Chapter 174: Her Buns Finally Got Their Attention

Dove chose the food category before Edrik could claim he had no opinion. Sprout confirmed the selection for the next morning, then reminded her that prepared stock needed sensible handling once she took it out.

"I’m not storing hot buns until next winter," she told it. "I’m selling them to men who could swallow a sofa."

Thorne looked at the empty counter space and offered to clear more of it. Dove caught him checking the tray size in her sketch and nudged his hip. "You want to be first in line, don’t you?"

"I can help and be hungry," he said, taking the cloth from her. "You’ve seen me do it."

They cleared a place beside the hatch where buyers could collect larger trays. Dove would open for breakfast, then close when the food sold. Anything dispensed needed eating or safe cooling; neither her space nor the counter would keep it fresh forever.

The next morning, after her wash, breakfast, and fifteen minutes of practice in the shaded yard, Sprout offered eight family-sized trays of hot barbecue buns. Selling six trays would earn sixty normal coins. A tray was one daily unit, and keeping an unsold one still required four Favor. Dove couldn’t buy all eight for herself simply because the menu looked good.

She repeated that part aloud while Thorne examined the first tray. Edrik counted the buns with the quiet focus he usually reserved for men he disliked.

"There are enough," she told him.

"I like knowing how much I’m going to miss if you sell all of it," he said, still counting.

Dove put up a clear sign, agreed on prices in useful trade goods, and opened before the street became too hot. The smell did more work than her handwriting. Within minutes, a restaurant worker came to the door pretending he had been sent to ask a business question.

She gave him the price. He went back for something to trade and returned with his boss, who asked whether the stock would be available every day.

"Different goods daily," she said. "This is today’s. I can choose food again, but I’m not promising a menu my supply list hasn’t shown me."

She had almost said Sprout instead of supply list. The restaurant owner was busy examining the tray and had no reason to notice the pause. Edrik glanced at her once from behind the counter, then continued packing an ordinary recovered rack for a customer.

She made a private note to be more careful. Knowing two people could hear the truth didn’t mean everyone could.

The cabinet dispensed the first six trays for approved trades within the breakfast window. Sprout awarded the sales reward. Customers were surprised by the portion size, pleased by the food, and interested in the woman calmly making two dangerous men carry boxes for her. Their reactions filled the twelve-Favor goal without her having to flirt at anyone she didn’t want.

Thorne wiped sauce from the collection ledge after the buyers left, then glanced at the two trays still behind glass. Helping people carry their breakfasts hadn’t made him less hungry. Dove knew exactly what he was about to ask.

"I was considering it," Dove said.

"Consider faster. He’s staring at it."

Edrik looked up. "I’m standing right here."

"That was the staring distance I meant."

Dove laughed and paid four Favor to retain one tray. The last sold to a family group buying food for several adults. Nothing went back.

They ate their tray in the rear room with vegetables, fruit, and additional food from their own pantry. The buns were a treat and part of a proper meal, not an entire day’s ration for three people. Thorne leaned against her while eating, looking so pleased that she scratched behind his ear before thinking about it.

"Good boy," she told him softly.

His tail moved against the bed. Edrik watched with open interest rather than pretending he didn’t want his own share of attention.

Dove held out her hand. He came close enough for her to pull him down and kiss his cheek. "You too, trouble."

He turned his face just enough to catch a second kiss. Sprout counted the fresh pleasure after the moment had happened, then left her alone when she dismissed it.

After lunch, Dove chose the height for their recovered shade cloth above the front window. Thorne touched each existing metal bracket and shaped its hook around the support. The first curled too tightly, so he eased it back, concentrating until the cloth slid without snagging. Edrik reinforced the bracket under his hand while Thorne fastened it, then let go so they could test the finished work without his help.

"You keep choosing the complicated ones," Dove told Thorne.

"I want to get better at them."

She liked that answer enough to hand him the next fitting instead of telling him to rest before he needed it. The two development books still waited in Sprout’s shop, each priced at 240 normal coins after its practice requirement. She asked whether their current work counted toward practice. It confirmed the relevant exercise, not a free book or a new power.

When the landlord asked whether the shade would stay if they moved, Dove looked up at the comfortable patch they had made. "That depends on what you’re offering me for it. I charge for home improvements, even when the installers are pretty."

Edrik held out his hand for payment. She kissed his fingers and sent him back up the ladder.

Dove sat in the new shade with her drink while the men put the tools away. The street still smelled hot, but the sun no longer hit her knees. Tomorrow a customer could stand here without sweating through a negotiation. Today she pulled up another chair and made Thorne join her.

Later, Iris arrived to confirm the carriers had reached the kitchens in good condition. She brought the confirmed charging schedule and checked that Dove had received the pantry goods and bedding from the collection crew. Dove confirmed the payment already made at the hotel, thanked her, and watched Iris inspect the new shade.

"The officer has been told not to negotiate on my behalf again," Iris said. "I thought you should hear that from me."

It didn’t undo his behavior, but it was an actual change. Dove said so, then offered her a drink chilled in the little unit during the latest power window.

Iris took one sip and closed her eyes. "You made the better purchase."

"I know. It’s terrible for my personality."

They laughed together. For a while the conversation stayed ordinary: food, heat, the misery of drying laundry indoors, men who thought they could solve every problem by carrying something heavy.

Then Iris took a folded note from her bag. It had come with a driver returning from the lake road that morning.

The hotel’s waterline had dropped again overnight. This time, the men clearing the dock had found something caught beneath it that Nolan wouldn’t let anyone touch.