Milk Money

by Cecelia Dowdy

  She grinned with relief when Jeremy Dawson approached.

  “I’m glad you finally showed up. I just finished cleaning the equipment for the milking and gave the cows their feed.” She’d already attached the mobile milking units to the pipes so they could start milking the cows.

  The lanky, mocha-colored teen ran his fingers over his newly corn-rowed hair. “Didn’t Darren come this morning?”

  She folded her arms in front of her chest, frowning. “No. Your brother didn’t show up.”

  “But I thought he was going to come.”

  “You boys really need to make up your schedule. I really needed you here today.”

  He followed her into the stalls. “Why, did something happen?”

  “Yes, Casey had her calf, and it came out backward.”

  The young man winced. She put her gloves on and took out the white bucket of cleaning solution. He went into the back room to wash his hands then returned. “Did somebody help you?” he asked.

  He put on his gloves, and she handed him an iodine-filled dipper. After pressing the dipper against the udders of the first four cows, they wiped the iodine off the udders with a clean cloth. Then they turned the vacuum on and attached the mobile milking units to the four cows. As the machines milked the bovines, Emily and Jeremy worked together, cleaning the teats and udders of the next group of bovines.

  One of the cows in the next group was especially dirty, so Emily cleaned the udders with the iodine and water solution in the bucket before using the dipper. She then explained how she’d had to use a rope to get the calf out, and she mentioned that their new accountant arrived in time to help her.

  They worked together, milking four cows at a time, moving the mobile units from cow to cow before reattaching the units to the milk pipes. Emily found that the rhythmic thumping of the machines and the gentle swish of the white liquid going through the clear pipes soothed her frazzled nerves.

  “So, you hired an accountant?” asked Jeremy after unhooking one of the machines. Cats scurried around the barn as he moved the unit to the next cow. Jeremy turned the suction on and hooked the machine to the udders of the animal. Emily then sprayed the recently milked cows’ udders with disinfectant.

  She still felt torn about having an outside person doing their finances. Couldn’t she and Laura try to figure out the bookkeeping on their own? “Yes.” She told him the name of the firm they were using.

  He nodded. “Yeah, my mom and dad hired an accountant a couple of months ago.”

  “Really? Why?”

  The teen shook his head. “I don’t know. Something about the IRS and an audit or something.” He shrugged. She made a mental note to ask Jeremy’s mother about her experiences using an outside accountant the next time she saw her in church.

  Jeremy continued to speak as he attached a machine to another cow. “You know, I heard my mama talking to somebody on the phone, and she said that you need to get married to get somebody to help you take care of your farm since your mother doesn’t like farming and your daddy’s gone.”

  Her mouth dropped open, staring at the young man. “Jeremy, you shouldn’t be repeating your mother’s conversations.”

  He shrugged. “She didn’t tell me not to repeat what she said.”

  Blowing air through her lips, she prayerfully tried to suppress her anger at Jeremy’s mom for spreading untrue gossip. She’d always assumed Laura didn’t like farming as much as she and her dad did, but she’d never heard her say she didn’t like farming at all. She wondered if Laura had confided to Jeremy’s mother that she didn’t like her husband’s profession. She knew Laura would sometimes visit Jeremy’s mother and they’d have coffee or they’d sometimes volunteer for the same ministries at church.

  She further wondered why Jeremy’s mother would even be talking about Emily’s single status. Since her breakup with her fiancé a year ago, marriage was the last thing on her mind. At twenty-eight, she felt her life was fulfilled just running the farm and trying to glean a profit from her family’s business.

  Once the milking equipment was cleaned and the cows, beef cattle, and bull were fed, she told Jeremy he could leave and asked him to make sure either he or his brother arrived at five o’clock the following morning to help milk the cows.

  Her stomach rumbled, and she returned to the house after two and a half hours of milking and feeding in the barn. She heard Frank still in her father’s office, typing on the computer. She needed to take a shower but felt uncomfortable doing so since Frank was still in the house. Her stomach growled again, and she missed Laura’s home cooking. After washing her face, she removed Frank’s clothing from the dryer. She needed to return his clothes to him before heading out to get something to eat.

  When she approached the office, she caught Frank gathering his things to leave. He placed his glasses into the holder before closing the golden clasps on his leather briefcase. “I’ll probably be back sometime tomorrow if that’s okay with you.”

  “That’s fine.” She held his clothes up. “Here are your clothes. I forgot to give them to you earlier.”

  “Thanks. Do you mind if I use your bathroom to change?”

  “Of course not.”

  He soon returned to the office, sporting the clothes he had been wearing earlier. He gave her the borrowed clothes, and she made a mental note that she and Laura still needed to go through her father’s things and decide what they needed to keep. She removed the keys from her purse and followed Frank onto the screen porch and locked the door. She got into her old, battered white pickup truck, and Frank unlocked the door to his burgundy Lexus. When Emily turned the key in the ignition, the engine sputtered, refusing to start. She repeated the gesture, pressing on the gas. The grinding turn of the engine filled the hot summer air before it sputtered and died. Laying her head on the steering wheel, she groaned. “Lord, please let this truck start.”

