“Which means expensive permission.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Sometimes.”
Casey looked at Warren.
He was listening now.
That mattered.
The formal process began.
Baseline delineation.
Soil pits.
Vegetation plots.
Hydrologic monitoring wells.
Conceptual restoration plan.
Title review.
Market study.
Odell explained one afternoon:
“The strongest opportunity may not be that the flooding created a new wetland from nothing.”
“What then?”
“This may be historically wet ground that was drained for agriculture.”
“Your father converted it.”
“Yes.”
“And the drainage changes accidentally restored part of the hydrology.”
Warren looked toward the field.
“So the bank broke my farm back into what it was before we fixed it.”
Odell chose his words.
“It may have reintroduced conditions that existed before drainage.”
“And that can be valuable?”
“If formal restoration and protection meet program requirements.”
Warren shook his head.
“My father would hate this.”
Casey said:
“Would he?”
“Yes.”
“He spent money tiling it.”
“He also spent money adapting the farm every time something changed.”
Warren looked at her.
“That is different.”
“Because it was his decision?”
That ended the conversation.
Weeks passed.
Cornerstone’s deadline approached.
Then Gerald asked for a meeting.
He arrived with two bank officers.
This time they asked about wetland credits.
Not dismissively.
Specifically.
“What stage?”
“Preliminary.”
“Estimated timeline?”
“Long.”
“Potential value?”
“Not fixed.”
“Any letters of interest?”
Casey watched Warren.
He answered almost nothing.
Then Gerald made another offer.
Cornerstone’s land affiliate would acquire the eighty acres.
The purchase proceeds would cure Warren’s default and reduce principal enough to restructure the remaining farm debt.
Warren asked:
“How much?”
Gerald gave the number.
Higher than the previous offer.
Still below the preliminary long-term wetland valuation scenarios.
Warren said no.
Gerald increased.
Warren said no again.
Gerald became frustrated.
“You don't have a wetland bank yet.”
“I know.”
“You have a flooded field and consultants.”
“I know.”
“You may spend years and get nothing.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you refusing a guaranteed exit?”
Warren looked at him.
“Because for six months you told me those acres were a liability.”
Gerald said nothing.
“Now you want them.”
“The information changed.”
“Yes.”
“It did.”
Warren leaned forward.
“And I’m allowed to change with it too.”
The meeting ended.
That evening, Warren walked the wetland with Casey.
He still called it “the eighty.”
Not wetland.
Not yet.
They stopped beside a monitoring well.
Casey recorded level.
Warren asked:
“How much work is this going to be?”
“A lot.”
“You like it?”
“Yes.”
“More than soybeans?”
She smiled.