Chapter 143: She Was Going Back for the Other Cart

Dove put a return time in the shop window before leaving, then made Thorne read it from the sidewalk. He could see it. Edrik could see it. A man who tried the handle while she stood beside the sign apparently could not, so she told him the afternoon would happen faster if he let her go find things to sell.

They drove through B’s delivery gate with one handcart and an empty crate in the pickup bed. Their closed shop held the household goods. Before leaving, Dove traded surplus owned stock for measured fuel at the receiving yard, keeping the system coins separate. Both husbands came with her.

Day Seventy-Four had started with pond water, eggs, fried potatoes, and Sprout delivering four boxes of hot barbecue buns, six large buns in each. She had kept one for four Favor and sold three at the neighboring loading yard before departure. The sales goal paid thirty-eight normal coins. Exercise and the twelve-Favor goal would finish as the day went on, and she needed three new stored finds while out on the road.

"Do bought goods count, or does it have to be salvage?" she asked Sprout while checking the task. New goods she acquired could count, it said. Moving the same things in and out could not. "There goes my plan to become rich by rearranging socks," she told it, closing the task.

Thorne looked back from the cart straps and caught her looking at his pockets. He raised an eyebrow, and she pointed him back at the work before he could make an offer.

The outdoor store stood a short distance beyond the delivery gate, on a raised commercial road with a tire shop and a closed drive-through restaurant. Snow survived in dirty banks beneath the buildings’ north walls. The pavement in front was dry, with a shallow trickle of water running along the far curb.

Edrik parked at the side loading bay, and Thorne helped Dove down before unloading the cart. Both men checked the building before she opened the side door wider. Having seats for the trip did not make a damaged roof safe to stand beneath.

The winter aisles were bare. The summer section was not. Folded camp chairs, light sleeping gear, water jugs, and boxes of battery fans stood behind a display advertising last year’s camping sale. Dove looked up at the cheerful banner and felt a deep, unreasonable fondness for whoever had chosen to overstock.

"You beautiful disaster," she murmured, patting a box. Edrik glanced over, and she pointed at the shelves. "Not you. Behave."

They found no occupied rooms or fresh claims. Sprout saved the inspected location beneath the contact’s report and offered no new reward for simply standing in it. Dove didn’t need paying twice to want useful goods.

She checked packages for damage while Thorne lowered boxes and Edrik tested the clear route back to the dock. They chose chairs with sound joints, sealed water jugs, a pack of light blankets, and clothing in sizes that might actually fit her husbands. Beastmen needed room across their shoulders. A shirt being marked large did not mean Edrik could breathe in it.

Dove held one against him and frowned. "You’d burst out of this."

"You’re looking pleased about that."

"Personally, yes. Financially, I have to sell it afterward. Try the next one."

He let her check a larger size, watching her hands while she smoothed the fabric against his chest. Thorne passed behind them with a stack of chairs and a grin that suggested he had opinions. She sent him to find a shirt too before both men became useless on purpose.

A wheeled camp table stood beneath the display. Dove checked its price tag out of habit, laughed at herself, then tested the legs. They already had a table, but somebody else would want this one. She marked it for the cart instead of deciding everything attractive belonged in their bedroom.

Her three-item storage target cleared on the first jug, clothing bundle, and blanket pack. She kept going through the accessible shelves, taking smaller bundles by touch and letting the men move the heavier goods. When her head grew light, she sat in a recovered chair and directed the next load.

"I understand why rich people do this," she told Thorne. "Bring the handsome one over with the cold drink."

He offered the water himself. "You’ll have to be more specific."

She caught his fingers and kissed them before drinking. Edrik leaned against the shelf beside her, wearing the sort of patient expression he used when waiting for her to notice he wanted attention too. Dove tugged his sleeve, bringing him close enough to kiss his cheek. He stopped pretending to watch the door for a moment.

They ate their retained buns with canned soup heated outside the open loading bay, plus fruit and extra bread for the men. Dove refused to trade her entire lunch for more looting time. The stock had waited through months of freezing weather. It could wait while she chewed. Thorne passed her the napkins without making her ask, and she saved him the bun with the most filling. Edrik noticed and stole a bite of hers in protest.

Behind the service counter, Edrik found a second handcart. One wheel was stiff and a metal brace had bent, but the frame was sound. He checked the axle while Thorne kept a palm against the brace and eased the bent metal straight with his power. They cleaned the wheel, tested it under weight, and brought it out with the other recovered goods.

Dove looked between the two carts, feeling a pleased little thrill. Twice the carrying room didn’t mean twice her strength, but it did mean leaving fewer useful things behind when her husbands could help.

Then Thorne called from the back corner. A pallet of boxed fans sat beneath a collapsed cardboard sign, still sealed above the dry floor. Dove counted more than would fit around the other goods already packed in their pickup.

She stood, folding the chair after her. "We’re making another trip. Don’t look at me like that. You both knew who you married."