The Buyer's Invoice Promised An Archive My Uncle Never Held

"Has anyone tested them?" I asked.

"He said he had a report," Lila said.

"Ask for it in writing. Don't destroy anything. Miriam can inspect them today."

"The nursery geneticist?"

"She's right here in Boone."

"Then bring her."

I forwarded the message to June before I put on my coat. She told me to stick to what I could show and let her handle the sale dispute.

At Blue Fold's lower field, five huge root bags sat on a gravel pad. Wind pushed dry grass flat along the fence. Lila stood beside a small office trailer, holding a thick folder against her coat.

"I thought I was buying a breeding program," she said.

"You were buying my grandfather's work," I said. "I don't know what he told you."

"Let's find out."

We started with the trees.

Miriam crouched by the first bag.

"Collar M-04. Don't assume. Show me the graft file."

I opened the photograph on my phone. Lila held the ruler while I took a new picture from the same side.

The old pruning cut matched. So did a low fork and a raised seam in the bark. We repeated the work with the other four.

At M-08, Miriam pointed to the pale crescent.

"Here. Stub above it. Flat cut beside that. Same spacing."

"So the number is right," Lila said.

"The records agree with the tree," Miriam said. "That's what I can say."

She inspected the bark and buds. She found no sign that called for emergency destruction. She would take samples for a lab because an inspection was not a promise of health.

"Ask him who issued that report," she told Lila. "I want a name and a date."

Inside the trailer, Lila set out her invoice.

There was a ring of tea on its corner. Beside it lay her plan for a teaching orchard, with paths wide enough for school groups. I had expected to find someone who wanted cheap trees. Instead, I found another person whose plans my uncle had used to get paid.

I pulled out a chair.

Twelve mother trees: $18,000.

Exclusive breeding archive and program rights: $30,000.

Total paid: $48,000.

The invoice described BF-17 as a pickup code. The space for the archive's contents said, List To Follow.

"I should have waited for the list," Lila said.

"He had the trees," I said. "That made him look like he had the rest."

She pulled out a bank confirmation. The money had gone to Daeho's personal account.

Then she showed us a short sale agreement dated three days before Grandfather died. It said the seller already owned all listed property without any other claim.

Daeho alone had signed it.

"He told me his father had retired and given him the business," Lila said.

I remembered that date. I had spent that afternoon reading Grandfather a seed order in his room. He had made me change one seed source and had signed the corrected page himself.

The order was in the archive.

It did not prove every piece of our case. It did show he had still been running his nursery while Daeho claimed he had given it away.

Lila called June on speaker.

"I'll send you my copies," she said. "And I will let your expert document the trees. But I need my money back if he couldn't sell them."

"That is a fair concern," June said. "Get your own lawyer. We can cooperate on preserving evidence without pretending we have the same interests."

Lila looked relieved by that.

I asked about the breeding rights.

"He said I could keep everyone else from using the line," she said.

Miriam tapped the blank list.

"Owning a tree doesn't let you control every chestnut like it. Min controlled his private records and the material he released under agreements. We need to read each one."

She said it without making Lila feel foolish. I liked her for that almost as much as I liked her careful work.

Outside, I drew the gravel pad and marked the five bags. Three wind strokes pointed toward the trailer.

"May I copy that?" Lila asked.

"June will send the full page."

As we left, Lila's phone rang. She listened, then held it away from her ear.

"Daeho," she whispered.

"Tell that girl to stop taking pictures," his voice snapped. "She's never been responsible for anything but turning water on."

Lila spoke clearly.

"Send the disease report. My lawyer will contact yours."

There was a short silence.

"Then our deal is over," he said.

He hung up before she could ask about her money.

My phone lit with a message from Owen.

I'm off the job. Different truck coming for the seven at five tomorrow. He says they're going to storage, with or without labels.