Chapter 15
Damian lifted the cardboard flat of strawberries from the ground, his back aching as it straightened from its crouch. At his feet grew a long row of berry plants, with dozens of rows behind and before him, all stretching what looked like a mile in each direction. He knew the berry patch was less than half an acre—most of the Garza land was devoted to citrus trees, with only this small spread given to other fruits and vegetables—but picking strawberries was slow work, making him feel like he’d been out there forever.
He stood a moment to breathe deep, smelling the irrigated earth and the hay sprinkled on the maintenance paths. It was ten in the morning on Saturday, the first weekend in May, and already Rancho Amantes simmered under a bright sun with no clouds and no breeze. It
