W
ade tried his damnedest to keep his thoughts focused on the spreadsheet before him—Agway’s year-end inventory for feed, fertilizer, insecticides, and gardening supplies. He knew his father was waiting for the report so that he could, in turn, lecture Wade on the importance of not over-ordering supplies with a limited shelf life. His old man had been pestering him for the report since January, and here it was mid-March, and the damn thing still hadn’t been completed.
All the columns and rows of codes and long numbers blurred together into one big splat of black ink. Wade rubbed at weary eyes, stood from his seat behind the desk, the top of his head a few inches from touching the seven-foot ceiling. Standing six-foot-five, with his long legs and arms, he had been one of the best high sch
