Chapter 109: She Could Want It Without Stealing a War

Dove took her hand off the latch and called Edrik over. He examined the paint, then checked the dusty floor beneath the door. Fresh boot marks led out toward the service drive they had just used.

"Somebody comes back," he said. "Question is how soon."

"Before I convince myself the washstand needs rescuing, preferably."

Thorne carried their blankets through the shop’s front waiting area into the office behind it. A desk sat against the rear wall, with two filing cabinets beside the window overlooking the concrete apron. Edrik set their packs beneath the desk while Dove unpacked supper. The marked storeroom was farther down the hall, well away from where she’d be sleeping.

The owner came the next morning, Day Forty-Nine, with a key on a yellow cord. He was a broad deer beastman with a short cart and two workers. Dove stayed behind the desk until he introduced himself as the man storing salvage for sale, then asked him to open the marked door.

He unlocked it and waved them toward the shelves, suddenly smoothing down his shirt when Dove stepped into the light. She pointed at the folding washstand before he could spend the morning telling her what a surprise she was. He had prices marked on cardboard beside the goods, plus a list of deliveries for the supply stop down the road.

"I want the washstand and that folding table," she said. "What are you taking for them?"

The man glanced at Thorne, then at Edrik, and named a price that included Dove having dinner with him. She smiled without warmth.

"Interesting. What’s the price for people buying furniture?" He tried to laugh it off. Edrik didn’t laugh with him, and Thorne rested a hand on the table Dove wanted. The seller tried a smarter answer the second time: canned food, clean rope, and a pack of batteries.

Dove negotiated the quantity, checked the joints, and offered one of her owned battery packs instead of pretending her presence improved the furniture. They settled on the batteries, two cans of chicken from household supplies, and a length of rope. The sale cargo remained tied separately on the cart.

She didn’t move the whole purchase into her space at once. The folded washstand went first, then she sat and ate part of a sandwich before storing the table. Her third new item was a shallow basin the seller included after she pointed out a crack in the original one. Three cleared the task, but she also bought two hand towels with a spare pair of work gloves from the feed store. Tonight she could wash and dry herself without borrowing somebody’s shirt.

"Would you have taken it if I hadn’t come?" he asked.

"If I thought nobody owned it, yes. That’s why I checked the paint instead of pretending I hadn’t seen it."

He seemed to respect that more than a promise she couldn’t honestly make. His workers went back to the storeroom while Dove considered asking about the road.

Her Day Forty-Nine wash was already done, and today’s stock waited behind the office door: four large vacuum bottles, each capable of holding enough coffee to improve a very bad morning. Sprout needed three sold. Would it heat cold coffee? Sprout said no, so she would fill it hot before leaving. The covered handcart stayed unbought.

The seller bought two bottles for coffee and canned vegetables. A worker bought the third with flour and clean towels. Dove kept the last for four Favor. Cold coffee was a disappointment she could finally do something about.

Practice finished her active minutes, and Sprout settled the rewards after counting their genuine reactions. She put the bottle away for breakfast.

Dove asked about the red pickup behind the shop before he could sell her another chair. He had taken it in trade after the freeze, he said, and hadn’t managed to start it. The roof had kept snow off it. If they wanted to try, he’d discuss a price after they knew whether it ran.

"Not paying for a very large flowerpot," she warned. He agreed, then offered another night in the office if they cleared loose scrap from the repair bay. Thorne and Edrik shifted the heavy pieces while Dove gathered sharp bits into an old bin. They finished in under an hour. She went inside, shook the grit out of her sleeves, and told both men she’d earned first turn at their new washstand.

By evening, warm water stood in their new basin at a comfortable height. Dove washed her hands without bending over a bucket and felt stupidly pleased.

"I could kiss a piece of furniture," she said.

Thorne stood behind it. "I’m taller and already interested."

She kissed him instead, partly because he deserved it and partly because Edrik’s expression suggested he was keeping a list of objects receiving more attention than he was.

One of the seller’s workers offered to carry Dove’s basin if she would tell him where she slept. She looked at the empty basin, then at his eager face.

"I can lift this. You can survive not knowing."

Thorne stood behind her with the purchased table, his stare making the worker remember somewhere else he needed to be. Dove waited until he left before patting her husband’s arm.

"Very frightening. You even held furniture while doing it."

Thorne bent for the kiss she offered, smiling against her cheek. Edrik watched from the office doorway, openly entertained. Dove liked seeing him enjoy her being difficult without trying to make the answer gentler for a stranger.

Later, Edrik brought her a packet from the seller’s shelves. Chocolate-covered pretzels, sealed and well within their date. He had traded a spare belt buckle for them, he said, before she asked.

Dove looked at the packet, then at the man pretending this was no more personal than replacing a rope.

"You remembered the sweet-and-salty thing," she said. Edrik pointed out that she’d mentioned it three times. Dove narrowed her eyes at him. "That sounds like a complaint." His smile changed a little. "Three times, Dove. I got the hint."

She held out a pretzel and almost pulled it back when he bent to take it from her fingers. His mouth barely brushed her hand, but she felt it long after he’d straightened. Edrik smiled at her pink face. Dove shoved the packet against his chest and told him to put it on the table before she ate the lot.

At dinner they used the new table for rice, canned beef cooked with tomatoes, and warm bread from the seller’s kitchen stock. Dove set the remaining pretzels aside for tomorrow. She wanted one evening when dessert wasn’t eaten standing over a bag.

"We’ll make something decent of it," she told Thorne. "Sit down, eat slowly, pretend the road can wait."

Edrik began moving his things into the front waiting area, saying he would keep watch while they had their evening. Dove caught the edge of his sleeve before he passed.

"I said we," she told him. "Put a third chair at the table."