Sam hadn’t been sure which of his calls for help would prove productive, but it turned out Eleanor—well, maybe Mandy—was a whiz at data mining antique sources. Where had they even found all this stuff?

Once Sam had glanced through the material, he looked up from where he’d been carefully clearing rotten material from the hole. “Grandma, it looks like Eleanor and her sister found plans that will work, but I know we don’t have enough materials in here to make them. We have some of the vines, but not enough, and none of the other stuff. What is bamboo anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter. Message Dominique Jackson, and see what she can give us. The greenhouses owe us for premium fruits anyway. If she gets fussy, remind her she owes me.”

“She owes y...

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