Milk Money

by Cecelia Dowdy

  Print ISBN 978-1-60260-255-7

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-940-1

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-941-8

  MILK MONEY

  Copyright © 2008 by Cecelia Dowdy. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  Contact the Author

  Author Bio

  one

  Dumbfounded, the accountant gazed at a cow giving birth. He dropped his briefcase when he saw the feet of the baby sticking out of the mother’s canal. A rope was looped around the legs of the young animal, and a brown-skinned woman pulled so hard that the muscles in her slender arms flexed. Her eyes squeezed shut while she grunted, reminding him of the noises people made when they bench-pressed weights. She opened her eyes. “Casey, hold on,” she cooed. When he watched the birth, his sour stomach worsened, and the bagel and cream cheese he’d managed to eat for breakfast felt like a dead weight in his belly.

  Her tears mingled with the sweat rolling down her face. She continued to pull and glanced in his direction. “Oh, thank God you came. Come and help me.”

  A plethora of unfamiliar scents tingled his nose. He swallowed, losing his voice. What was he supposed to do?

  She continued to look at him, pulling on the rope periodically. “I already left a message on your answering service that it was coming out backward.” Pushing the door open, he entered the room adjoining the barn, still hoping he wouldn’t throw up. She nodded toward the rope, still tugging. “With both of us pulling, maybe we’ll be able to get the calf out.”

  “Okay.” He swallowed his nausea and pulled, mimicking the way he used to grunt when bench-pressing heavy weights. He followed her example, keeping tension on the rope and pulling each time the cow had a contraction. She grunted also, and their noises continued until the calf exited the birth canal minutes later. She dropped the rope, and he rushed behind her to look at the young animal. He touched the newborn, awed by the birth. She glanced at him as she cleaned gunk off the calf’s nose and mouth.

  Her sigh filled the space when she noticed the animal was breathing. “Aren’t you going to examine the cow and calf?”

  Before he could respond, a young man holding a large black plastic tote entered the pen. “This the Cooper farm?”

  Confusion marred her face when she glanced at Frank. Then she focused on the new arrival. The newcomer rushed to the baby cow and began examining it. “I’m Dr. Lindsey’s son. I’m taking over my daddy’s practice this week since he’s on vacation. He told you that, didn’t he?”

  She nodded, still looking confused. “I left a message on your answering service earlier.”

  The vet grunted. “I was down the street at the horse farm helping out with another birth, so I couldn’t leave.”

  “Are the cow and calf okay?”

  “They both look fine.” He stopped his examination and looked at them. “I’m glad you had somebody helping you. You might not have gotten him out in time if you’d been pulling him on your own.” He pulled a tool out of his bag. “You have antibiotic on hand for the calf, right? If not, I’ve got some.”

  The attractive woman nodded, her dark hair clinging to her sweaty neck as she promised the vet she would give the new calf the medicine. Frank watched, mesmerized by the whole process. A short time later, the newborn nursed from the mother. “Thank you, doctor,” said the woman, patting the man on the shoulder.

  The doctor shook his head, placing his tools back into his bag. “Don’t thank me. You two got him out in time.” He told Emily he would send her the bill, and then he left the farm. Emily glanced at Frank, as if taking in his khaki slacks and oxford shirt.

  Noticing his bloody hands, she beckoned him over to a room containing a sink and a large steel tank. After ripping off the long plastic gloves covering her hands and forearms and dropping them into the trash can, she turned the water on, pumped out several squirts of soap, and washed. “I thought you were the vet,” she said, continuing to scrub her hands and forearms. “I’ve never met Dr. Lindsey’s son, so that’s why I assumed you were him.” After rinsing, she pulled paper towels from a dispenser and gestured for Frank to use the sink.

  Frank shrugged and walked to the sink, placing his hands under the running water. “Sorry. I helped you out, but I didn’t have any idea if I was doing it right. It’s probably good I showed up when I did. It looked like you’d been trying to help that cow for a long time.”

  She shook her head. “Cows are tough. They can be in labor for hours before giving birth. When you came, I’d just started pulling the calf out with the rope.” She continued to stare, frowning. “Well, if you’re not Dr. Lindsey’s son, then who are you?”

  He offered his recently washed hand, glad the nauseous feeling had evaporated from his stomach. “I’m Franklin Reese, Certified Public Accountant.”

  Emily ignored his hand, narrowing her eyes. “You’re kidding!”

  “Why would I kid about this?” He beckoned her over to his abandoned briefcase and slid the golden locks open, removing a sheaf of papers. He held the documents toward her. “It’s all right here. You called us to come out here because you said you lost your bookkeeper and you needed somebody to show you how to properly do the accounting for your farm.”

