“Cattle?”
“Dude.”
She almost laughed aloud at the disgust in his expression.
He met her gaze, his pale blue eyes brimming with doubt. “Sure wish I didn’t have to leave you in the lurch like this.”
Me, too. “Don’t give it another thought. Everything will work out. It always does. Of course Becky should come first. Give her my best, okay? Anyway, lately you’ve been mooning over Montana like I’ve been mooning over that robotic milker that feeds the cows and mucks out the barn at the same time.”
Wade’s mustache stretched as he grinned. “I am looking forward to getting back out on the prairie. And you can’t beat the fly-fishing.”
“There you go. Now come on into the house. You can make sure I’m caught up on everything, and I’ll print out your check.”
An hour later, after sending Wade off with another heartfelt hug and a severance check too small for her liking but too big to be prudent, she left the house in search of her two farmhands, who were no doubt fretting about the extra work they’d have to take on now that Wade was leaving. Normally, they’d have left hours ago, but Wade had asked them to stick around until he’d talked with Ivy. She bet they’d loved that—not—but there was always plenty to keep them busy, and she’d put a little extra something in their paychecks to help make up for it. She’d just have to squeeze a little extra milk out of the girls this month.
Padding paychecks might even win her some points when it came time to ask the guys if they’d be willing to take on Wade’s duties until she could hire a new manager. She didn’t even want to think about how long that could take. She glanced at the clock and closed the lid on her laptop. If Gary and Dell hadn’t left yet, she might as well get this conversation over with. Though it promised to be more of a beg-fest than a dialogue.
She grabbed a sweatshirt, stepped out onto the porch and stood for a moment, getting her bearings. Shadows crowded the outbuildings and rolled across the yard. In the distance, the band of navy that was the lake swallowed the remainder of the sun. Only the faintest curve of glimmering orange lit the sky. A barn owl bid daylight a high-pitched, rasping goodbye.
Okay, then. No wonder she was hungry.
Ivy glanced at the gravel lot beside the dairy barn. Two pickup trucks. Gary and Dell were still here. She jogged down the steps and was heading for the barn when a figure ambled out of the milking shed. Gary. If his thin, six-foot frame hadn’t given him away, the pale yellow sheen of the outdoor lights reflecting off his hairless head would have.
When he spotted her, he changed course. She met him halfway across the yard, her boots squelching over grass already slick with dew.
“Gary. I was just about to come and check in with you and Dell. Can you give me two minutes before you leave? Is Dell closing up?” If Dell secured the barns, that was one less thing she’d have to worry about before grabbing that tuna sandwich. Yay. She took a step toward the milking shed.
Gary moved in front of her. “You going to promote one of us to manager?”
Oh. Ouch. She hid a wince. “Why don’t we find Dell so we can all talk about this together?”
“That means no.” His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed. He spread his legs and planted his hands on his hips, making it clear he wasn’t going to move until he had his answer.
Fine. She’d do this twice. “That means no,” she agreed. “You and Dell are each a valuable part of the farm, but neither of you has the business experience I need in a manager.”
“You’ll have a hard time finding a replacement for Wade.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Dell and I have worked here a long time. We deserve a shot at that job.”
“I couldn’t run the farm without you or Dell. And I appreciate your loyalty, Gary. But I don’t have time to provide on-the-job training. I need someone who already knows how to manage a dairy farm.”
He dropped his arms and took a step backward. “And in the meantime, Dell and me’ll have to pick up the slack. Screw that.”
Ivy held out a hand. “Wait. What does that mean?”
“Means I’m outta here.”
This couldn’t be happening. “You’re quitting?”
“Goddamn right.”
“Gary.” The knot of frustration in her chest tightened, gathering into a dense, aching mass of dismay. “Please stay. We’ll all have to pitch in more, but it’ll be temporary. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Yeah?” Like a cardboard villain in a cheesy Western, he paraded his gaze up and down her body while tracing a slow hand over his chin. “What did you have in mind?”
“NOTHING CLOSE TO what you have in mind,” Ivy responded drily. Revulsion warred with disappointment. Why had it taken her so long to recognize that Gary was a sexist asshole? “Forget I said anything. You can pick up your last check tomorrow.”
Wade, she realized. He’d been her buffer, and she’d taken him for granted.
Why were epiphanies always so costly?
She watched Gary stalk toward his truck. It was too dark to make out his expression as he looked back over his shoulder, but she could guess it carried an ugly promise of payback. Just what she needed. Would he try to talk Dell into leaving, too? God. Two men out of her life in a matter of minutes. Three if you counted Seth, who would no doubt cut her off completely any day now. She was on a roll.
Her stomach gurgled again. Roll reminded her of cinnamon. And the steaming pile of cow crap that was her day explained why cinnamon reminded her of the unopened bottle of schnapps she’d stashed in the cabinet over the kitchen sink.
She wheeled around and marched up the porch steps, chin held so high she tripped on the last one. She stumbled forward and fell into the screen door, one arm outstretched in a vain attempt to catch herself. The mesh fabric parted from the aluminum frame with a growling zzzzzzzzip.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. She pushed herself upright and scowled down at the ruined door. This wasn’t something she could fix herself. And now Wade wasn’t around to take care of it. She’d have to call someone.
Or maybe she’d just quit screen doors, cold turkey.
Of course, cold turkey made her think of Wild Turkey, and the thought of bourbon reminded her she had a date with a bottle of schnapps.
Thankfully, she could open it all by herself.
Ten minutes later, Ivy decided that drinking alone, especially from a bottle covered in five Christmases’ worth of dust, was as pathetic as it was dissatisfying.
She needed something else to distract her. A reflexive glance at the calendar yielded the perfect solution. How could she have forgotten her monthly investment club meeting? Her fellow members of Dollars and Divas would provide the perfect diversion.
And chances were good the booze would be dust-free.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR LATER, after a hasty tuna sandwich and a conversation with Dell that saved her a return trip to the liquor cabinet, Ivy parked in the gravel lot belonging to Castle Creek Growers, a local greenhouse run by her friend Parker and Parker’s husband of less than six months, Reid Macfarland. At least, Reid would have been helping to run it if he weren’t serving his third and final tour of duty in Afghanistan. Ivy couldn’t imagine