  Sweat rolled down her neck when she sat up, turning the key again. When the engine failed, Frank appeared in the open window of the truck. Relief flowed through her like warm honey when she realized he had not driven away yet. Funny sensations danced in her stomach when he stood close to the vehicle. “I can’t get my truck to start.”

  He glanced at the pickup. “How old is this thing?”

  “My dad purchased it about fifteen years ago.” She gestured toward the hood. “Whenever we had a problem with it, I’d always pop the hood, and he could fix it.”

  “I’m not very good with fixing cars, but I’ll take a look,” he offered. She pushed the button to pop the hood. She got out of the truck and joined him, looking down at the engine. The wires and inner workings were foreign to her, and the longing for her dad whisked through her, making her wish he were still alive. She blinked the sudden tears away, again focusing on the engine.

  Frank tinkered for a bit before closing the hood. “I think you’ll need to get a tow truck.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Blowing air through her lips, she returned to the cab of the truck to retrieve her purse.

  “Did you want to call a tow truck?”

  “The auto shop down in Monkton is closed.” She looked at her watch. “I’m going to call them for a tow tomorrow. They usually close around seven o’clock.”

  “Don’t you have AAA? They’ll send a tow out immediately.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never needed AAA since I had Dad and the auto repair shop in Monkton.”

  “Can I give you a lift?”

  She clutched the strap of her purse. “I don’t want to hold you up. I might be able to get Kelly or Christine to pick me up.”

  “Who are Kelly and Christine?”

  “My best friends. But I think they’re working late tonight.” He continued to look at her, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. “I don’t mind dropping you off. Where were you going?”

  “I was going to Michael’s to get a sub.”

  “Who’s Michael? Your boyfriend?”

  She shook her head, wonde
ring why he would ask if Michael was her boyfriend. “No, Michael’s Pizza. It’s on York Road here in Monkton.” She checked her watch, and her stomach grumbled. “I’m starved, and since Mom’s been gone, I haven’t done much cooking. I’ve been eating out a lot.” She shrugged. “I’m a lousy cook.”

  He gestured toward his car. “I don’t mind dropping you off.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” She followed him to his luxury car and got in. He started the motor and turned on the air conditioning. He pulled out of the gravel driveway, and cool air filled the car, bringing relief to her heated body. “Ah, air conditioning.”

  He chuckled as he turned a corner and increased the temperature of the air conditioner. “You act like air conditioning is a luxury.”

  “Sometimes I feel like it is. The air conditioning in our truck conked out a few years ago, and we never got it fixed.”

  “Don’t you have your own car?”

  “I’ve never been able to afford a new car. I had a used one for years, but it stopped working a month ago, and with Dad’s death and everything, I haven’t had time to try and replace it.”

  They soon pulled into the parking lot of the small strip mall where Michael’s Pizza was located. She exited the car, surprised when Frank cut the ignition and got out of the vehicle. “I hope you don’t mind my eating with you. I wanted to talk to you about the little bit you may know about the finances on your farm. Besides, you’ll need somebody to drop you off after you eat.” He retrieved his briefcase from the backseat, and when she glanced at the floor, she noticed some liquor bottles. She frowned, and he dropped the briefcase back onto the seat. “Would you prefer that I not eat with you?”

  She shook her head, putting the image of the liquor from her mind, knowing it was none of her business. “No, I’m okay with it.”

  He retrieved his briefcase before they entered the establishment. Tomatoes, garlic, and cheese scented the air, and Emily’s mouth watered as she sat at one of the two tables located in the carryout restaurant. “Do you mind if we split a pizza?” asked Frank.

  She told him she didn’t mind, and Frank went to the counter and returned with two Cokes. “They said the pizza will be ready in about twenty minutes. I ordered pepperoni and extra cheese with mushrooms. Is that okay?”

  “That sounds good.”

  A group of rowdy teenagers entered and sat at the table across from them. At first it was hard to talk, but the owner came over and told the teenagers to hold the noise down. When the ruckus stopped, she expressed her concerns about her farm. “I’ve been calling my mom all day. I think she’s avoiding me.”

  “Why would she avoid you?”

  She sipped her drink. “Laura has never been the most straightforward person. She beats around the bush about things and expects you to figure stuff out yourself. It drives me nuts.”

  “You told me earlier that she was your stepmother. You two must be pretty close if you call her Mom.”

  Emily nodded. “Sometimes I call her Mom. We’re kind of close. My dad married Laura ten years ago, right before I graduated from high school.” She shook her head, not wanting to discuss the somewhat complicated relationship she shared with her stepmother. “Believe me, I didn’t start calling her Mom right away.”

  He opened his briefcase and removed a stack of paper before placing his reading glasses over his caramel eyes. She watched him flip through the papers, her curiosity about him sprouting like a geyser. He looked up and caught her staring. She looked away, wanting to put this whole situation into perspective. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Number one, I just want you to know that it’s going to take me a long time, probably a week or more, to complete the audit for your farm. It’ll be costly, but we have payment plans, and Laura has already signed the agreement.”

