Page 98 of The Leaving Kind

“I love you, Tereza.”

“Love you too, Victory.”

“What do you think?” Cam asked as he surveyed the two acres spread in front of him and Jorge. Honey sat between them, a third observer.

They’d have to excavate and level, which meant renting the appropriate equipment. A road would have to be brought down from Dingmans Turnpike. More equipment. More work. Permits too. The business of starting a business seemed only to get more complicated.

Cam pressed Pause on that thought spiral and indicated the flattest corner of the hilly, bumpy lot. “Should we build an office or buy a trailer and park it there?”

“Hmm.” Jorge turned a slow circle, and Cam followed him around. “When we clear this lot, we’ll have two fewer acres to keep up with,” Jorge said.

Cam laughed. “True that.”

As they had suspected, buying a parcel of land from the developer who’d made an offer on the tree farm had proven beyond their means. It had been Jorge who’d suggested they approach the owner of the six-acre lot they’d cleared and continued to maintain. The guy had a deal in place for the front four, and they had their choice of the back two parcels, or both of them if they wanted.

Cam wasn’t sure they needed two acres. Normally, he’d be all about the go-big-or-go-home idea, but in this instance, big equaled expensive and he was heartily tired of thinking about money. But it would be easier to acquire the land now than have to move later. The price scared him spitless, though. He’d done the research; it was fair. But the last time he’d gambled tens of thousands of dollars, he’d lost. This time? He didn’t have even have half the money he needed.

Breathe. In and out.

Jorge turned back to him.

Cam squinted against the light of the lowering sun before shading his eyes. “What do you think?”

“I’m down with it.”

“Okay.” Shit, shit, shit. “Okay.” Cam dropped his hand and sought solace in the rocky soil at his feet. The tufts of grass and weed he’d driven their ride-on over about ten days ago. “I need to talk to my brother.”

Jorge didn’t comment, but Cam could feel the weight of his gaze. Hear what he was holding back. Jorge could buy the property outright on his own and didn’t mind being the money guy. Cam needed it to be an even split, though. No loans between them. Just a straight partnership. They’d already started the paperwork, which cost money. Because of course it did.

“We can start with a trailer,” Jorge said, answering his earlier question. “Estefan knows a guy. It’s a piece of shit, but it’d cost us nothing. We could park it at the top, here.”

Jorge walked to the spot and Cam followed, Honey trotting behind. She was due to get her cast off in a week and probably wouldn’t miss it, but she walked so well with it now, she’d have to readjust her gait. Cam bent to ruffle her ears, and she pushed her head into his hand before veering off to nose her way through a dense clump of bracken.

“Behind this hill.” Jorge pointed back toward the road. “We should leave the slope at the front here. It’ll give us a natural barrier between us and whatever they build up front.”

“Good idea.” Cam narrowed his eyes at the hill and recalled an architecture documentary series he’d watched years ago. “We could eventually build into the side. Like one of those eco houses. Grow some grass over the roof.” Letting his imagination go made a nice change from stressing about money. “Extend a greenhouse out that way and put the plant nursery on the other side.”

Jorge took over. “Gravel lot in front for parking and getting the vehicles in and out. Shed for the equipment. Steel?”

Cam nodded.

Jorge continued. “With doors at each end, so we can drive through. Then the materials.”

“We can plant any trees we get from Luisa at the back.”

“A few up here, too, around the office building. It has to all look good. ’Specially the green house. We can sell a structure like that.”

“With all this mowing and building and landscaping, we won’t have time to deliver supplies.”

“We could keep that service for clients.”

“Then there’s the plowing and leaf service.”

“We’re going to be busy.” Jorge looked as though he might be smiling.

They were already busy. Cam felt as though he hadn’t sat down in a week. It’d been a couple of days since he’d last seen Victor, and nearly a week since he and Jorge had last managed an episode of Star Trek. Life was ... not what Cam had been expecting. Not now. Not here, at nearly fifty.

Busy did have one blissful side effect, however. He’d never slept so well—when he wasn’t fretting over money and responsibility.