Chapter 12 #2
“And you just haven’t billed?”
“The bills are there. Just have to put them in envelopes, address them, get stamps. You know.”
“You don’t have anyone to help with that?”
“Remember? I’m the admin.”
“And quotes? People ask for estimates and you don’t act on it immediately?”
Defensiveness made his shoulders tighten. “Rachel. I've been busy.”
“I’m trying to understand this. Not judge you. Pulling for You is growing. You have more work than you know what to do with. But you’re behind on estimates and invoicing. What else are you behind on?”
“Website inquiries. Bookkeeping. Yesterday, I had to pay a fine because I was late renewing my business license.”
“Please tell me your financial records are in good shape.”
“I have a business bank account and a business credit card. I have a CPA who does my books.”
“Whew.”
“But I’m behind,” he admitted.
“You’re getting the big things right.”
“I am?”
“If you have more clients than you can handle, then yes. The rest can be managed by hiring good help.”
“Have to find time to hire and train, and I don’t have that time.”
“You’re in the same bind as every growing business owner.”
“Other business owners aren’t expected to help their dad climb trees.”
Her smile was soft and sweet.
“That is a really good point. But Kell, congratulations.”
“For what?”
“For finding something you like, something you’re good at, and something that is intrinsically satisfying. Most people never get to the point you're at with Pulling for You. It’s admirable.”
“You admire me for having a business where I pull a weed out of the ground.”
“Don’t do that! Don’t minimize your accomplishments. It’s not that simple. You’re performing a service and making a profit. I’m proud of you.”
“Proud?”
“I push paper and work six levels down at a mega-corporation where my entire job is helping a business buy other businesses and create uncertainty for the other people, but certainty for the corporation. What you do is so much closer to people. Real people. And you help the environment, too, by using almost no chemicals.”
“Never thought of it that way.”
“Maybe you should.”
The piles of paperwork on the desk judged him. Rachel didn’t.
Proud? She was proud of him? He thought of pride as something he felt about himself, or something his parents felt about him.
For Rachel to say she was proud of him stirred up so many feelings, new and breathless, a swirl of contemplation.
His phone buzzed. That was his dad.
“Gotta go. Work here, Rachel. The snow will be cleared by noon, but even after that, feel free to work here. You’ll have the strongest internet in town, Randy won’t hump my apartment, and Cally has decided you’re her new best friend.
” He walked to the tiny coat closet near the door and found the hook where a pine cone keychain hung.
He handed it to her. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Key to the place. I’ll be gone all day at work. Pretend this is one of those fancy co-working centers. You even have coffee. There isn’t much in the fridge, but feel free to eat or drink anything you want.”
“Kell! I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s…”
“It makes sense. Kenny’s internet has always sucked. Most people who stay in the trailer don’t use it as intensively as you do. They’re tourists, not teleworkers. Just use my place.”
“Thank you.” She stood and kissed him on the cheek.
Reflexively, he reached for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. The cheek kiss was fine and all, but he wanted more.
So did she, if her response was any indication. Their hands in each other’s hair, mouths searching eagerly, he was ready to call off work and spend the day in bed with her.
“Oh!” Rachel pulled away as Kell’s hip buzzed.
“That’s Dad. Big project at Sunday River. Trees we need to move.” Of all the days to call in sick, this one could jeopardize the project.
Responsibility won out. It always did.
Her fingers wove into his thick beard, a contemplative smile on her face. “I love the beard, but it’s so different. You’re like two completely opposite men, all in one body.”
“Same body. Same Kell.”
“Your body changed, too.” Sliding her hand along his chest, she let out a low whistle. “You were not this muscular in D.C.”
“I was twenty-three, and I wasn’t climbing trees. Came home, filled out, and I work with my body for a living.”
“It’s hot.”
Hey, now. She was going there?
“You’re hot.”
Bzzz
They stared at each other, fired up, ablaze, and he groaned, surprised when she stepped out of his arms and blew out a fast, frustrated breath.
Then his phone rang.
“Look. I’ll be back by six. Let’s have dinner and talk.”
“Talk?”
She walked away, heat practically radiating off her, as he answered his phone.
“KELLAN!” his dad boomed. “Where the hell are you?”
