That night at dinner, as Santiago cooked us an amazing lemon-thyme chicken that made even the kale salad underneath it appealing, I told him about our time at the Sumner Place with the Owens and then filled him in on what Saul had told me on the way home.
“So apparently, they made their money selling hemp for fabric,” I said still surprised and delighted that such a thing was possible. I had been a big hemp necklace wearer in my younger years, and now I loved the hemp and cotton t-shirts Santi had gotten me for my birthday because they didn’t get the little holes at the belly that all my other shirts did. They were durable and comfy. “I’m wondering who they grow for.”
“Is that what they’re going to do at the Sumner Place? Grow hemp?” Santi asked, and I could hear a little edge to his voi
