Chapter 12 - Craig
I fiddled with my new pen during the brief lull between the morning rush and the lunchtime shoppers.
“What’s that?” Harrison asked as he stepped behind the counter. “A fancy pen?”
I passed it over for him to see. “One of Randy’s.”
“Nice,” he replied with a nod. Then he handed it back. “Good craftsmanship. When did you get it?”
“Over the weekend. Remember that art market I said my friend was dragging me to?”
“Yeah?”
“He had a booth there.”
“I bet that made you happy.”
I smiled. “He had this bowl on display. The tree grew on the side of a mountain, and there was so much tension in the grain. But he somehow managed to keep the pith without it checking.”
He chuckled. “Only people who regularly work with wood would recognize how hard that is.”
I nodded. “Even he said there was luck to it.”
“I imagine.” He paused. “So why did you get a pen?”
My face warmed. “I asked him what he did with the scraps he buys. He said he makes pens and other small things.” I paused. “This one was from one of the pieces I saved for him.”
There was a beat of silence, then, “You should leave it at home.”
I blinked and turned to him. “Why?”
He chuckled. “You haven’t worked retail before.
Pens go missing all the time, no matter how careful you are.
You could set it on the counter, only to have a customer use it and walk off with it.
You could drop it somewhere. I get the sentiment, but that pen is special.
So keep it safe at home and use the ones with our logo here. ”
I swallowed and nodded. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Hell,” he continued. “I’ll man the counter if you want to take it right to your truck.”
Part of me didn’t want to let the pen out of my sight, but his advice was solid. “Yeah… I think that’s a good idea.”
He reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, just think. He remembers which scraps you set aside for him.”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
I pushed off from the counter. “I’ll be right back.”
I ran my thumb over the wood barrel of the pen as I strode out to where I’d parked—trying to memorize how it felt under my skin. It was smooth, almost like glass. Not a single dip in the finish or hint of the swirling pattern I could see in the grain.
I set the pen on my truck’s instrument panel so that it wasn’t as visible to passersby, and better protected from the sun. Then I trudged back to the showroom.
Harrison was pushing the broom, and there wasn’t much else for me to do, so I decided to sort my scrap collection.
I’d limited myself to only keeping ten pieces—and hoping that Randy would think that was a more acceptable amount. But that meant that I often had to decide whether a new find was better than an old one.
He’d told me that he’d likely be in that week. Unless he decided to come in when I wasn’t working, that meant that I needed to make sure that I was happy with my selection.
I pulled the bin from under the counter and frowned. On top was a piece that I definitely hadn’t selected—and was way larger than a scrap.
“Assholes,” I muttered.
“What’s up?” Harrison asked, looking up from where he was sweeping.
“Ah, somebody in the back just fucking with me,” I grumbled. “They put trash in my bin. Just look at this.”
Harrison leaned the broom against a stack of live-edge planks and sauntered over.
I handed him the offending offcut.
He looked at it, turning it over in his hands. “It’s a nice piece.”
“It’s trash! It’s literally riddled with bug holes!”
He chuckled. “It’s not trash. Whoever put that in there wants to see you get laid. That piece is worth its weight in gold to a man like Randy.”
“How is some half-eaten chunk worth anything?”
His chuckle turned to a laugh. “Cast this with resin, and he’s got something that combines wood with pops of color in a natural way. It’s already been through a kiln, so he doesn’t even need to worry that there might be live bugs in there.”
I studied it again as he handed it back. “You’re not fucking with me, too? Randy will really want this?”
He shrugged. “I mean… he might like or reject any piece. But it’s not garbage. If he doesn’t buy it, then somebody else will, and quickly.”
I side-eyed him, but decided that I could at least let it all play out. I set it aside to keep and went through the rest of the scraps I’d selected.
“So,” Harrison asked once he’d put the broom up. “Next time you see him… gonna ask him out?”
I gave him a tight smile. “I want to… Everything in me is screaming to make my intentions clear. But…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Something Oscar said keeps replaying in my mind.”
