.”
“You’re using my corn.”
“We have authorization.”
That got my attention.
“From whom?”
“The association’s legal counsel has reviewed everything.”
