Sage spent the rest of the day avoiding Riggs.

When the men were in the field with the horses, she picked berries. When they moved to the pond for lunch, she went up to the peach orchard and organized the bushel baskets and fruit pickers. When they arrived at the orchard to lay extra gravel on the paths, she headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Sage had wanted to make chicken stew and Otis was pulling for apple pie. They compromised on a menu of chicken pot pie and cold apple cider. Otis was pulling the pies out of the oven when the men came back from swimming in the pond.

Sage was just washing up at the sink. She tried hard and failed not to stare as the three dripping and gorgeous aliens walked past the window in front of her.

Riggs was resplendent, shirtless and unselfconscious. The afternoon sun set the drops of water running down his muscled chest flashing like diamonds. His dark hair hung low over his blue eyes.

When he glanced up at the window, she dropped the glass measuring cup she was holding into the sink with a clatter.

“Shoot,” she exclaimed.

“You okay?” Otis asked.

“I’m fine,” she said too fast.

He eyed her suspiciously.

“What?” she asked lightly, turning back to the sink.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said politely. “You’re just kind of quieter than usual today.”

What he meant was that she wasn’t carping after him constantly about which utensil to use or how he stirred the broth.

“I’m just tired,” she said.

“Okay, I hope you feel… more rested soon,” he said. His voice was a bit deeper than usual. He was actually concerned.

She turned and gave him a genuine smile.

For all that he had conspired against her family, he really did feel bad about what he had done.

She allowed herself five seconds to wish she had the good sense to fall in love with someone as refreshingly normal and reassuringly goofy as Otis Rogers. He was a real help in the kitchen.

Unfortunately she didn’t want to think about spending time with him in any other room.

The image of wet, half-naked Riggs flashed in her memory and she bit her lip and forced herself to remember what he really was. He might be attractive, but he was an alien. And his judgment was terrible.

The pretty ones are never the sharpest, she heard Howard Gillespie from the print shop say again.

Maybe Howard was right after all.

Arden poked her head into the kitchen.

“Hey Sage,” Arden said. “I was going to turn on the news if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Sage said. Channel Eight’s evening news had started a few minutes ago.

She didn’t really want to see herself on camera, but it was important to know what was going out to the public.

She arrived in the living room and joined Arden on the sofa as Arlene Wiggins’s face filled the television screen. She was already talking about Martin’s Bounty. They must have made the lead story somehow.

“Shocking photos from the local police force show that there wasn’t so much as a single blossom on these peach trees a mere two weeks ago,” Arlene said in a voice that implied juicy gossip and ghostly tragedy at the same time.

The camera panned to show the orchard, branches sagging under the weight of the glorious ripe peaches.

“The proprietors insist that these trees aren’t genetically enhanced, but the results speak for themselves,” Arlene said darkly.

“Oh my god, Sage, I’m so sorry—” Arden began.

But Sage was already on her feet, running out the back door to find Tansy.

Her sister was just outside, toweling her hair off from her swim in the pond.

“What’s going on, Sage?” Tansy asked.

“When the police were here for the bees, they took pictures,” Sage said.

“Yeah?” Tansy said.

“And the woman from Channel Eight got a hold of them,” Sage said. “She’s using the pictures as evidence that the trees bloomed too fast to not be genetically modified.”

“No,” Tansy said, an expression of despair on her face.

“I know how much you want this farm to work,” Sage said carefully. “I want it to work too. But there’s too much going wrong.”

“There’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” Tansy said softly.

But Sage could tell from her sister’s expression that she was only putting up token resistance. Tansy already knew what was coming.

“I crunched the numbers last night, Tansy,” Sage said. “With the new tax bill and the supplies we’ll need for next year we just can’t make this work - not if we sold every peach on the place.”

“I still have money in my account at school—” Tansy began.

“No,” Sage said. “We’re not touching that again. I wouldn’t have let you touch it in the first place if I’d known where you were getting the money.”

“It’s only money,” Tansy said. “I can earn more.”

“It’s not only money,” Sage told her. “How long do you think it will be before someone digs deeper into the operations on this farm? Now that they’re suspicious of our practices, we’ll be under a microscope.”

“The men,” Tansy breathed.

“The men,” Arden nodded. “I don’t know if we can keep them hidden much longer. All we need is for someone to capture them on film and money problems will be the least of our worries.”

“So what do we do?” Tansy asked.

“We sell the farm to Dolly and get out of here,” Sage said. “You and Arden can take the boys someplace remote. Or split up and take just Burton with you. He might fit in all by himself, and then you can finish school.”

“What about you?” Tansy asked.

“I’m going back to work,” Sage said. “Someone needs to make some money. I’ll help you as best I can.”

“What about Riggs?”

Tansy’s question hung in the air.

Somehow it hurt too much to think about.

So Sage did what she always did, pressed her emotion deep down and declined to answer.

“He cares about you,” Tansy added. “And I know you care about him too.”

“Now is a time for action,” Sage replied. “Emotions can’t play into it.”

There was a sound from the other side of the barn.

Sage whipped around, but there was no one there.

“You’re doing it again,” Tansy said. “You’re turning your back on what matters most. When Grandma Helen died, all you could think about was organizing everything, planning the funeral, crunching the numbers.”

“Someone has to organize things,” Sage said, hurt. “Everyone can’t spend all their time saying good-bye. Someone has to make arrangements, or else nothing would ever get done.”

Tansy shook her head, eyes wet with unshed tears.

Before Sage could say anything more, Tansy jogged off toward the house.

Sage found herself hoping Burton would find Tansy. He always seemed to be able to make her sister feel better.

She tried not to let herself resent the fact that making Tansy feel better used to be her job.