Harvesting Ashwood Minnesota 2037 Page 5

  “Thank you for changing your schedules.” Andre nodded, the others continued to settle into their chairs. “We have less than two days to respond to the youth redeployment initiatives. I don’t know why this critical matter slipped between the cracks of our team, but we’ll talk about that another day. Right now I want us to use our time in building a defensive response.”

  If anyone in the room had a tendency to pointing fingers that would be Magda. If anyone on the team was usually anal about keeping everyone on task, that role fell on Andre. Magda appeared agitated, Andre bristly. I waited for either of them to protest before beginning my assessment of our situation.

  “Ashwood and Giant Pines have thirty residential workers ranging in age from six to sixteen. We also employ roughly twenty community youth workers whom we feed two meals a day and educate in the estate’s school.” I turned on the room screens so data covered the walls—wages, meals per day served to child workers and adult laborers, educational costs analyzed by residence status of child, as well as incidental expenses like clothing, transportation, and medical care. “Andre, what is our average expense per residential worker compared to expenses of a day worker?” I asked as the data continued to build.

  “Residential workers run approximately three times the expenses of a full-time day worker regardless the age of the child.” His voice still carried a slight French accent from growing up in Cameroon. “We absorbed five new residential workers in the past eight months, so that pushed our housing capacity to its limit. Additional residential workers require capital investment in new dormitory spaces. We’re also required by the local government to keep the estate school open to our regular day laborers’ children or we’ll lose funding for a half-time teacher.” He waited for people to read through the data. “Jason can tell us more about the school.” Ignoring that some of his peers had not been involved, Andre opened a new topic. “At least the DOE grant kids would bring a teacher and their own housing.”

  Puzzled faces turned to me. “We used regular business information to respond to a DOE request to house a gifted student’s special school. They’ve bundled this program under a series of grants with handsome financials and a lot of spiffs. Because of timing, Jason, Andre, and I responded. Ashwood would have to accept up to ten students. There is lots of upside—the school is totally self-funding with positive public relations for Ashwood.” Heads nodded, returned to Andre’s data.

  “Have you worked up the financials on the costs of building dorm space and school changes for the urban initiative?” I asked Andre. A few lines of numbers caught my attention where something about cost per meal and vendor expenses contradicted my historical understanding. “Jeremiah, something about our food costs is off. If you remove the new residential workers, these numbers have increased almost thirty-five percent in the past five months after standard inflation. With use of the kitchen garden produce. The numbers should be lower. What’s going on?”

  “These numbers are different from those I circulated yesterday,” Andre interjected. “That can’t be. I approved the final reports this morning.”

  With less than two hours until the call with counsel, work stopped. “We don’t have time to isolate the problem, Andre.” He didn’t look up as I spoke. “Could we use your old projected financials and put someone onto looking at the problems in this report?”

  “I need ten minutes,” Andre said as he stood up. “A subset of these numbers have to be filed with our youth redeployment application, so we need to get to the bottom of the situation. Talk through other sections of the program while I’m gone.”

  “Here’s where I’d like to focus while Andre’s gone.” I redirected the team, knowing a short break would draw them into production issues. “The preliminary government recommendation is that Ashwood absorb up to ten residential workers while we retain existing day laborer and worker numbers.” I paused as the team took in that information. “That means adding significant expense with no assistance.”

  Lao, his logic and calmness always critical to our proceedings, put up his hand—a quirky habit he had never shed while sitting at the management table. I nodded toward him.

  “Timing is everything. If these kids arrive for the harvest, we could use temporary quarters without a housing variance. Once harvest is complete, we do not have space, beds, or other facilities to meet Bureau of Human Capital Management domestic worker requirements. Taking on that kind of building could put jeopardize Ashwood’s profitability.”

  Like many small businesses, we used private financing for major expenditures. The past two years Hartford, Ltd., had been totally self-sufficient and even the thought of dealing with debt management both bothered and distracted me.