“Hmm?”
“He told me that Randy has been single for a long time, and that it changes people. Being single becomes safe.” I sighed. “Rushing would just get me rejected. I think I need to show him I can be a safe option too.”
“Ouch. Sounds like a damned if you do, damned if you don’t scenario.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but if time is what he needs, then that’s what I’ll give him.”
“And if time isn’t enough?”
I frowned. “I don’t want to think about that. But if his choice is still single, then I’ll respect it.”
“Good call.”
“Craig!”
I turned to see Emmett standing in the door that separated the showroom from the admin area. “Yeah?”
“Come on up to my office.”
“Sure.” I put the bin back underneath the counter, then strolled upstairs to his office.
“Have a seat,” he said as he rounded his desk.
“Everything ok?” I asked.
He laughed. “We’re good. But we need to discuss those additional duties we hired you for.”
I let out a relieved chuckle. “Oh… yeah.”
He nodded and turned to his computer. “We’ll start getting more calls next month, but our first appointments are for next week. I’ll have you go out with Miguel for a few weeks to get a handle on how we do things.”
What if Randy comes in next week instead, and I’m not here?
“Next week?” I tried to hide my worried tone, but he caught it anyway.
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
I shook my head. “No, it shouldn’t be.”
One of his eyebrows went up, but he didn’t comment on my hesitation. He turned back to his computer. “You’ll mostly be out on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, though there might be an occasional Friday.”
I nodded. “Understood.”
“You can use a company truck or your own at your discretion once you’re done with Miguel. I prefer you use one of ours if you think you can make it back here before the end of the day, but I’d rather you have the option to head straight home once done rather than rush to get back here.”
“Makes sense.”
“Just remember to track your miles if you use your own truck.”
“Got it.”
“I assume you’ve still got a good pair of boots?”
I laughed. “Of course.”
“Good. The forest management guys are going to start going out soon to help plan winter reductions. We’ll get the call after they’ve gone out to see what we might be interested in.
You know what’s good, so don’t let people talk you into taking anything that should go to firewood or the chipper.
We can recommend a service to bring down the trees, but the forest guys around here tend to have their own teams for that.
They’re good about cutting things properly as long as they know which trees we’ll take. ”
I nodded. “Anything else?”
“We don’t skid if we can help it, and we charge if we have to.
Luckily, unless you’re dealing with somebody new, most know that.
There are a few communities where they share a landing.
It makes jobs we might otherwise pass on more likely to get us to take the wood.
A handful of trees in buttfuck nowhere might not be worth our time, but if a bunch of neighbors coordinate it’s a better prospect, and the experienced ones know it. ”
“I assume Miguel will let me know about all the nuances?”
“Yep.”
“Got it.”
He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “I hired ya cause you’ve got the experience to know what the fuck you’re doing out there. You’ve gotten a taste of what we move, so I expect you to know what’s worth our time.”
I swallowed. “Understood.”
“Lastly, keep an eye on the kiln schedule. It doesn’t matter as much when we’re buying, but for people like your Randy, their wood needs to go in at a particular time to hit their pickup dates. Don’t go promising delivery windows that we can’t keep ‘cause the kiln is full.”
My breath caught. My Randy…
He smirked. “I knew that would get ya. Did you hear the rest of what I said?”
I blinked, then chuckled. “Yeah. It’s my ass if I promise wood will be ready when there isn’t enough room in the kiln to make it happen.”
He grinned. “Good man. Head back on down. Once Miguel confirms the appointments for next week, he’ll let you know what days to plan for.”
“Got it,” I replied as I stood.
I was halfway down the stairs when something he said hit me. …people like your Randy, their wood needs to go in at a particular time…
I clung to the stairwell as the full meaning of that line sank in.
He wasn’t just teasing me about Randy; he was telling me that I’d be giving him an estimate for processing.
It meant that I’d be walking his land, looking at his trees. And as involved as he seemed, he’d likely be right beside me.