  She shook her head, refusing to take the papers. Gritting her teeth, she recalled the countless arguments she’d had with her stepmother, Laura, during the last several weeks. “So, you’re the accountant from Bryer’s and Ridge Accounting Firm that just opened in Monkton?”

  He nodded. “The main office is at the Inner Harbor. They just opened this new branch to service the Monkton farm community.”

  She folded her arms in front of her. “I didn’t call you; my stepmother did.” She failed to admit that she was totally against hiring the accountant.

  “Look … what’s your name?” His mouth hardened into a thin line, and she found it hard not to stare at his cocoa brown, long-lashed eyes.

  “My name is Emily Cooper.”

  He still clutched the papers, looking bewildered. “Did you want to call the office and reschedule?” He gestured toward the barn. “I see you’ve had a rough morning, so you might not be in the mood to talk about your finances right now.”

  “Just give me a second, okay?” She stepped away, noting how the cool scent of his cologne wafted around her, teasing her nose. She removed her cell phone from her pocket and hit the speed dial to call Laura. Emily left her stepmother a message, clutching the phone and speaking in a low voice so that Franklin would not hear her. “Mom, I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t hire that accountant until we talked about it some more. He’s here now, and I’m not sure what to do.” She ended her message and placed
her phone back into her pocket. She gazed at the silos in the distance, still wondering how to handle this situation. The heated arguments she’d had with Laura about hiring an accountant played in her mind like a broken record.

  “Did you want me to leave and come back another time?”

  She jumped when his deep voice sounded behind her. “What’s the phone number for your firm?”

  He held the papers toward her. She took the cream-colored stationery, noting the number on the top. She called and spoke with the secretary, who confirmed Franklin’s appointment.

  She snapped her phone shut, and he presented her with a laminated ID card. “I usually show this as soon as I get to a new house. But since you were busy in the barn, my routine was messed up. Did you want to call the office back and reschedule?” he asked again.

  Shaking her head, she figured it was wrong of her to go against Laura’s wishes. “No, come on.” She gestured toward the house, wiping sweat from her brow. They walked to her home, and she opened the door and entered the shaded, screened-in porch. Emily removed her barn boots and noticed dung stuck on his footwear.

  “Oh no.” She cringed, feeling bad about the mess on Franklin’s shoes and clothing. After leaving her boots on the porch, she told him to remove his shoes. They entered the kitchen, and she showed him the bathroom in the hallway. “You can wash up in there. I have some spare clothes you can wear so I can wash your shirt and shoes.” He nodded, entering the bathroom. She soon reappeared with an old shirt and shoes that belonged to her father. She heard the water running from behind the closed bathroom door, and she left the clothes in front of the room’s entrance.

  When he returned to the kitchen, a strange, funny feeling rushed through her when she saw him wearing her father’s stuff. “I’ll get started laundering your clothes, and I’ll clean your shoes. When you leave today, I’ll have everything done.”

  He waved her comment away. “Can you just show me where you keep your files?”

  “They’re in my father’s office.” She approached the closed door, hesitating before opening it. She took a deep breath, beckoning him to follow her into her dad’s space. Her arms ached from pulling the calf earlier, and the effects of her sleepless night made her want to take a long nap. When Franklin stood beside her, she became aware of his height. He glanced around before focusing on the filing cabinet. “Do you know where your father keeps his P & L statements?”

  Emily frowned, looking around the cluttered room. “His what?”

  “You know, his profit and loss statements.”

  Emily shrugged, now wishing she wasn’t so ignorant about bookkeeping. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay. How about his tax returns? That’ll be a good place for me to start.” He gestured toward the cabinet. “Are his tax forms in the filing cabinet?”

  Emily glanced around the room, feeling out of her element.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t even know where your tax returns are?” She cringed as the exasperation in his voice settled around the room like dust.

  Gritting her teeth, she glared at him. “No, I don’t know.” Wringing her hands, she gazed at the piles of paper scattered around the office.

  “Why did you call us for our services if you don’t know where the paperwork is?” He threw his hands up in the air. “I feel like I’m wasting my time here. You know we charge by the hour.”

  She snapped, whipping her head toward the newcomer. “I’m sorry! I don’t know where anything is. You’re welcome to look and charge us for your extra time!” Hot tears pricked her eyes, and she turned away, not wanting Franklin to see her cry. “I have chores to do in the barn.” She turned and exited the house, welcoming the intense heat as she ran down the hill toward the barn.

  When she rushed out of the office, remorse flowed through Frank. He shook his head, wishing he had not gotten so testy with Emily. Perhaps her father or her stepmother would arrive soon and show him where everything was. His head pounded, so he removed a bottle of water and some acetaminophen from his briefcase and took the pills. He guzzled the water before he turned the computer on. However, he discovered he couldn’t access any files without a password. He put on his reading glasses, continuing to glance through the documents in the office. He would need Emily’s help with finding the proper paperwork.

