A flume of sweet powder rose above the funnel as I tapped the can to release more. Vance took a deep inhale and sputtered a cough. I’d learned that lesson long ago and leaned away from the chocolaty cloud. Sure, it smelled delicious, but the tickle in the back of the throat wasn’t worth it. Once the can was empty, I removed the funnel and screwed the cap back onto the jug and handed it over to Vance. “How about giving that a good shake for me?”

“You didn’t leave any for that glass on the counter,” Vance pointed out, already holding the jug with both hands and shaking it over his head.

The vision of the lid giving way nearly made me giggle like a silly girl. Tamping it down, I turned to the stove and gave the rice a good mix. “Boss isn’t a fan of chocolate in his milk. The plain glass is for him.”

The swishing of the jug abated as Vance’s eyes cut to me and then to the skillet. “Are y’all having rice for breakfast?”

“Eggs and rice, yes.” I began cracking eggs, two at a time, dotting the top of the steaming rice.

“Like Chinese fried rice?”

“I don’t know nothing about Chinese rice, but this is just something we’ve always made with leftover rice. The crowd likes it.” I finished adding the eggs, salting and peppering the tops before taking the spatula and folding them into the rice.

Vance tossed the shells into my compost bucket and then placed the empty cartons by the door where we kept a stack of them. “It sure smells good.”

“You’re welcome to eat with us. You’ll need the fuel if you’re serious about working today.”

“I am serious.”

And he most certainly was. After he scarfed down his portion of eggs and rice and asked when I planned on making them again, Vance soldiered out to the field with the rest of the cropping crew while Peg and I set up the stringer.

“Only an idiot would be that excited about cropping baccer. You reckon purty boy is going to make it through the morning?” Peg asked, concentrating on loading a spool of twine into the machine.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I rolled the cart of tobacco sticks over to the conveyer belt. I scanned the bountiful fields surrounding the barn. The distinct peppery scent of tobacco welcomed me to the first gathering of the season. The mustiness underneath the barn overhang and the lingering fumes of the tractor added to the familiar cologne of our summers. I inhaled deeply to capture it all, wincing slightly when finding the note of Mama’s honeysuckle lotion missing. I let a brief moment of mourning her pass and refocused on the ramblings of my brother.

Peg let out a haughty laugh. “He’s going to get sick as a dog.”