“On my way,” he said sadly, shrugging into his coat. He ran back to the counter and grabbed a bag of beef jerky, two bananas, and in the fridge he found some cheese sticks.
Breakfast of champions.
“See you in ten, Dad.”
He ended the call.
Rachel was pouring herself a second cup of coffee. As Cally rubbed against her ankles, she batted her eyelashes at Kell and said, “Ready for a day dealing with big wood?”
He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shoved on his hat.
“You’re killing me.”
Joyful laughter, full of promises and the future, sent him off to work to deal with big wood.
And big questions.
The drive to the Luview Tree Service office was easy, because it was home.
Dean and Deanna had a large three-bay garage behind the house, with their work trucks, a cherry picker, multiple stump grinders and chippers of varying sizes, and more chainsaws than Kell could count.
The office was upstairs, about the size of Kell’s apartment, and held filing cabinets with records going back sixty years.
“Kellan!” Dean boomed as Kell walked in eating a banana, trying to get the food in him long before he had to climb anything. “How are you?”
“Good.”
“Anything new?”
“Rachel spent the night.”
His dad dropped the stapler in his hand.
“Well, now, that is new.”
“Mom around?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. I don’t want her to know.”
“We’ve never pried into your sex life before, son. Not about to start now.”
“We didn’t have sex.”
“Okaaaaay.”
“This is more about my love life than my sex life.”
“Rachel’s a nice young woman. You’d do well to explore this with her.”
‘“She ripped my heart out five years ago, Dad.”
“Did she?”
“You know the story!”
“Oh, I know the story. But are you sure? Deanna’s said for years she didn’t think Rachel was part of it all. Maybe she was right.”
“I’m starting to think that way, too,” Kell confessed, the words a relief to say.
“Nothing wrong with changing your mind.”
“If I’m wrong, it’s wrong to change my mind. What if she’s just flirting with me to get me to help her close the deal with Lucinda and Boyce?”
“Do you really think that’s the case?”
Deep inside, he did a quick inventory.
“No. My gut says this is all real. She was asleep in her car behind Bilbee’s last night, and I invited her up.”
“She got that drunk? Maybe there are other issues to worry about with her.”
“No. Hah,” Kell said with a laugh. “She was using the good internet to watch a Nordic noir show.”
Dean’s guffaw made Kell smile. “Sounds like she’s tailor made for you. Any woman who willingly watches that crap is going to be a rare find.”
“DAD!”
Dean grabbed a set of keys. “Let's go. Allen’s already on his way, and we have Ray and Jared helping.”
Long days like this one were the kind that made Kell feel like all his muscles were detached from his body, wrung like someone was squeezing all the blood out of them, then left out in the sun to dry.
For the next eleven hours, all he did was in service of wood.
Rachel wasn’t wrong when she made that crack, just… a different kind of wood.
Sunday River was a ski resort and tree removal was an important skill.
Anything that might hurt skiers had to be removed, but the trails couldn’t be taken out of operation easily, especially in early February during a season without as much snow as usual.
Money had to be made when the weather cooperated, though snow-making machines made a huge difference.
By the time he was done, back at the office, and climbing into his truck, it was too late to hit the post office. Too late to think about anything but going home, showering, and seeing Rachel.
All day, he’d either thought about the physics of trees or chatted with his dad about trees, so the ten minute drive from his childhood home to his own apartment was the first fertile ground for rekindling what had started this morning.
Hopefully, Rachel had spent a lovely day getting her affairs in order and resting a bit, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d changed her mind and just worked, gone back to her trailer, and he would come home to an empty place.
Even Calamine hadn’t come along with him today.
Fickle females.
As he opened his front door, though, the sight before him was truly the very last thing he expected.
Not the smell of falafel, which was tantalizing, nor the sight of Rachel, which made his heart leap as she sat on the couch, engrossed in a library book, Cally at her feet.
It was his desk.
What had she done to his desk?
“Uh,” was all he could manage, agog at the sight of, well… the surface.
The desk had an actual surface.
What had been giant, leaning towers of papers and binders was now a series of neatly lined up rectangles.
A Love You Coffee mug held pens and highlighters that had been scattered everywhere.
On the bulletin board above the desk, she had pinned a calendar she must have found buried deep in the mess, as well as some envelopes at an angle.
A roll of stamps hung from a long pushpin, in sight and easy to access.