  “That figures,” she mumbled. “She agrees to your services and doesn’t tell me a thing.”

  He continued to flip through his papers. “I’ve already accessed a great deal of your father’s files, and I think I can help advise you and your mom about budgeting, forecasting, and doing the bookkeeping on your farm.” He looked at her, and her heart pounded from his intense gaze. “What I need from you is a description about where all of your revenue comes from. I know you get revenue from the milk, but where else do you get revenue? I just want to be sure your father has everything covered in all his files.”

  Emily started talking about where money flowed into their farm—from cows, beef cattle, heifers, and crops.

  He interrupted her. “So, you have cash crops as well as crops you grow for feed?”

  “We sure do. We’ve always done this, because it’s hard to make a living from such a small herd of cows. We usually just plant extra so we’ll have some left over to sell.”

  He continued to write, nodding. “I understand. A lot of smaller dairy farms must have some cash crops to survive.”

  She explained how they hired outside help to assist with harvesting their crops.

  He scanned his notes. “Are there any other sources of income?”

  “No.” She thought about it for a few seconds, figuring she had covered all of their revenue sources. Then she grabbed his arm. “Oh! I forgot about one thing! It’s not a source of income directly from the farm, but it does help out.”

  Frank flipped to a fresh sheet of paper, encouraging her to continue.

  “Well, my mom’s back went out on her a few years ago. So bending over, milking the cows, and doing manual labor on the farm just wasn’t agreeing with her anymore. Since she didn’t work on the farm any longer for health reasons, she got a job down at the elementary school. She works in the cafeteria. She loves being around the kids, and she said the work isn’t as intense as farming. Since the school is closed during the summer, she’s free to do other things.” Emily continued to talk nonstop about the farm for twenty minutes, and Frank took notes. She talked about her cows, telling him their names and describing their personalities.

  “You name your cows? I’ve never seen a farmer do that.”

  “I don’t name all of them, but I name my favorite ones.” She explained that she had them trained to go into the same stall each night and that most of the larger farms didn’t have such a personal relationship with their animals. Their pizza arrived, but she didn’t touch it until she’d finished answering Frank’s questions. He removed his reading glasses before he took the spatula and served thin slices of gooey, cheesy pizza onto the paper plates. Emily bowed her head, saying grace over her meal. She noticed that Frank respectfully waited until she finished before he bit his pizza.

  She tasted her food, savoring the spices and the tangy pepperoni. “This is so good.”

  “It’s doesn’t beat Chicago-style pizza. That’s where I’m from.”

  “You’re from Chicago?”

  He nodded, sipping his soda. “Yes, born and raised there. That’s where my family lives.” His cell phone rang. He excused himself as he took the call. “Hey, sport! Did you guys win the game?” A smile brightened his face as he listened to the other person on the line. “Yes, I remember. What happened after you pitched?” The conversation continued for a few minutes before Frank said he was with a client and had to go. He promised to call back the following day.

  He flipped his phone shut and placed it in his briefcase.

  “Was that your son?”

  Frank shook his head. “That was my nephew, Mark.” He frowned and stared at the pizza for a few seconds. “My sister has two kids, and she’s been having a rough time with them since her husband left her for another woman a year ago.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “It’s been pretty bad, so I made a point to spend a lot of time with the kids after their dad left.” He shrugged as he took another slice of pizza. “I feel that every kid needs to have a dad, and I want to be there for them since their father doesn’t appear to have time for them anymore.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes before Emily
asked another question. “How long have you lived in Maryland?”

  “I’ve only been here a few days.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “I relocated here from Chicago.”

  “Why?”

  “It was hard for me to leave my niece and nephew, but a lot has happened, and I just felt like I needed a change. Do you ever feel that way?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, I did.” He finished his slice of pizza and removed another piece from the box. “The accounting firm in the Inner Harbor was expanding, and they opened the branch in Monkton to serve the farming community. Since they recently expanded into farm and ranch accounting, they needed somebody to temporarily head up that new division. One of the perks they offer to customers that many of the other farm and ranch accounting places don’t offer is door-to-door service. That’s why I came directly to your farm. Some accounting places require farmers to bring their files into their office.”

  “So you’re only here temporarily?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I didn’t want to commit to stay long-term until I decided if I liked it here or not. So they said we could play it by ear and see what happens. I work at the office in Monkton, but I also have to go to the main office in the Inner Harbor sometimes, too. I rented an apartment not far from the Inner Harbor.”

  “So, when they needed somebody, you volunteered?”

  He shook his head. “Not initially. They came to me and asked me to do it, and I had to think about it for a bit before deciding to come. I had to get licensed to practice in the state of Maryland before I was able to make the move out here.”

  She frowned, wondering if he was the right person to be showing them their bookkeeping. “What do you know about farm and ranch accounting since your company just recently started offering it to clients?”

  “We have a farm and ranch division in Illinois. I advised a lot of farmers located in rural areas on the outskirts of Chicago. I’ll admit you’re the first client I’ve served via the door-to-door service. That’s not something we offered in Illinois, but they’re going to start offering that soon in that state also.” He changed the subject. “You’ve always lived on your family’s dairy farm?”