  “In operations, we have no capability to train that many kids.” Magda looked my way and paused. I pulled out of my own thoughts to pay attention. “As we boost greenhouse growing, there’s just no place for untrained young workers. I’m reading that this program will focus on older urban kids with spotty work histories. These are the ones more likely to bring knives and drugs and a whole lot of problems. Ashwood isn’t set up to be some kind of attitude boot camp for troubled kids.”

  “I hear these kids might not be so good in school, either,” Jeremiah added. “We had a cook networking session this morning. Lots of talk about this youth deployment program bringing big problems out to the country.”

  “Are they sending out kids who should be going to detention farms?” Paul’s question quieted us. “Anyone know why these kids have spotty work histories? I hear about meaningless metro assignments like scrubbing sidewalks or sorting materials at the recycling centers. Some of these kids might be too bright to stay with that kind of work. Some might be thugs. I’d like to know more about their profiles.”

  “You’ll be our key player if any of these kids land here, Paul. You do well with the older guys.” I let the conversation rest for a few seconds, wished there was time to talk one-on-one with the team about this challenge.

  “I hear three themes coming through—there are significant unfunded costs to this program as well as a negative impact on our involvement with our local community.” I brought the discussion back to where we started. “Finally, even if we were assigned well-trained kids, we don’t have the work, the facilities, or the resources to assure their success here.” I looked around the table, saw agreement. “So how do we build our case?”

  “We use the Bureau’s labor ratios as a start,” Magda suggested. “We point to Ashwood’s past willingness to accept kids with educational needs.” She shrugged, a sage manager who had learned through trial and error how to work with a wide range of young people. “We’ve been a friggin’ pilot site for school programs since Jason arrived. No one can say this estate has walked away from helping kids.”

  Jason settled back in his wheeled chair. The hot weather sapped his energy. “I can work up data on how many community youth and day laborers’ children will be displaced by additional residential workers. If these kids need special assistance, we’ll have to push nonresident students back into community schools.” He sipped at his water. “Andre can reuse the financial model we’ve built for other grant applications to show what our school saves community districts.”

  “Ms. Anne.” The speaker on the table activated. “We are shutting down all data systems. We’ve been corrupted.”

  “Tell Andre to get back in here.” I turned off the speaker. “Lao, do you know anything about what’s going on?”

  His calm face provided no visual cues. This man claimed my trust through years of protecting Ashwood and all within. “We do have a problem within our systems. I’d rather not say more.”

  “We have backup data?” My fingers tapped their way across my data pad, entering a privacy code for the secured server Lao maintained for my use.

  “It would not be wise to open that system right now, Ms. Anne.” Lao raised his voice. “Use yesterday’s data tables, but do not open your secured data.”

 
Hesitating with two digits left in my password, I looked up. Everyone looked at Lao, fascinated as he moved to his knees and then down to the floor as easily as a toddler sliding from an adult’s lap. He tapped his index finger against his lips and waved his other hand as he disappeared under the table. I took the wave as a sign to continue the meeting.

  “Let’s pull together our report using yesterday’s data as Lao recommends. If anyone has difficulties locating those numbers, talk with Andre.” I stretched as I looked out a window. “Hot as hell out there again. Magda, I’m so pleased we put up tents for sun shelter and the misting station. I trust everyone’s using maximum UV protection?”

  “They’re wearing our gear.” She gazed out the same window. “Too many of these metro day laborers come with silly city sun shades and have no idea how quickly they could be burned or get sick.”

  “Magda, Jason, Paul, and Lao, I’d like you to join me for the five-thirty call. Jeremiah, you’ll be needed in the kitchen.” I reached for the water. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be working at my desk the rest of the afternoon.”

  They filed out, Lao hanging back. “Would you have time for a walk through the orchard, Anne?” His tone told me nothing, and that alone told me he had serious information to discuss away from possible security issues within our complex. “We will have a good crop, Magda says. I have an idea about irrigation that needs your approval.”

