Chapter Two
Rork
Plumeria remained one of my biggest sellers at the farmstand.
I kept some of the fully grown ones near so that people could see the blooms. They were one of the easiest and most beautiful plants in my opinion.
They overwintered in the garage because it got too cold in winter to leave them out year-round.
Growing plants and all kinds of gardening was my thing, and I used those talents to make money. Not what Craven earned at his security job, and certainly not the income Flint pulled in with his genius investing, but I did my part.
Plus, I kept things running at home. If I charged what that job was worth, no one could afford me.
Pinks and blues scattered across the early morning sky, reminding me of cotton candy my parents used to buy me at the fall fair. The scents of vanilla and sugar tickled my memory.
Each of us in the pack kept our own hours. Craven worked nights and came in from work just as I was setting up breakfast, which was his dinner. Flint worked all kinds of hours, but we tried to come together for a meal when we could and to have our monthly budget meetings. Those were super fun.
I hung the baskets of plant babies along the hang-over roof of my farmstand.
Our land abutted the highway; our home tucked back out of sight of passers-by.
I ran the stand at the end of the driveway on an honor system when I wasn’t available, which had never failed us. People often overpaid, in fact.
After testing the cash box to make sure it was locked, I returned to the house where I had several quiches in the oven to freeze for later.
With winter around the corner, we liked to be prepared for anything.
We’d been snowed in one year and couldn’t leave for a week.
A few coolers on the back porch kept everything from the freezers nice and solid.
In my dreams, I was prepared for our omega. Having things ready for her heat and taking care of her in every way.
Seemed silly since we’d never met her. I still hoped.
“Hey, Rork!” someone called from a distance.
I turned to see a car stopping in front. “Laura, it’s good to see you. How are you today?”
Laura had a farmstand of her own. She specialized in sourdough goodies of all kinds. I taught her how to care for plants, and she shared some of her starter with me. We kept each other’s secrets of success in business.
Laura had her bad days and good ones, same as anyone else.
Her husband died a few years back, and it took her a while to remember who she was without being a wife.
He wasn’t the kindest man, so she had a lot of behaviors to shed and self-belief to recover.
I was proud of her and made sure to tell her.
“I’m fantastic. Made croissant sourdough loaves. They sold out in one hour. All twenty.”
My mouth watered at the thought of what a croissant loaf entailed. “Damn! That’s great, Laura. Raking that money in.”
She didn’t need it. As mean as her husband had been, he’d left her oodles of life insurance and no debt. He’d been good about saving for retirement then passed unexpectedly. But her skills gave her so much more than money.
Reaching over, she pulled out a loaf, wrapped in parchment and tied with a string. “I saved one for you!”
“You are the best. How about a trade? Pick a plant.”
She got out and was scanned my offerings then turned her attention to me. “You should sell some of your fresh vegetables as well. Those would make a killing. They are much better than the market carries. I end up buying frozen most of the time.”
I had thought about selling my vegetables at the farmstand but ended up canning or dehydrating them for storage. We had enough stored for years.
“Do you really think so? I picked a ton of cherries and peaches yesterday. They are all on my counter, waiting for me to do something with them.”
“Would you consider a trade of peaches for the loaf of bread? My porch is already overrun with plants, thanks to you.”
“Yes! Give me two minutes.”
Laura didn’t come to my house. I went to hers the few times we cooked together. She said she respected the pack’s boundaries, but we hadn’t really put up any. Perhaps something left over from her husband’s rules. I didn’t ask.
I gave Laura a basketful of peaches and cherries, and she promised me a cherry clafouti since one loaf wasn’t a fair exchange. Her words, not mine.
When I got back to the house, I found Craven coming out of his bedroom and Flint lurking, nursing a huge vat of coffee.
“Everything okay?” Craven asked, ruffling his hair.
“Yeah. Laura suggested selling some of my fruits and vegetables from the garden at the stand. I’m thinking about it. Why are you still up?”
Craven sighed. “I tossed and turned entirely too much. Decided to get up and let the wolf run. He’s on edge.”
“And you?” I pointed my question at Flint. Usually, he was still asleep or in his office by now.
“It was a third-cup-of-coffee kind of day.”
“Fair enough.”
My wolf had been more antsy lately as well, but I let him out daily to curb his nerves. The real reason all of us were stagnant and our wolves needed to run more, lay unspoken.
We were an incomplete pack without an omega. A center. She would ground us and our animals, and our lives would revolve around her.
We were planets with no star to orbit.
Fate would find a way. I had to believe that.