“Five.”
Harold laughed.
“I called four places.”
“One guy told me to buy a newer planter.”
Raymond shrugged.
“Dealers enjoy selling things.”
“How much?”
Ethan froze.
They had never seriously discussed pricing.
Raymond looked at him.
His inventory.
His decision.
Ethan thought about the original cost.
One hundred eighty dollars for approximately nine hundred plates.
Twenty cents per plate on average.
But that calculation felt wrong now.
The work mattered.
Cleaning.
Identification.
Storage.
The problem solved.
Still, Ethan was afraid to ask too much.
“Fifteen dollars?”
Harold did not hesitate.
“Done.”
He pulled out his wallet.
Three five-dollar bills.
Ethan accepted them.
The money felt heavier than the original $180 had.
Harold carried the plate toward the door.
Then stopped.
“You’re sure it fits?”
Ethan looked at the housing.
Raymond said nothing.
This was another test.
Ethan checked center engagement.
Thickness.
Diameter.
Casting.
“Yes.”
Harold nodded.
“If it doesn’t?”
“Bring it back.”
Harold smiled.
“Fair enough.”
Two days later, Harold returned.
Ethan’s stomach dropped when he saw him.
“Problem?”
Harold grinned.
“No.”
“Perfect.”
He placed a paper sack on the counter.
Inside were homemade cinnamon rolls from his wife.
“For the parts man.”
Ethan smiled.
That fifteen-dollar sale changed everything.
Not financially.
Fifteen dollars did not recover his savings.
It proved demand existed.
Harold told people.
Farmers talked.
At the feed store.
At church.
At grain elevators.
At coffee counters where the same men occupied the same stools every morning.
The story was simple enough to travel well.
Bell’s kid bought Whitford’s old plate inventory.
He’s cataloging it.
Call before you scrap the planter.
The second customer wanted an old McCormick plate.
Ethan had two.
The third needed a John Deere number he did not have.
That failure bothered him.
The farmer left disappointed.
Raymond noticed Ethan staring at the card file afterward.
“You can’t solve every problem.”
“I could if I had more inventory.”
Raymond laughed.
“Careful.”
That was how businesses accidentally began.
By January, the calls averaged two or three a week.
“Bell Farm Repair?”
“Yes.”
“You the place with planter plates?”
Raymond would yell:
“Ethan!”
Eventually, Raymond got tired of interrupting repairs.
He placed a small notebook beside the phone.
PLANTER PLATE REQUESTS.
Caller.
Phone number.
Manufacturer.
Model.