twice this past spring, both offering big bucks to turn McKinney Farm into an upscale subdivision with lake rights on the upper northwest shore.
Piper and Lucia had declined both offers, but Vince and Linda’s farm sat above hers. The lake and quaint town sat below. As the Hogans aged, Piper’s father had leased nearly eighty acres from them, acreage Piper used for corn. If the Hogans sold their farm, where would she find acreage for next year and the years to come, especially if increasing land values tempted more farmers out of the game?
“We’ll figure this out.” Lucia made the promise as if they had choices.
They didn’t.
Piper crossed to the milking barn quickly. She’d oversee the morning chores with Berto, hope that Chas showed up to the dairy room on time, and try to accept the things she could not change, like the imminent For Sale sign in front of the neighboring farm.
Trouble was, she’d never grasped that life lesson well.
“Need a hand this morning?”
The disembodied voice startled Piper. She bit back a girly screech, then recognized Zach’s father moving her way. “Mr. Harrison?”
“Call me Marty.”
She raised one shoulder in acknowledgment, but the adrenaline rush of having him here in the shadowed dawn kept her heart pumping. “It’s early for ice cream, isn’t it?”
His smile reassured her. Dimmed hints of Zach’s good looks and humor came through the softened expression. “Is it ever too early for ice cream?”
Piper shook her head, trying to feel the situation out and coming up short. “No. Not in my world, anyway.”
Marty motioned to his right. “Zach’s got a massive backyard project scheduled, so he’s gone to the Home Depot. I’m an early riser, I hate television and I worked on a farm for years. I’d like to help if you’ve got stuff to keep me busy.”
Did she have stuff?
And then some.
But a cash shortfall made her keep the staff minimal to the point of negligible. “There’s always work here. Compensation for that work is another matter,” she told him as she moved into the barn. Berto lifted a hand in greeting as he tended the initial group of Holsteins, then he stood straighter, shoulders back, as he spotted the strange man at Piper’s side. He moved their way, protective but open, qualities Piper loved about her middle-aged step-uncle.
“I don’t need money,” Zach’s father told her.
Piper might be young, but she’d never met anyone who didn’t need money. And Marty’s clothes―which were somewhat loose and dated―said if he had money, he didn’t spend it on his appearance. Which made his assertion more doubtful.
“Free help?” Berto defused the moment with a smile and waved Marty his way. “And I heard you say you have worked on a farm, no?”
“Yes.”
Berto’s expression said Marty had come to the right place. “He can work with me here,” he told Piper.
Piper read what Berto wasn’t saying, that he’d keep an eye on Marty and make sure things were on the level. Having a strange guy, a new neighbor, show up out of the blue wasn’t the norm in Kirkwood.
It’s not the norm anywhere, her brain scolded.
Mixed feelings made Piper hesitate. She didn’t know this man.
You’ve met his son, the cop. How bad can he be?
“I’ll take this side.” Moving with more grace than Piper had observed the night before, Marty took a spot on the milking row opposite Berto. Without a glance in either direction, he began prepping the cows with a dexterity Piper almost envied.
Berto met her gaze. “We’ve got this.”
Dismissed.
Which meant she could move the unfreshened heifers onto new pasture earlier than planned. She climbed into the pickup truck, headed west, turned the young cows out in record time, and was back to the house ninety minutes earlier than usual.
“You are back.” Lucia frowned her way as she ladled pancake batter onto a hot griddle. Plump blueberries sizzled and burst in the heat, filling the air with sweet, summer fragrance. “The milking is done or the vacuum machine is broken?”
“Neither. Zach’s dad came over to help. He and Berto are doing the milking.”
“The policeman’s father is working here?”
Piper made a face. “Weird, huh?”
Lucia set her gaze hard. “I have little trust for those who butt in to another’s business.”
“And yet you help so many, Lucia.” Piper shrugged, grabbed coffee and buttered a steaming pancake. Then she took a sifter of powdered sugar, generously applied it to the pancake, rolled the whole thing into a cylinder and raised it to her mouth to bite. “You’re always first in line to help with church functions or folks down on their luck.”
“We are not down on anything that hard work and a heart for God won’t fix.” Lucia flipped the sizzling cakes with more zest and authority than could ever be needed. “We are independent. Industrious. Hardwork—”
“Whoa.” Piper paused the pancake roll without a bite, and the scent of it, sugary-fruitiness waiting to be consumed, made her wish she could ignore Lucia’s angst.
She couldn’t. “Luce, he’s not exactly breaching our defenses. He’s running milk lines to udders. And Berto’s got things under control. Right?”
Lucia’s frown said it wasn’t right, but then her expression became subdued.
Piper turned.
Zach stood in the doorway much as he had two nights before, only this time thick concern worried his brow. “Have you guys seen my father? I had to run some errands at first light. He’s not home and he’s not the take-a-walk type. I wondered if he might have headed over here?”
“He did. We have him sequestered in the milking parlor, where he seems right at home, and you’re just in time for food.” Piper eyed the cooling rolled pancake in her hand and decided it was thoroughly gauche to eat a pancake like that in front of a great-looking guy, even if she had declared him off-limits. Swallowing a sigh, she started to put the pancake down as Zach stepped through the door.
“You roll your pancakes, too?”
“Too?”
He nodded, dipped a smile toward Lucia and slanted a questing gaze toward the plate. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He repeated Piper’s butter and sugar maneuvers, then rolled the cake tightly and took a bite. “Ah, Lucia. Es muy delicioso.”
Zach rolled his pancakes. Just as she did. That had to mean something, right?
Sure,
