“So, you’d like a little space?” Mrs. Markham asked, peering at him over her cup.
“Yes, I see myself in a place that has a little bit of land around it. Breathing room, I guess you’d call it.”
“I’m sure there’s lots of places in the country outside of Baytown that are for sale,” Lia added.
He sighed heavily. “So far, nothing has resonated with me.”
Mrs. Markham looked at her watch and startled. “Oh, my goodness. I didn’t realize the time.” Looking up at Scott, she said, “Your client will be here in a few minutes.” She stood and gathered the empty coffee cups before carrying the tray out of the office.
He looked at his online calendar and his brow scrunched. “Beau Weston? Is he a new client?”
Shaking her head, Lia replied, “I’m sorry. I meant to tell you that I’m handing him over to you. He’s been around forever, and your grandfather used to be his accountant. He’s a wonderful man, and we got along fine. But I have to say that when he heard that Thomas Redding’s grandson was here, he seemed happy. Plus,” she shrugged with a smile, “he runs a farm, and with you being a tax accountant, I think you’re a better fit for him.”
Scott thought that he and Lia made a good team. His specialty was tax accounting, focusing on businesses, and her specialty was fraud. They both handled the customers’ tax questions in preparation but utilized their specialties as much as possible.
Lia continued, “In fact, I think he mentioned the American Legion when I met with him last year. You might have already made his acquaintance.”
She had barely left his office when Mrs. Markham showed at his doorway and said, “Mr. Redding, your appointment is here.” Standing to the side, she ushered in an older gentleman, introducing, “This is Beau Weston.”
In stepped a large man, dressed in clean overalls and a white, short-sleeved, buttoned shirt. His cheeks were ruddy and he had a shock of white hair on top of his head, wide smile peering out from a trimmed, white beard, and blue eyes that fairly twinkled. Scott had an image of Beau easily playing Santa Claus. And he could not help but grin.
2
“By God, you look just like your granddaddy did when he was younger. Nice to meet you,” Beau exuded, grabbing Scott’s extended hand.
Still grinning in return at the firm and friendly handshake, Scott indicated for Beau to have a seat.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee or water, perhaps?” Mrs. Markham asked.
Beau shook his head and replied, “Thank you muchly, but I’ve already had my allotted caffeine for the morning. My Reba, God rest her soul, has been gone several years, but my granddaughter has taken her place, making sure I eat right. She lets me have two cups of coffee in the morning and that’s it.”
Laughing, Mrs. Markham closed Scott’s door as she left the room.
Beau turned around in his seat, settling his gaze on Scott. “I’ve missed the last couple of meetings, but I do recognize you from the American Legion. I know your granddaddy was mighty proud when you joined the military.”
Chuckling, he shook his head slightly. “I believe my family eventually came around, but I can assure you when I first joined right out of high school, neither my grandfather nor my parents were very happy.”
“Oh, that was just the fear talking,” Beau said, settling deeper into his seat. “I don’t believe your daddy served, but your granddaddy did, so he knew what it could be like. But make no mistake, he was proud.”
“Thank you for that.” Scott relaxed, feeling an immediate camaraderie with the older man. Beau’s affable personality set him at ease, and while most people wanted to immediately get down to business, it was fine with Scott if Beau wanted to chat a little bit.
“Heard you talk at one of the meetings about your injury. You’ve got my admiration, Scott. Anyone who can go through what you went through and come out of it doing as well as you did… well, like I said, you’ve got my admiration.”
Shrugging, Scott patted his thigh and said, “Mr. Weston, I figure I’m lucky. I had some friends who didn’t make it back.”
Beau nodded slowly, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. “Yeah, me too. Did a tour in ‘Nam.” He patted his leg as well and chuckled. “My knee gave out over there. To this day, I can tell the weather depending on how my knee feels.”
The two men offered knowing smiles, the connection tangible. One of the things Scott had learned from participating in the multi-generational American Legion was that their service branches may be different as well as the battles they fought, but there was always a camaraderie amongst servicemen and women.
Moving the conversation back to the reason Beau was visiting, he said, “I understand you have a farm? I apologize for not being prepared ahead of time, but I just found out that you would be my client.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Beau said, waving his beefy hand to the side, dismissing Scott’s concerns. “I like Mrs. McFarlane just fine and got no problem working with a woman, but she told me that you were real good with taxes. Plus, I was excited to meet Thomas’s grandson.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me a little about your business?”
Scott was not sure Beau’s smile could have spread wider, but as he began talking about his farm, it was obvious how much he cared about his land.
“The farm’s been in my family for over a hundred and twenty-five years,” Beau began. “Farming is the only life I’ve known... the only life I’ve ever wanted. I met my wife when we were in high school. She was a pretty girl from the town, and I was just a country boy. Couldn’t believe she said ‘yes’ the first time I asked her out. Reba and me got married right after high school. Her daddy wasn’t happy, but Reba knew her mind. We moved into the farmhouse with my parents and eventually built a small house of our own on another part of the land. Once my parents passed, we moved back into the bigger farmhouse.”
“What do you raise?” Scott hated that he had not read up on the Weston farm.
“When our farm was at its biggest, we had over four hundred acres, raising corn, cotton, and potatoes. I also kept a few cows, had a prize bull, plus pigs and chickens.” His smile slid from his face, and he rubbed his fingers over the whiskers on his chin. “Years ago, during one of the recessions, I sold off a hundred acres to Luca Giordano, the Tomato King.”
Eyebrows lifted, Scott did not have a chance to ask about that title before Beau began chuckling.
“I see you haven’t heard that before,” Beau said, his smile back on his face. “The Giordano farm began snapping up farmland about thirty years ago. The Eastern Shore is known for its tomatoes, and he had direct contracts with companies like Campbell’s for their tomato soup.” Nodding his head, he added, “Big business being in tomatoes.”
“I knew that tomatoes were one of the crops that grew prevalently around here, but I never thought about it being so important,” Scott replied. “I confess that I was gone for many years and have only recently come back to the Eastern Shore. It seems like there’s much I need to learn.”
Waving his hand again, Beau said, “I get along fine with Luca. We chew the fat when we see each other. But about five years ago when Reba died, I sold off another 50 acres. It was getting harder to have workers, and I sure as hell ain’t getting any younger. My son… well, my son doesn’t work the farm.” Beau’s eyes brightened. “But I’ve got my Lizzie. And I’d do anything for her.”