The Clue at Black Creek Farm (Nancy Drew Diaries #9)

The Clue at Black Creek Farm (Nancy Drew Diaries #9)

Carolyn Keene




CHAPTER ONE



Food for Thought


“I’M JUST SAYING,” MY FRIEND Bess Marvin said as we pushed open the door of the River Heights Community Center, “I don’t see how you can get this excited about vegetables.”

She was talking to George Fayne, her cousin and my other best friend, who was following behind with an expression like she’d just sucked on a lemon. Ned Nickerson, my boyfriend, was right behind George with an amused look on his face.

“They’re not just vegetables,” George said, in the frustrated tone of someone who’d been arguing with the same person nearly since birth. “They’re organic, sustainable, locally grown vegetables. And fruits too!”

“I just think it’s all a little silly,” Bess said as we entered the community center gymnasium, which was set up like a banquet hall, filled with round tables covered with red tablecloths and enticing combinations of fresh harvest products. A banner welcomed us: FIRST ANNUAL BLACK CREEK FARM CSA BANQUET AND HARVEST CELEBRATION.

George glared at her cousin. “How is organic farming silly?” she demanded.

Ned spoke up. “I might see what Bess is getting at,” he said, giving George a disarming grin. “Not that any farming is silly, but . . . you know, scientists have been trying for years to prove that organically grown produce is better for you, and they’ve found very little evidence.”

“Well, thank you, Dr. Science,” George grumbled.

I was saved from further arguing by the interruption of a grinning blond woman with a purple streak in her hair.

I held up my hands in the gesture for truce. “All right, all right,” I said.

“OMG, Bess and George!” the woman cried, appearing out of nowhere to pull the two cousins into a big hug. “You guys are so big now! The last time I saw you, you were kids . . . now you’re young ladies, as my grandmother would say!”

George and Bess exchanged glances and smiled as she slowly let them go.

“Holly,” George said, “we’re so excited that you invited us to this!” She paused to introduce Ned and me to Holly. “Guys, this is Holly Sinclair. She was Bess’s and my awesome Girl Scouts leader and now she’s assistant manager at the community center.”

Holly shook each of our hands excitedly. “I’m so happy you could come!” she said, her cheeks flushed. “Black Creek Farm CSA is doing some really good work, trying to change the way our food gets grown,” she continued, growing serious. “They just need some more support from the community. So I convinced them to throw this dinner so people can taste their food!”

“Holly, I told you,” Bess said teasingly, “I like organic farms and all, but we’re not exactly the culinary decision makers in our families. And my mom really likes the Stop-N-Go,” she added. “Especially since they put in that Starbucks.”

Holly shook her head, her dark eyes shining. “Your mom probably wouldn’t like it so much if she knew where all that mass-produced food was coming from, or what it’s doing to the environment,” she said. “Come on, guys, have a seat with me.”

Holly led our small group to a nearby table, where we all pulled out chairs.

“Soooo,” Holly began, sliding into a seat next to George, “you must know that the produce you buy in a grocery store isn’t all from around here, right?”

“Of course,” Ned said. “But that goes without saying. Not every climate will be able to produce every fruit or vegetable there’s demand for.”

“That’s true,” Holly agreed, “but do you think people really consider where their food comes from, when it’s so shiny and easy to buy at the supermarket? Maybe that orange was picked before it was ripe and flown in on a cargo jet, or else trucked around the country using tons of fossil fuels and releasing all kinds of toxins into the environment. But if people stopped and thought about eating locally, maybe they’d select an apple that was grown down the road—perfectly ripe and much easier to transport.”

Ned sighed. “Right,” he said.

“Local food usually tastes better too,” George pointed out. “Because local farmers don’t pick their produce until it’s ready. Produce that’s trucked in has to be picked much earlier, and that affects the flavor.”

Holly smiled at her. “Exactly,” she said. “And we haven’t even touched on organic versus conventional produce, and how many toxins are released into the ecosystem by conventional fertilizers and pesticides.”

Ned spoke up. “But scientists haven’t found much of a nutritional difference between organic and conventionally grown food,” he said.

Holly shrugged. “That’s true,” she said, “but we don’t have to look very hard to find the damage that conventional farming does to the environment.”

Bess thought a moment. “Even if I can see the logic in what you’re saying,” she said, “I don’t do the grocery shopping, Holly. My mom does it, and she’s big on bargains.”

Holly nodded slowly. “Bess, all I ask is that you listen to the presentation tonight, and if you’re impressed, if you like the quality of the food we serve, you mention us to your mom. Or pass on some flyers I’d be happy to give you.” Holly turned from Bess to look at George, Ned, and me. “That goes for all of you,” she said.