Milk Money (2 page)

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.

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.”

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.