Chapter 189: Her Counter Had Better Morning Habits

Dove chose the early truck and complained about it with her entire face while Thorne packed the room. She still washed with her pond water, ate the arranged breakfast, and checked their belongings before leaving. She found her necklace beneath a folded shirt and put it on before anyone could call them ready.

The driver checked the counter straps while Dove counted their pans and containers. Edrik held out her coffee before she could ask. He had remembered how she took it, which was deeply inconvenient for a woman trying to be annoyed about the hour. She drank, caught his sleeve, and kissed him where the driver couldn’t see. Thorne saw anyway and leaned down for his turn.

They followed the early truck in their pickup. At its first stop, Dove searched a bus shelter’s maintenance cupboard, finding two good brushes, sealed gloves, and an empty tool tin. Behind their parked truck, screened from the crew, she touch-stored the brushes and gloves, then kept the tin too. Three finds finished the task, not the search.

She chose equipment on Day Ninety-Seven. At the stop, the driver cleared a level patch beside the bus shelter for her shop. Four headlamps sold for approved trades, earning sixty-one normal coins. She packed up before they drove on. Dove kept none and returned none. The larger stock range didn’t mean every day had to involve furniture.

At B, the injured worker’s friend met the truck and reported that the man had been checked and would recover with rest. Dove thanked him and asked him to pass on their good wishes. The worker was staying with his brother, who had brought food and promised to keep him off the injured leg.

The serving counter reached her shop intact. Unloading kept Dove moving long enough to finish her exercise task, though Sprout offered no sympathy for the sweat running down her back. She summoned the empty storefront indoors. Thorne and Edrik rolled the recovered counter beneath their outdoor awning. It was tall enough to work without bending and deep enough to keep packed goods out of direct sun.

Dove ran her hand over the cleaned surface. "I love it."

Edrik glanced at Thorne. "We’re competing with furniture again."

"Furniture doesn’t leave boots where I trip over them."

"It has wheels," Thorne said. "Give it time."

She laughed and kissed him before handing over the empty cloth. Her own food and finds finally had a surface separate from the vending cabinet.

The street’s power was back on for scheduled hours. Dove used the afternoon window to charge their equipment, run the cooler, and test the movie player’s adapter. The fan stayed on. Tonight she would wear the yellow dress, eat something good, and watch a movie with her husbands. She said so aloud before anybody arrived with a reason she couldn’t.

Customers stopped to examine the new counter. One asked whether Thorne had built it for her. Dove explained the recovery, the trade, and the repair without making her husband’s contribution smaller or her own disappear.

"She picked it and got it here," Thorne said. "I fixed a bracket."

The customer seemed surprised by how easily he gave her the credit. Edrik leaned against the doorway, watching with a smile Dove knew was partly for the man’s discomfort.

She told him to bring out the sound storage bins if he wanted to be decorative. He obeyed, which made the customer even less certain what sort of household he was looking at.

During a quiet stretch, she set a serving pan on the new counter. It fit. She could set out her snacks beside drinks without blocking the cabinet’s collection hatch. She filled it with wrapped snacks and caught herself smiling at a damn rectangle again.

"Could you offer something that goes with this?" she asked Sprout. "A drink and a snack people actually want together?"

"You can combine goods you own. Tomorrow’s issue remains unconfirmed."

"That was almost helpful. Try not to hurt yourself." She moved her ordinary drink bottles beside the snacks. There was no extra reward for selling them together, but nobody needed to award her a coin for having an idea.

A man stopped to trade for a snack and stared at her for long enough that Thorne looked up from cleaning a shelf.

"The food’s down here," Dove told the customer, tapping the counter. "My face isn’t part of the offer."

He flushed and apologized, then made a perfectly sensible trade. Thorne waited until the man had left before smiling at her.

"You handled that before I could help," he said, leaving the cleaned shelf to come stand beside her.

"I was saving you the trouble. Don’t make me regret it."

Thorne came around the counter and kissed her cheek. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

He absolutely would, judging by the hand that found her waist. Dove let it stay while she counted the trade, then turned into him for a second kiss she’d chosen herself.

By closing, her normal coins had reached thirteen hundred and fifty-nine. Seventeen fresh Favor from the day’s reactions and the mate extra brought her to one hundred and sixteen. She closed the totals and asked Sprout about the drinks target. Did it still expect five cups or two bottles when she had already shut the shop?

"The target is optional. No additional coin reward is attached."

Then it could wait until tomorrow. She wasn’t opening good drinking water for an empty street, and the bottles for her men stayed behind the curtain.

Dinner filled the little table behind the curtain: rice, meat, vegetables, and the last of an opened fruit jar. Thorne brought the bowl for seconds, and Edrik stole a piece before it reached the table.

"You have a plate," she said.

"I have excellent reach."

"You also have me within throwing distance."

He smiled and passed her the bowl. Some arguments could remain very small and still make the room feel like hers.

After washing the dishes, she changed into the yellow dress because she wanted to, not because the movie required formal wear. Thorne set the player where all three could see it. Edrik checked the door, put his weapon where he could reach it without keeping it on his lap, and settled beside her.

Dove leaned between them as the opening picture appeared. The screen was small, the sound imperfect, and one corner of the disc case had been chewed by something with terrible taste. She could not remember being happier with an evening’s entertainment.

Onscreen, a woman came home, dropped her bag, and complained about the coffee she’d bought on the way. Dove knew that tired little sigh. She had made it a thousand times before dying.

Thorne offered her the snack bowl, then stopped when she didn’t take it. Edrik’s arm loosened so she could turn if she wanted.

She had finally arranged a good evening. Why the hell did she suddenly want a life she couldn’t get back?

"Leave it on," she said when Edrik reached for the remote. She wanted to see how the woman’s night ended, even if it hurt.