Nancy stared at Mr. Chanin for a long moment, her mind whirling. For a second she actually felt faint. Has the answer been here all the time? she thought. Is this greenhouse the source of— “Mr. Chanin, there’s a customer here who says she has to talk to you right away.” Nancy and Brad’s father turned to see a harried-looking employee. “It’s that woman who’s always calling us to complain. She claims you deliberately sold her a bushel of bruised apples, and she wants her money back.” “Oh, dear,” said Mr. Chanin mildly. “Yes, I know the woman you’re talking about. Could you tell her I’ll be right there? Please excuse me,” he said to Nancy. “I’d better go straighten this out. Nice talking to you.” He waved and disappeared into the greenhouse before Nancy had a chance to ask him anything else. “Hey, Nan! Are you going to help us, or what?” George hollered from the middle of the pumpkin field. “Here I come!” Nancy called back as she slowly began walking toward her friends.
