The grapes were getting washed.
The job descriptions were getting damp.
“Who is washing the ladder?”
Ada looked down through her goggles. Below her, Tom lowered the spray nozzle. Water shone along the metal rails, and a fat droplet gathered beneath the grape beside her shoulder.
“The grapes,” he said.
“The ladder seems very pleased.”
At the tool cart, Kit lifted her clipboard clear of the mist.
The Dry Plan
They had started with seven workers, one enormous bunch of green grapes, and a sheet of paper that kept everyone neatly apart. Tom handled the water. Ada trimmed damaged fruit. Kit checked their work before the crane carried each little basket to the sorting tray.
The others inspected the stem, guided the baskets, and brought tools when someone called. In their white coveralls and masks, they moved between the pale green curves like a small cleaning crew working around a building that smelled faintly sweet.
Ada had found a wrinkled amber grape tucked beneath two firm green ones. She climbed until its short stem was level with her scissors.
“Wait there,” she called to Tom.
“I can do the bottom.”
He turned the nozzle downward. The spray hissed softly, scattering silver points across the lower fruit. Above him, water already caught between the grapes began finding its way down.
Water Above
The first drop struck Ada’s goggles. She wiped them with her sleeve, then reached toward the amber grape again. Its wet skin turned beneath her glove.
She withdrew the scissors.
“Off a moment.”
Tom released the trigger. The hiss stopped, but a second drop travelled down the curve above Ada and landed on the same lens.
“I’ve stopped,” he said.
“Could you tell the grapes?”
Kit came closer, holding the clipboard against her chest. Ada tried settling the fruit in her palm. She could support it or cut its stem; doing both left the scissors pointing somewhere she did not want them.
“Bring the net up,” she said.
One of the workers raised the little catching net on its pole. Ada guided its rim beneath the grape, then lowered her foot to change position. Her boot met a wet rung. She stayed still, one hand closed around the rail.
Kit put the clipboard on the cart.
Below the Ladder
“Keep your foot there.”
Kit took hold of both rails while Tom fetched a dry cloth. He wiped the next rung and moved the loop of hose away from Kit’s boots. Ada tested her footing before shifting down one step.
From the new position, she could see the stem clearly.
“A little left,” she told the worker with the net.
The rim moved. Ada steadied the branch with her free hand and closed the scissors. The grape settled into the mesh with a soft, heavy thud.
Kit’s hands tightened on the ladder. Ada lowered the scissors before looking down.
“Caught?”
“Caught,” said the worker beneath her.
Tom stayed beside the closed nozzle while the net was lowered. The crane operator brought a basket close, and two workers eased the grape into it.
“Now?” Tom asked.
Ada checked Kit’s feet, then the hose.
“Other side. Low spray.”
He walked around the bunch.
The Last Drop
Water whispered against the far grapes. Kit held the ladder while Ada finished the next stem; the worker with the net waited beneath her, watching the scissors rather than the crane.
When Ada came down, Kit released the rails and flexed her fingers. The clipboard was still on the cart, beside the unused inspection pencil.
“There’s one behind that leaf,” Ada said.
Kit looked up. From the floor, she could see only green.
She took the goggles Ada offered and stepped onto the first dry rung.
“Who checks the inspector?”
Ada planted both hands on the ladder.
“At the moment, me.”
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