Sam didn’t get home until nearly ten. His dad had already left for work, but his mom and Kali were both waiting for him.

“Well?” Mom said.

“There is a disaster plan for the greenhouses.”

“Really?” Kali jumped up from her seat by the table. “Does it depend on our garden?”

“And every other private garden that was in existence when the plan was made—three hundred years ago.”

“What?” Mom said. “How can we be on a three-hundred-year-old disaster recovery plan?”

Sam shrugged. “Ms. Jackson keeps sending last year’s in. My guess is that her predecessors have been doing the same thing for generations. Nobody actually looks at it.”

“It’s good news for us, though,...

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