Chapter Six
Dainley
Dainley had never done much with carpentry, but like most dwarves he was good with his hands and eager to do a job well.
He did glare at Windemere some, for dragging this sweet lady into building a huge stage when she had her own shop to worry about.
For weeks, he followed Lucy's lead, bringing her plans for the new revolving stage to life.
The night of the read through, he had watched her draw the schematics in her notebook.
They were sketched in loose, almost choppy lines, but it was remarkably easy to tell where she meant to reuse the existing stage and what would have to be built new.
The stage was almost done, Lucy had been working on it on every day off and every night for a few hours for three weeks straight.
Dainley had been at her side for every one of those nights, helping her measure and cut lumber, assemble the steel bearings and tracks the smith brought in, test the movement of the whole thing, and fix anything that wasn't smooth and quiet.
She had never made a single complaint, but Dainley knew it was wearing on her.
She had bags under her eyes that she tried to hide by singing the songs from Verifiable Deceptions that were by now hopelessly stuck in their heads.
Since the kiss a few days ago, it was getting harder to keep their hands off each other.
They didn't have the sawdust excuse anymore to brush their hands over each other's bodies, but Dainley didn't let that stop him from finding reasons to rub Lucy's shoulders on little breaks, or pat her waist when he passed her.
He was getting anxious to finish this stage rebuild so he could show Lucy a good time doing something else that involved tools and exertion and sweating.
This morning, the one day a week both their shops were closed, Lucy had planned to keep working on that damn stage some more. Dainley was waiting at the back door of the theater when she showed up, wearing her trademark flowing skirts and her waxed canvas apron.
Lucy greeted him with a surprised, but warm smile, "Morning, Dainley! Am I late? I usually beat you here."
"You're not late," he jutted his chin up, "and we're not doing this today."
Her smile faltered. "But…we're almost done. Just a little more tweaking and we can put the protective finish on it."
Dainley held up a hand. "Windemere's thing can wait today. You've been nonstop between your shop and this old box," he gave the door to the theater a light kick, "day and night for weeks, and it's time for a day off."
Lucy shifted her weight, and adjusted her heavy tool bag on her shoulder. Her tufted tail swished. "So…you beat me here to…tell me to go home?"
Dainley shook his head and chuckled. "We're dropping off your tools, and we're having some fun.
" He unlocked the theater door and held his hand out for her bag.
After some hesitation, Lucy handed it and her apron over, and let him lock her things up safely.
Dainley looked up at her, morning sun making her red fluff between her ears glow and her horns glint. "You like orc barbecue?"
Her own stomach beat her to an answer with a growl that Dainley honestly found impressive. She clutched her belly with wide eyes and laughed it off. Dainley leveled a stern glare, "And you skipped breakfast too." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval.
Despite towering over him, Lucy looked sheepish as she shrugged.
"I was going to make up for it at lunch.
I know it's Carsh." Carsh was the orcs' late spring feast, and was popular even outside the orc community in Port Florien.
For anyone who liked eating meat, the best food of the year was during Carsh.
"Hmph." Dainley took her hand and led her several blocks.
Her long fingers were warm in his grip and as strong as his own.
This wasn't quite how he meant to bring her on a date, but it was always best to strike while the iron was hot.
"I was planning on taking us to the Carsh cook-off later, but we can see if anyone's ready early. "
Lucy's horn ribbons furled and flashed as they walked, and the tiny bells jingled and clanged with each step. Dainley looked up at her, taking in her smile and letting it spread over his own face.
It was early yet for the orc cook-off. Wagons and platforms were set up all over the street for a few blocks, each with wood smokers and cook fires.
The smells of a dozen different cooked meats filled the air.
The first place they stopped, Dainely asked if they had any meat ready, and the orc women running it said no, but sold him some baked potatoes.
"And we better see you later," one of the orcs said. "Come get our Juicy Lucy."
Bursting with laughter, Lucy sputtered, "Your what?"
Dainley handed her a potato and smirked at the orc who'd spoken, "Her name's Lucy."
"Oh," she leaned with thick, olive green arms over her table. She gave Lucy the up and down look that Dainley couldn't blame her for, but his brows still pinched. "We'll see how juicy we can get this Lucy."
"All right, settle down," Dainely rolled his eyes at the orc woman and led a stammering Lucy away.
In the middle of the cook-off area was a little park—several statues of famous orcs interspersed with benches. Dainley led Lucy and they sat together, having baked potatoes for breakfast, loaded with butter and cheese.