  “Let me say good-bye to my husband first.” He waited as I headed to David’s office just in time for a hug and a kiss. “Let me walk you to the transport.” His morning anxiety raised my own.

  “Better if we do everything normally.” David hitched his case over his shoulder and extended his free arm. “I can tell you’re having a wicked day.” He pulled me close. “Take some time to think through this Smithson situation. I had one of the DOE folks do a little file searching, and I think our family would be good for Andrew.” We kissed again. “No pressure, Annie.”

  “You’re a great guy, Mr. Regan.” David preferred humor when a departure might become emotional.

  “That’s why the DOE tells me I have to go to Paraguay.”

  “Seriously, take care of yourself. I love you.” I backed away.

  “I know.” He left, waving his left hand but not turning again.

  Work demanded that I be a calm wife. I return to the conference room and Lao. He directed our walk back across the courtyard to the estate’s business office. Andre stood deep in discussion with staff, but Lao lifted a thumb and Andre joined us.

  “Out to look at the apples?” our business manager asked.

  Lao nodded. “The three of us need to discuss something now. Won’t hurt for Anne to get some sunshine at the same time.”

  I never, never questioned Lao’s intentions. From our earliest days of working together I knew he took his responsibility for watching over Ashwood as a deep commitment. With a wife and a toddler living here, he also called the estate home.

  Afternoon September heat blasted my face as we left the building. Instinctively I lifted my face upward for the sun’s warmth, then tilted my face back toward the ground as I reached into my pants’ pocket for sunglasses. “Is this the seventh day above ninety degrees? I thought yesterday’s rain might have snapped the heat.”

  “Back-to-back fronts from the south, Anne.” Lao lifted his hat to his head from his neck, where it hung by strings. “We’ll pick up hats for you and Andre at the workers’ station.”

  My boys stood side by side next to a long table with a group out in a sorting shed. They were workers as good as any young kids. I gazed at my watch, surprised that most of the afternoon was already gone. Having missed lunch with the family, I needed to be with them for dinner even if I could only spend a few minutes at the table.

  Ashwood’s dusty footpaths led us to the orchards, where high tech and low tech combined to keep hungry birds out of the low-hanging trees. Weather patterns this growing season gave us potential for a record harvest of apples, pears, and raspberries. Apples provided us with a solid income and valued food resources. Pears and raspberries were luxury crops we sent to market for top money. Here, all was quiet with summer weeding and spraying completed and all the hard work now left for the sun and rain. Lao veered toward the apple stands.

  “I will be quick,” Lao said as we stood amid low Honeycrisp variety branches. “Andre and his staff began finding small discrepancies in Jeremiah’s food accounts last quarter. We performed an internal audit and tracked issues back to the beginning of the year. Very sophisticated entry technique.”

  Andre interrupted. “He’s been embezzling from Ashwood and directing funds toward an account in Bermuda. Significant funds.”

  “Why would Jeremiah do that?” I asked. “He’s been the best kitchen manager we’ve had since Terrell left. Jason has only good things to say about his partner as a teaching assistant. I don’t understand.”

  “It doesn’t matter why a man steals,” Andre responded. “We need to report him to the authorities today and have him arrested.”

  Bees moved through the orchard. Far ahead on the transport path I could see wavy heat rising from the crushed stone surface. “This might be one of the worst days I’ve had for a long time.” They would not think me whiny for stating the truth. “But it does matter to me why Jeremiah would risk so much. He’ll spend years in jail. A lot of years.”

  “He has stolen at least twice his annual wage in just nine months.” Lao pulled down a branch and picked a red and gold apple. “And his partner may be the person responsible for corrupting our data files. By the time we return to the residence, we’ll know if that’s true.” He offered the apple to me.

  I shook my head. “And why didn’t I know this was going on?”