  He wondered if his sudden move to Baltimore County had been a mistake. Maybe he should call his boss and get him to send somebody else for this assignment. When he was wondering what to do next, Emily returned. Her eyes were red, and she looked tired.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I lost my temper with you earlier.” She shrugged, and his heart melted with compassion.

  “I want to apologize, too. I have a quick temper, and when people call us for services and don’t have the proper paperwork, I get a little upset.” The urge to rub her shoulder and let her know everything would be okay rushed through him. However, the urge quickly disappeared. “Our admin is supposed to send a letter or an e-mail beforehand, confirming our appointment and letting you know what files you need to have ready.”

  She shrugged. “Either Laura got the letter and forgot to tell me, or your admin didn’t send it.”

  “So you’re not sure where your father keeps his financial statements?” He glanced around the office. “Is he around to show me where they’re filed?”

  She shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. She looked away for a few seconds and then turned toward him, wiping her eyes. “My father passed away a couple of weeks ago.”

  His heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry.” Shame for his earlier behavior rippled through his tired body. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. I haven’t been myself since he died. My stepmother’s taken his death pretty hard, so she left a couple of days ago, and she’s staying with her daughter in Florida until she feels better.”

  He frowned. “You don’t know how long she’ll be gone?”

  She shook her head. “She already had this trip planned before Dad died. My dad and Laura usually go to visit her daughter every year at the same time. She should be gone at least a few weeks. I already left her a voice mail asking her to call me.”

  “Why do you object to getting financial advice for your farm?” When she remained silent, he popped his briefcase open and again looked at the documents. “In addition to basic bookkeeping advice, your stepmom also wanted to have your farm audited.”

  “Audited? Why? I thought that was something the IRS randomly did to check up on taxpayers’ returns.”

  He frowned, placing the paperwork on the scarred desk. “That’s true, but people can hire accountants to audit their business to make sure they’re following GAAP.”

  “GAAP?”

  “Generally accepted accounting principles. For a farm or ranch, people might also want to know the net worth of their business. For some reason, your stepmother might want to know these things since your father is gone and she’s not used to doing the bookkeeping.” He gestured toward the computer. “Do you mind giving me the password for your computer? It might help me get started. Maybe your dad scanned or saved the documents.”

  She sat in the leather office chair, and he watched her slender brown fingers tapping on the keyboard, noticing her extremely short nails. After typing the password, she vacated the chair, gesturing for him to sit. “Where do you want to start?” she asked.

  She pulled up a seat beside him, and they discussed where her father may have stored his electronic documents. Wisps of her dark hair escaped from her ponytail and rested on her slender neck. Realizing that he was staring, he forced his thoughts back to the job they were doing. They located some of the documents, and she stood. “I have stuff to do in the barn.”

  “You’re running this farm alone?”

  She folded her arms in front of her. “Sort of. We do have a couple of teenage brothers who help us out. They live on the horse farm up the road, but they’re not very responsible.”

/>   “They don’t always show up for work?”

  “No, they don’t, and it’s wearing me down.” She gestured toward the computer. “Laura and I never knew much about the finances of the farm, so when Dad died, we knew we needed a little bit of help for the chores, but we didn’t want to go overboard and hire more help than we could afford. Darren and Jeremy, our teenage hired help, agreed to take turns helping me each day with the milking. Since it’s summer, they have free time, and they each have other part-time jobs. One of them works at the Wagon Wheel.”

  “The Wagon Wheel?”

  “It’s a restaurant around here.”

  Frank glanced at Emily, still trying hard not to stare. “Was one of them supposed to be here this morning?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You got it. When one of them doesn’t show up and I confront them about it, Darren will always say he thought Jeremy was coming and Jeremy will always say he thought Darren was supposed to come.” She shrugged. “One or the other comes often enough for it not to be a huge problem. That is, not until today. It really would have helped me a lot if one of them had shown up and helped me with the difficult birth.” Frank silently agreed with her.

  “Why didn’t you want your stepmother to hire outside accounting help?” he asked again.

  “I have my reasons.” He assumed that was her way of saying it was none of his business. “But since you’re here and my stepmother wants you here, then I guess you need to get started.”

  As she turned to leave, he stopped her with a comment. “Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier, I prefer to be called Frank.”

  Emily nodded. Once she left, he began going through her father’s Excel spreadsheets.

  He accessed Mr. Cooper’s most current document and began doing his job. A few hours later, he frowned. The numbers did not look accurate, and he figured it would take him a long time to figure out the late Mr. Cooper’s accounting methods.

  two

  At five o’clock that evening, Emily opened the gate of the stanchion-style barn, which doubled as their milking parlor, and let the cows into their stalls. The thirty large black-and-white animals stomped into the enclosure, each going into her space. “Hey, Emily.”