Margaret was feeding chickens.
“I have chickens.”
“I’m serious.”
“So are they.”
He laughed.
“Twenty homes outside Lexington.”
“Custom development.”
“Developer wants Kentucky-sourced stone.”
“Facade work.”
“Walls.”
“Fireplace surrounds.”
“About two hundred tons across eighteen months.”
Margaret stopped.
“Two hundred?”
“Dale says your site can handle it if extraction is staged.”
“What rate?”
“Premium.”
He gave her the figure.
Margaret nearly dropped the feed scoop.
“Send the contract.”
Jessica arrived Saturday.
Emily Brooks came too.
Papers covered the kitchen table again.
Guaranteed minimum purchase.
Quality specifications.
Delivery schedule.
Reject criteria.
Pricing tiers.
Margaret read every page.
Jim would have signed after page two.
That was why Margaret handled bills.
“Mom.”
Jessica said after Emily approved the last revision.
“This changes things.”
“I know.”
“You can hire someone.”
Margaret looked at the calendar.
Extraction coordination already consumed too much time.
Load tickets.
Weights.
Reclamation records.
County reports.
Invoices.
Stone grades.
Dale handled much of it, but Margaret wanted her own records.
“I need someone who understands geology.”
Jessica smiled.
“You’re finally admitting you need help?”
“I’m admitting I don’t understand rocks enough to argue with people who do.”
The person she hired was Amy Bradshaw.
Tom Bradshaw’s daughter.
Twenty-six.
Geology degree from Western Kentucky University.
Returned home after an entry-level job in Louisville ended.
Working part-time at a pharmacy.
Margaret called.
Amy arrived wearing jeans and carrying a field notebook.
“My dad thinks this is ridiculous.”
She said.
“I know.”
“He says you got lucky.”
“I know that too.”
“You still want to hire me?”
Margaret handed her Dale’s geological report.
“Tell me what this means.”
Amy read.
Then another page.
Then looked up.
“You have multiple usable limestone beds.”
“Variation in fossil content.”
“Different fracture patterns.”
“Some sections better for dimensional stone.”
“Some for wall stone.”
“Good.”
Margaret nodded.
“Your job is to teach me enough that nobody can sell my own land back to me.”
Amy smiled.
“When do I start?”
“Now.”
Amy changed the operation.
She mapped quality zones.
Logged extraction depth.
Photographed every active face before and after work.
Built a digital inventory.
Found one section Dale had overlooked where the limestone had especially attractive fossil patterns.
James Hullbrook went crazy over it.
“Feature stone.”
He said.
Dale agreed to a higher royalty on select pieces.
Margaret gave Amy a raise.
Tom Bradshaw came to the farm two months later.
He stood awkwardly beside his pickup.
“Amy says you’re treating her well.”
“She’s earning it.”
Tom looked toward the extraction area.
“You mind if I see?”
Margaret handed him a hard hat.
Dale’s crew showed him the process.
No blasting.
Careful splitting.
Sorting.
Reclamation.
Amy explained the geology.
Tom listened.