Dainley waited a beat, then asked, "So how does a minotaur like yourself end up opening a shop and living in Potato Town?" Dainley arched a brow.
Lucy grimaced as if she'd bitten down on a piece of bone.
"Well, I'd been planning on leaving my job and opening a shop for some time.
My boss…kind of had it out for me. He fired me sooner than I was planning on quitting, so I didn't have as much saved up as I wanted.
The shelving I wanted to build was non-negotiable, so that meant I had to set up in a building that was cheaper to rent than what I'd originally had my eye on.
And I had to move fast, so, the building where I am, I got a deal from the owner.
It needed some repairs, and I agreed to do them myself in exchange for very cheap rent. "
Dainley frowned. She was the most cheerful, most competent person he'd ever met. "I can't imagine anyone having it out for you. What was your boss's problem?"
Lucy paused, one bite of cheesy potato halfway to her mouth.
"It doesn't really matter now. I'm out of there.
" She took her bite, swallowed it quickly, and deflected Dainley's next question, "What's driving me crazy is actually getting people in the damn door!
" It was the first time Dainley had heard her curse, not that he'd hold it against her.
"My old job was almost the center of town, thousands of people passing by it every day.
And before that, with my family's carpentry, we had a lot of regulars and word of mouth.
I never had to learn how to actually get new customers. "
There was something she wasn't saying, but Dainley didn't know how to ask about it. He ate a few more bites and asked, "So you were originally a carpenter?"
"Me, my mom, step-dad, and half-brothers."
"Your dad, not in the picture?"
"He died of bluetongue fever when I was little."
"Oh," Dainley nodded with a soft expression. "My parents were on a climbing trip in the Khamebor Caves and they fell down a shaft. I was raised by my uncles, Thorden and Lairen."
"I'm so sorry, Dainley. What are your uncles like?" Lucy's brows angled up over her sweet brown eyes.
"Thorden has a big laugh, and he's generous with it.
He'll make you feel like the funniest person alive.
Lairen is quiet, but sweet. He took to growing mushrooms when it was hard for him to do the typical gardening.
The first few years after my parents died were hard, but Lairen…
he helped me come around." Dainley finished his potato and wiped his hands, combing his beard for stray crumbs.
Lucy leaned back, settling into the bench and turning toward Dainley. "They sound wonderful. How was growing up with them?"
"Dwarf and elf culture, it's a solid mix. There's people who think those can't go together, the hard versus soft thing, but it seemed fine to me as a kid. Dwarf curries for dinner and elf tea cakes for dessert every night. And sometimes for breakfast," he winked.
Lucy lit up. "There's a tea cake bake-off in another week or two! My shop neighbor is a baker and it sounds like they go all in for that kind of thing. If you'd like to go."
Something warmed in his gut that wasn't potato.
"Yeah, I'd like that," he smiled. Arguably they were barely into their first date and she was already talking about a second.
He watched her for a minute, and it hit him that she had a good mix of hard and soft about her too, not unlike the way he'd grown up.
The Carsh cook-off was a major event for the orc community in Port Florien, but everyone was welcome.
More than the food, there were also games, singing and dancing, and orcs demonstrating feats of strength.
Dainley and Lucy had both been plucked from the crowd by a grizzled old orc showing off his grip strength.
The challenge involved manipulating horseshoes.
Dainley thought he had a strong grip, but this old orc humbled him by tying a horseshoe into a knot.
Neither Dainley nor Lucy had gotten farther than pulling their horseshoes into a more open shape, and they laughed and joined the stunned applause for the orc.
When they returned to the orc women they had bought baked potatoes from in the morning, they found a Juicy Lucy involved a thick hamburger patty filled with cheese. It was messy, but they both enjoyed it, and the orc women teased them the whole time.
The afternoon wound down, and Lucy sighed, patting her stomach full of ribs, potatoes, and Juicy Lucy. They were both full enough to skip dinner.
"I think it's time for somewhere quiet. What do you think, Lucy?" Dainley kept his tone even, but his nerves were jumping at what he wanted to ask.
"I think you're right." She tilted her head, the ribbons from one horn almost touching his shoulder.
Dainley straightened his vest. "My place or yours?"
Lucy hesitated, then asked with a wince, "Not to be, um…but how tall are your ceilings?"
He swept his eyes up and down her frame, pretending to assess but actually appreciating. "I got room for you, don't you worry."