Chapter 183: The Apocalypse Could Wait Until Lunch

Dove wrote her answer on the back of the note and handed it to the freight-office runner before he could leave the street. They could discuss the job tomorrow afternoon. They weren’t available in the morning.

The boy read the first line, nodded, and went on his way. The world did not collapse because she had declined to wake up for somebody else’s schedule. Dove found that almost insulting after how long she’d spent worrying it might.

Thorne read her face when she came back in. "Did they argue?"

"No. It’s possible I’ve been doing some of the arguing for them."

Edrik lifted the snack bag. "Then stop. There’s food."

She joined them, put the note aside, and refused to turn the evening into an inspection of every possible thing tomorrow’s crew might want. They ate, talked, and went to bed with the front closed and their belongings where they expected them to be.

Day Ninety-Five arrived hot enough that Dove was pleased she’d protected the morning. She washed with her pond water, brushed her hair loose, and put on the yellow dress. She chose household goods for later. Sprout offered folding washbasins, five sales for sixty-two normal coins, and reminded her about the usual storage, Favor, and exercise tasks.

"They can wait until I’m dressed and fed," she told it.

"Time management supports merchant success."

"Wonderful. Manage some silence for me."

Thorne brought breakfast to the table behind the curtain: eggs, toast, cooked potatoes, and fruit. Edrik set down coffee and then sat instead of searching for a chore that would justify staying near her. She nudged his bare foot with hers under the table.

She wore the blue stone at her throat. When Edrik touched it gently with one finger, his attention moved from the stone to her face, and she knew exactly what he wanted before he asked anything.

"Breakfast first," she said, smiling.

"I’m looking, not starving."

"You can manage both. I’ve seen it."

Thorne laughed into his cup. Dove ate until she was full, then leaned back while the men finished portions that suited them. Dove stole another potato off Thorne’s plate and enjoyed his offended look.

Afterward they moved beneath the ordinary awning. The storefront stayed packed, the closed sign visible. Dove sat with the old campground booklet Iris had given her, looking at places that had once been ordinary weekend trips. Her lake postcard stayed above the bed. This booklet had whole pages she could share.

She liked the cabins and hated the cheerful people in tents on principle. Edrik asked why anyone had paid to sleep where insects could reach them. Thorne said some people enjoyed the air.

"Some people also enjoy running before breakfast," Dove said. "We don’t have to understand everybody."

A customer stopped at the awning and asked whether she could sell him a washbasin now. Dove hesitated. It would have been an easy trade. Then she looked at the open booklet, the coffee still warm beside her, and Thorne’s hand resting on her knee.

"After lunch," she said. "The sign has the time."

The man accepted it and left. Edrik looked so pleased that she tapped his chin with the corner of the booklet.

"Don’t make being slightly selfish a celebration."

"Why not? You look good at it."

She let herself smile. When Thorne drew her into his lap, she went willingly, settling sideways so she could still see the pictures. His arm rested around her without holding her there, and she scratched behind his ear until his tail moved against the chair.

Edrik leaned back beside them with his shirt open at the throat. Dove caught herself looking at the pale skin and the strength beneath it. She reached over, took his hand, and rested it on the booklet between them.

"You can help choose somewhere," she said.

For a moment neither man made a joke. Thorne looked at the photographs over her shoulder. Edrik turned a page carefully, then asked which of the cabins she liked.

They marked a place they’d like to see if they could find a safe road. Dove let herself imagine arriving there with a bag of food instead of an excuse to leave. It felt almost reckless to want a trip for the pleasure of it.

The picture they lingered over showed a small cabin with a porch and a broad strip of grass leading toward water. Dove imagined sitting there in shorts with something cold to drink, then caught herself checking how much shade the porch would get.

"I’m making a vacation stressful," she admitted.

Thorne rested his chin lightly against her hair. "You can just like the picture."

"Apparently I need lessons," she said, and let herself keep looking at the porch instead of checking the exits.

Edrik took the booklet only after she offered it. He folded a clean scrap of paper beside the page rather than bending its corner, which made her want to kiss him for a reason she couldn’t have explained without sounding ridiculous. She did it anyway. He smiled against her mouth, and Thorne’s arm warmed around her waist.

Before lunch, Dove changed and asked Edrik for their fifteen minutes of practice. Today she wanted to know whether she could keep her footing when he changed the timing. He warned her once, then let her miss it and try again.

"Better," he said when she stepped clear. "You waited instead of guessing."

She smiled before remembering she had meant to look difficult. "Say that again. I think the heat affected my hearing."

He leaned close enough that she felt his breath at her ear. "You heard me."

While she drank, Thorne practiced opening and closing the curve of a spare awning clip with his power. Edrik took the same piece and reinforced it during Thorne’s careful pull, then released it for comparison. Both stopped before the clip bent out of shape.

Thorne curled the loose clip into two little ears before straightening it again. Dove accused him of showing off. He admitted it without shame, and Edrik asked whether she intended to reward the better student. She told them both to keep practicing while she finished her coffee.

She summoned the storefront at the posted time and approved the basin trades. The first man returned, bought his basin, and brought a friend. Other trades followed, enough to complete the daily sales target before the recovery crew arrived. Dove used the improved mood to be patient with one customer and less patient with another who called Thorne over to discuss her price.

By late afternoon, the crew leader stood at her counter with a map. He wanted help recovering portable water tanks and serving equipment from an event-supply yard outside the district. The tanks belonged to a business whose surviving partner had authorized the recovery.

Dove asked what her household would receive, who else was going, and why the crew needed them. He answered the first two plainly, then pointed to the yard’s main storage shed.

Another group was already there, and both groups believed they had been promised the same load.