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Moving to the front of the vehicle, I open the oversized center console and pull out my laptop and charging cables. I need money and the only way for me to get it is to complete the jobs I have lined up. Popping the lid open, I look over the device, and it seems like the only thing fully unharmed from the wreck.
Thank all of the shiny gods in the universe. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost this thing.
The repairs on this beast aren’t going to be cheap — if it can even be fixed — but while we’re not destitute, I don’t have enough right now to pay for the expense of getting the camper road-worthy or replacing it.
“Here you go,” Harlan says after stepping into the camper behind me and dropping some boxes on the counter to the left of the door.
I nod toward my stuffed duffel, and say, “I think I got it all in there. Thank you though.”
He nods. “You’re welcome.”
After slinging the strap of my duffel over his shoulder, he leaves the space and I follow him back into the garage bay clutching my laptop to my chest.
Boone and Jem are still waiting outside of the garage, but Jem’s holding a disposable coffee cup now, and Boone’s got his arm slung over her shoulder.
Jem eyes the laptop in my arms, and asks, “Work?”
I nod.
“What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Website design. I work with clients to design and maintain websites.”
“Oh my god. Shut the fuck up,” she exclaims.
My head jerks at her yell, and I say, “Okay.” The word drawn out from my confusion.
“This is perfect. I’ve been having the worst time getting the café’s website up and running — that’s what I do, I own the town café — and I’ve been trying to build it, make it pretty and set up online ordering, but for some stupid reason, I can’t get it to work. Would you be able to take a look at it for me? I’d obviously pay you for your time.”
Not in a position to turn down money, I say, “Uh. Yeah. Sure. I guess.”
She smacks her thigh. “Perfect. I’ll swing by with coffee tomorrow, and I can show you what I want done and then we can figure out how to fix that whole mess.”
“I don’t drink coffee, but I’m happy to help with the website.”
Jem gasps theatrically. “You don’t drink coffee? What? How?”
I shrug. “Just never like the taste of it.”
“What about tea?”
“You mean watered-down tree bark?” I joke.
“Oh lord. You’re seriously jeopardizing our friendship here, girly.”
Friendship. The word should make me nervous, but instead a warm feeling takes up residence in my chest, and I smile at Jem. “Just means there’s more for you.”
“You’re a single mom, traveling with your infant daughter, and you’re telling me you don’t drink any type of caffeine?”
“I think she prefers energy drinks,” Harlan offers next to me.
“You drink that poison but don’t like the taste of coffee or tea?” Jem is yelling now, but in an over-the-top funny way.
“Yeah. But I don’t drink them often, since I’m still nursing. I shouldn’t have a lot of caffeine, so it’s really only when I absolutely need it.”
Jem sniffs dramatically. “I guess that’s okay then.”
The urge to chuckle at her theatrics rises, but I smother it.
