Page 36 of The Leaving Kind
“She’s precious, though. I can’t help spoiling her.”
Jorge arrived, delivery slips were printed, and the dog received all due attention, including a smile and pat from Jorge, who knelt beside her blankets and cupped her jaw for a second, before everyone left.
“You want a dog if no one turns up to claim her?” Cam asked as he and Jorge walked toward the yard.
“No.” A hint of a smile played about his lips. Then, as if he and the smile had reached an agreement, Jorge grinned in Cam’s direction before jerking his chin toward the backhoe. He held up the slips in the order they’d agreed upon, and that was that.
The first delivery was to an older gentleman down past Bushkill. Cam had no sooner dumped the gravel at the end of the driveway, when the guy asked, “I forgot to ask on the phone. Can you spread the gravel?”
“We usually only deliver, sir.” Cam scanned the yard. “Where did you want it? Along that path?” If threadbare could be used to describe a gravel walkway, it would apply here. The stones were mostly embedded in the dirt and clumped with weeds.
“To the front door, yes,” the elderly man said.
Cam checked the docket. His name was Fincher. “Well, Mr. Fincher. I could quote you a rate for it.” He only had three other deliveries. If no more came in, he could spread the gravel before he stopped by Victor’s to dig the rest of those holes. Wasn’t too hot a day.
“Oh, if you could, please.”
Half an hour later, Cam left the old man with an estimate scrawled on the back of his delivery slip. Once on the road back to the farm, he dialed Luisa’s number.
“What’s up?” she answered.
“Hey, so if customers want me to spread the gravel or give them quotes for other jobs, do you want me to ...” He wasn’t sure what he was asking. “Would that fit under what you pay me? I mean, I’m not working all the hours you pay me for now, but—”
“We don’t offer those services.”
“Yeah, I know, but people keep asking me if we do, and I have the time. I was thinking it could be extra revenue for you, you know?” Also, it felt wrong not to pull Luisa into the loop.
“If you want to spread someone’s gravel and I don’t need you here, you go ahead and do it.”
“How much do you think I should charge?”
“Whatever you think is a fair rate for your labor. It’s your time, Cameron.”
“But it’s your time too.”
“And I barely have enough work for you as it is. Do you like spreading gravel?”
“It’s a job.” He’d rather spread gravel than look for odd jobs around the tree farm, like counting the trees or restacking pots. Sitting by a phone that rarely rang.
“How about the extra money?”
“I do have some vet bills to cover.”
“There you go, then.” Luisa’s voice lilted as though she were smiling.
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“I do not mind. I would pay you more. You and Jorge both, but—”
“Now, now, let’s not start on that. I accepted the job you offered, remember?” Thirty-one hours a week delivering trees and mulch; one hour under the limit where Luisa would have to pay extra taxes and offer him benefits. Back before the big box store had opened, he’d worked overtime for cash. Over winter, he’d found work driving a plow and helped out with his friends’ various small businesses. Holding market stalls and cleaning kitchens. Moving shit.
His expenses were few, so Cam didn’t mind not making a lot of money. As long as he could afford to eat and put a little away for a car he didn’t need at the moment, he was good.
He’d worried about Luisa, though. She and her husband had built this business from two acres of Christmas trees. Shepard’s was an institution. Seemed like people cared more about low prices on imported shrubbery than supporting a local endeavor, though, which was why, in general, people sucked. People Cam wasn’t friends with, anyway.
Also, this was why, despite the everlasting sting of embarrassment, Cam held a thread, buried deeply, of gratitude for the woman who had duped and dumped him. He wasn’t cut out to run his own business. Not when it came to dealing with the sorts of decisions Luisa had faced.
Much better to dig holes and spread gravel.