Page 23 of Burke (The Haven #2)

“And I guess the property line didn’t include it, huh ?” Burke asked, still smiling.

Timber turned to him and laughed. “No, and that’s another thing we need to do. Get that new addition fenced.”

“It’s not fenced?”

“Not completely. One section where we need to add in fencing will cut it off from his land,” Timber explained, “and will join it up to ours.”

“Sounds good,” Burke replied. “In the meantime, let’s just keep things moving forward, and we’ll deal with the additional fencing and the machine shop too.”

Storage for the equipment was the conversation at dinnertime, and everybody had bits and pieces to suggest. There was consensus on one good solid location, but that shop would need a solid floor, and a solid floor meant concrete.

Slabs of wood for a floor would deteriorate over time.

Concrete was the best, but that would mean bringing out framers, getting it framed up, and bringing out a cement truck.

Shirley added her two bits worth as well.

“I think the biggest issue is the fact that this is an awful lot of equipment, and it’s very important to keep it safe, so if you have a location in mind, one consideration is whether or not it’s close enough that we could put a water line to it.

I can’t imagine any scenario where you wouldn’t need water in the machine shop.

So that would make it a top priority to get accomplished faster. ”

Timber sighed as he looked over at her. “That’s the thing. We have an awful lot of projects deemed as top priorities.”

She smiled and nodded. “Did you get the whiteboards?”

“I did, as a matter of fact,” Timber declared. “And I’m starting to feel as if I really could benefit from seeing that visual project list myself.”

“Yep,” she agreed, “and you will need something else.” With that, she handed him a recorder.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“I need to get access to the most information I can. It’s a matter of your sitting down and talking to me, like a brain dump onto this recorder of every plan you have for this place. Then I’ll send it to my phone and start putting everything up on the whiteboard.”

He frowned at the recorder. “I didn’t even think about that,” he muttered.

“This just happens to be one of the easiest ways for information to move from person to person,” she stated, with a shrug.

“And this way requires the least amount of time for you. So, grab a coffee, sit down on the porch, and let’s start recording.

Actually I would highly suggest we do this as a group, so we can keep track of what’s happening for everybody. ”

He looked over at her and frowned. “The coffee sounds good, but somebody promised me cinnamon buns.”

“Yeah,… well, somebody promised me whiteboards too,” she countered.

“I got the whiteboards,” he protested.

“And I got the cinnamon buns.” She smiled broadly.

At that, Toby came over with a huge tray of still-warm cinnamon buns.

Immediately silence filled the room, as everybody just sniffed the air.

With a heartfelt sigh, Timber whispered, “Oh, this is freaking perfect.” He started to reach for one, only to have Dwight hand him a plate.

“Let’s not be complete Neanderthals. You’ll have icing all over your hands and everything else if you don’t use a plate.” He quickly served up a round of cinnamon buns to everyone gathered here.

Burke watched as everybody eyed the remaining cinnamon buns, realizing they didn’t have to rush; there would be at least another one for each of them, and he smiled over at Shirley. “You done good.”

She beamed. “It’s a simple-enough thing,” she admitted, “and it does seem to make people happy.”

“It might be simple to you, but it’s quite a morale booster here,” Dwight declared, as he joined them, carrying a cup of coffee and his own cinnamon bun.

She looked back at him and smiled. “You do a great job with the meals.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m not a good hand at baking fancy stuff.”

“That’s hardly fancy,” she protested. “It’s just cinnamon buns.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he pointed out. “On the other hand, I’m pretty good at making bread.”

“Oh, there’s a lot to be said for homemade bread,” she stated, with a happy sigh. “I haven’t made bread in a very long time.”

“If you want to start some in the morning, we can get going on that too,” he suggested, with a smile.

“Do you happen to have a sourdough starter?” she asked.

“I do,” he replied, “but I just started it a few days ago. In fact, you had sourdough-starter flapjacks for breakfast.”

“That’s what I wondered,” she said with a nod. “They did have that sourdough-y taste.”

“Yeah, that was them,” Dwight confirmed. “So, as of tomorrow there’s sourdough bread—or the next day.”

She nodded. “I guess out here in the heat, it’s hard to imagine the time frame.”

“I’ll give it a shot tomorrow,” he replied, “or at least that is the plan. However, things are kind of busy, so if you feel like getting up and getting something started, it’s all yours. But don’t forget that you’ll be working on that whiteboard all day too.”

“Yes.” She rubbed her hands together with glee. “I’ll have to get out there and help muck too. An awful lot of things to be done.”

He just smiled as she looked around, trying to figure out how that would all come together. When her phone buzzed against her leg, she hesitated, looked down, then immediately put it away again.

Burke looked over at her. “Silvia again?”

She shrugged and then nodded. “Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not easy to keep ignoring her.”

“And yet—”

“I know. I know,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “I don’t really have any way of dealing with her except to try to keep hiding,” she admitted, with a snort.

“And hiding is okay too,” he murmured.

“Is it?” she asked, giving him an odd look. “It feels like cheating.”

Surprised, Timber glared at her. “No, it’s not,” he stated.

“There’s a time for offense, and there’s a time for defense.

You are in retreat mode right now, and, until we have answers and a way forward, that’s where you should stay.

Besides, you convinced me that I really need these whiteboards, so I don’t dare let you run off now. ”

She laughed. “I’m grateful to have a way to be useful,” she shared, “because I was feeling very much like a charity case, and that’s not what I want to be.”

“Charity or not, everybody needs a haven once in a while,” Timber declared, “and that’s what we are, a haven.”

“Thank you,” she said, with all sincerity.

And then she looked at the recorder in his hand and began, “Now, tell me specifically what it is that you need done at the bunkhouse.” When he looked at her, she flipped the switch on the recorder in his hand and added, “I’m starting with that because I’m thinking it might have the least amount of work to be done. ”

Some of the men laughed. “You might be thinking that, but you would be thinking wrong. The bunkhouse needs a fair bit.”

“Sure,” she conceded, “but I’m not sure it’s as much as a lot of the other places, so let’s get started.”

The next three hours consisted of a lively back-and-forth discussion on to-do projects. When she could see that Timber was getting fed up, she took the recorder from him and suggested, “I’ll get started with this.”

“Okay,” he said. “You think you’ve got something there we can work with?”

“I’ve definitely got something I can work with,” she stated, with a smile. “The question is how much more I will need to hassle you about?”

“A lot,” he muttered, with a groan. “I saw that one coming from a mile away.”