Chapter 115: His Father Wasn’t the One She Was Marrying Either

Dove went straight to Caldwell’s office and asked him to collect the worker who had taken her payment. She stayed in the doorway while he did it, with Thorne beside her and Edrik watching the kitchen entrance.

"I paid for flour and bread," she said when both men were present. "He says it’s ready. Your son says I have to ask him for it. Which agreement does this place honor?"

The worker confirmed the trade, looking miserable about being between the keeper and his son. Dove kept her anger away from him. He hadn’t set the price or decided her no was an opening offer.

Caldwell ordered the goods brought to her counter. Then he waited until the worker left before suggesting she might make things easier by accepting a harmless gift from Hollis.

"Harmless for who?" Dove asked. "If I take it, he’ll call it encouragement. If I don’t, he’ll find another thing to hold hostage. You want an easier day, tell your son to stop making it difficult."

Thorne’s hand stayed warm at her back. Edrik looked as though he would have enjoyed hearing the answer to that more than dinner.

Caldwell rubbed his jaw. He wasn’t pleased, but he agreed that paid goods would be delivered without extra conditions. They put it in the same trade book used for room and storage agreements, with the worker’s name beside the payment he’d already witnessed.

"And don’t tell me you’re doing me a favor," she added. "I paid for it this afternoon." Caldwell nodded toward the kitchen, and this time the worker was allowed to carry her purchase straight past Hollis.

The bread arrived before closing, still soft. Thorne carried the flour inside while Dove divided the loaf for supper. She had won an ordinary purchase she’d already paid for, which was a ridiculous thing to feel relieved about. She let herself feel it anyway.

Day Fifty-Five brought a pool wash, clean pillowcases, and four packs of heavy-duty zipper bags from Sprout. Three sales would pay. She set them on the counter while it offered a folding cupboard, then looked at the room around her. She wasn’t buying furniture for a place she already wanted to leave.

She sold all four packs. Drivers wanted them for dry clothes and papers; kitchen workers wanted them for food. She held one open for a driver to check against his folded map. Her trades brought oats, canned tomatoes, soap, and clean cloth, which she stored by touch behind the table.

With every pack sold, there was nothing to keep or return. She finished her practice and let Sprout settle both rewards while putting the traded goods away. The cupboard stayed unbought. She smoothed the pillowcase she’d brought from their room and found herself wishing she were choosing things for a place they actually liked.

Thorne made the small counter easier to use that afternoon. With Caldwell’s permission, he shaped an old bracket into a secure support for the loose shelf. Then he used ordinary screws and a borrowed driver to finish it, checking the wood instead of pretending metal alone could hold rotten boards.

Dove stood beside him with the tools. "A handsome man fixing my shelf. This used to be a much less complicated fantasy."

"You could thank me without complaining."

"Then how would you know it was me?"

She kissed his cheek when he put the driver down. His tail curled toward her ankle, and Edrik shook his head as though watching the most spoiled creature in the state.

"You’re next if you keep looking pleased," she told the bear.

"I was trying to look available."

That made her laugh hard enough that she had to set down the screws. A man at the next table watched the exchange, then looked away when Thorne caught him staring at Dove’s mouth. Edrik didn’t bother looking away from her at all.

They closed before sunset and took supper to their room: thick sandwiches, a pot of beef and vegetables, and peaches for dessert. Thorne sat close enough for her to rest her leg over his while she ate. Edrik took the chair by the outer door, turning toward her whenever she spoke instead of treating the yard as more important than every sentence she said.

Dove told them she wanted one evening without Hollis. No stories about what he had done, no guesses about what he might try. Edrik agreed immediately, then asked whether she wanted cards or whether losing again would ruin the peace.

"I let you win," she said.

"Then thank you for being so generous. Are you planning to let me win this one too?"

Thorne laughed, and she dealt the cards with unnecessary force just to make both men enjoy themselves more.

Dove lost the first game, partly because Thorne kept rubbing his thumb along her ankle and partly because Edrik was a smug bastard with very good cards. She refused to give either man the satisfaction of knowing which annoyed her more.

While she shuffled, she asked Sprout whether it could show her something worth selling in this heat. Three customers had wanted drinks that afternoon, and the diner kept its safe water behind the kitchen counter.

"Customer demand creates opportunity," it replied.

"That was almost an answer. Keep going, and maybe we’ll get somewhere."

It opened her inventory instead. Dove put a drinks check on tomorrow’s list, then discovered Edrik had quietly moved the lamp so she could see her cards better. He hadn’t asked for a smile in return. She gave him one anyway, small enough that it felt like something between them.

They were halfway through the second game when a knock came at the outer door. Edrik checked before opening it. A carrier stood outside with travel dirt on his boots and a familiar folded pouch at his belt.

Dove recognized the mended strap from the Pump Depot. He had been the man waiting downstairs when she’d asked about Ash, the one who had accepted their folded message before they left for Pine Ridge.

"I saw your panther at the counter," he said. "I’ve been trying to find a chance to speak without your visitors listening."

Thorne stood. Dove put down her cards, the easy evening suddenly resting on an answer she’d wanted and dreaded for days.

"Did you give him the message?" she asked.

The carrier looked from her to Thorne. "Yes. And Ash had more questions than you put answers in it."