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I let her lead the way and ironically Lauren is right at the door that leads from the staircase to her apartment into the shop and stares wide eyed at us both entering together.

“Good morning,” she says brightly, trying to conceal her obvious interest.

“Good morning,” both I and Bambi repeat back.

Bambi ducks her head and grips the end of her ponytail as she passes Lauren, her red cheeks revealing most of what she wanted to keep private. She’s far too easy to read and I bet my boat she breaks and tells someone about us before I do.

I give Lauren a knowing grin as I pass her into the shop, following dutifully behind Bambi. This is going to be so much fun. Teasing Bambi is my favorite pastime, and she just elevated it to Olympic status.

~

Throughout the day I take the slow times to do some researchon a few of the items on my list. I’ve decided we are in fact going to be getting a night vision camera baby monitor, along with those fancy sock things that track their heart rate and movement.

I considered buying a crib online and having it delivered but thought better of it when I realized that, one it wouldn’t match any of Bambi’s other furniture and then, two none of her other furniture is new and she would probably want to find an antique or used one anyway. So instead, I started making a list of places we could go to find such a crib.

I’m just starting my search for baby names when Bambi appears at my side. She stands next to the armchair I’ve reclined in and places a hand on my shoulder smiling at me.

“Hey, would you mind getting the toolbox from the garage? Lauren is rearranging the art wall and needs it.”

The art wall is the wall directly behind the register and the small love seat next to it. Some of the younger customers like to take selfies and photos in front of it with their new books and post them on social media.

Not everyone in town is into the wholepost pictures of your entire life onlinething, but a lot of the younger generations, mine included, have nothing better to do in a small town so disconnected from the society of big cities. They need something to stay connected with the world outside Alaska.

The wall is directly across from the sitting area I’m currently occupying, and I notice Lauren removing frames and signs and setting them all out on the floor. I must have been really focused on my phone to not have noticed her doing that.

“Sure thing.”

I slip my phone into my pocket and head for the garage. I have to go outside and enter through a separate door to the one car garage. I think it was added on in like the eighties. The storeused to be a bank, and it most definitely didn’t have a garage or apartment upstairs when it was originally built.

I open the door which is unlocked_going to have to fix that, it’s going on my list of things to do before the baby arrives_and flick on the light. Inside the small garage is Bambi’s old car. A Saab from at least twenty years ago, that I despise and wish she would get rid of and replace with something newer and more reliable. Every time I bring it up though she argues with me that it’s perfectlyfunctional.

Functional and reliable are two different things in my book and I’m going to need to find a way to convince Bambi of that too.

There isn’t much else in the garage, which is why I suppose she hadn’t bothered with locking it. No one would steal her beat up old car and a box of extension cords.

I spot the small red toolbox on a practically empty shelf on the opposite side of the car. Rounding it I notice a stain on the concrete floor running beneath the hood of the car. Kneeling I dab a finger in it checking if it’s wet or dry. Wet. Which means her car has a leak. Sniffing it, it smells like oil.

Well, that just moved up to the top of my to do list. If I could get away with junking the car and getting her a new one_or even better driving her around myself_I would in a heartbeat. But I know my Bambi, she would be furious. So that leaves fixing the damn thing.

I grab the toolbox, which is not surprisingly light, and return inside with it. Making an excuse after ensuring they actually have the tools needed, I return to the garage and get to work figuring out what’s wrong with her car.

Two hours later I find myself inspecting the aisles at the auto parts shop. While I was under the hood, I saw a few other things that could use repairing and now have a decent size list and her car sitting in multiple pieces in her garage.

Thankfully she doesn’t use it often during the warmer months_and by warmer months I mean months with one inch or less of snow_so she won’t notice it for a while.

I turn down the next aisle and almost run into someone.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter, not really paying attention to the guy, until he talks back.

“Hey Warren. I heard you were back in town.”

I look up from my cart of parts to find Jim, my ex-coworker and fisherman, standing in front of me. Jim’s a nice guy, works hard to support his family, and never judged me because of my arm long arrest record.

“Hey Jim. How have you been? The family good?”

“Oh, we’re doing alright,” he answers, scratching at the bushy dark beard on his chin.

Lots of the guys have thicker beards right now, not having shaved them for the spring and summer yet. Mine is far shorter since I’ve been mostly in warmer climates all winter.