  “The numbers were small until recently.” Distant shades of Cameroon came forward in Andre’s voice. “We thought our newest analyst might be misclassifying expenses. This last quarter Jeremiah and his partner became bolder, although erratic.”

  “It was my decision to let the investigator take time,” Lao said. “Insurance will cover most of the loss, so I didn’t want to make this a big deal until we were ready to take action. We were going to tell you everything. A meeting called Outside Security Utilization is on your calendar.” He rubbed the apple against his pants. “Something must have tipped Jeremiah that we were on to him and he transferred funds this morning.”

  Hartford, Ltd., spanned many enterprises beyond Ashwood and Giant Pines, a sister estate, so its managers operated with great autonomy. I felt uncomfortable about how that independence looked today. I had no excuses beyond complacency for letting people like Penfeller and Jeremiah mess with Ashwood. “So you called the Bureau? He is our last key government employee.”

  “We had no choice.” Andre’s voice blended with the rustling of the leaves as a hot breeze moved through the trees. “I have a meeting with him in a few minutes to go over numbers. Lao called the authorities, who are on their way.” He tipped his head with respect in my direction. “You can block our action, Ms. Anne, but the cook position is too critical to the estate to not have a person we can trust.”

  “I have had an investigator working on the system security breach.” Lao tucked the apple in a pants pocket. “This is very serious. I am nervous about Jeremiah even touching a data pad while we are out here.”

  “But we’re at the most critical time of the year for filling Ashwood’s food reserves. This morning he told me we had about three months of supplies in place.” My hat felt like a band constricting my brain. “I’ll have to ask Sarah to supervise a temporary replacement from the Bureau.”

  The men remained silent, giving me time to accept our dilemma. “Okay. Tell me what you need me to do.”

  “Just knock on my door at four-fifteen and come in to sign the paperwork,” Andre said.

  “Fine, I’ll be there. What about his partner?” Tonight’s dinner arrangements popped up in my mind as I tried to accept a dual betrayal.

  “He’l
l be arrested at the same time. We’ll secure their quarters while the arrests take place.” Lao extended a hand toward me, an odd gesture for this self-contained man. He turned his palm up as he spoke. “If I may be the bearer of possible good news?”

  “Please, Lao, please share something to rescue this day.” I wondered if he knew my day began with the Smithson situation and realized how dazed I felt that on top of David’s assignment.

  “You know Terrell and I have remained friends throughout his travels with the DOE?” Lao never hurried his words.

  “And?”

  “And, because he’s completed his last years of DOE projects, I took the liberty of asking him about his interest in returning to Ashwood as a privately employed manager.”

  “Lao, if you tell me he said yes, I may have to dance with you under these trees.”

  Wrapping one arm across his middle and the other behind his back, Lao bowed then straightened up, opening his arms as if for a waltz. His smile challenged the sun’s brightness.

  “Oh, my God.” I let the words fly into the quiet while I hugged a surprised Lao. “When is he available?”

  “He’s on his way here from Baltimore and arrives around ten tonight.” Andre, who never knew Ashwood’s best cook and my closest confidant, saw me grin like a crazy woman as Lao talked. “If you want to prep him about Ashwood, he can be in your office as early as tomorrow morning.”

  “Should I pick him up at the jet port?”

  “Anne, I think you and your family have enough going on tonight.” Lao’s voice gentled. “Be with them. Tomorrow will be an easier day.”

  Chapter Eight

  Theft, embezzlement, and bribery made up the bulk of estate crimes. From day laborers carrying food out under their clothes to complicated transfers of funds to private accounts, the authorities demanded immediate involvement in dealing with the accused. Local officials claimed jurisdiction over simple theft of less than five thousand dollars. State officials enforced all weapon-related issues. Fund transfers and embezzlement fell under federal control because most estates were still managed by government employees. Tight management of information about these crimes was notorious. Big government had nurtured an astounding amount of employee misbehavior.