Page 52 of Not Looking
Almost all their wood would be split and seasoned for firewood, but they let me take some interesting pieces. That was, as long as they got right of first refusal on anything I made from it.
It was a good deal for everybody. They could label those pieces as having come from the resort’s own trees, and that generally got premium pricing from the right buyers.
I spotted the flagging tape at the same time that Dale pointed.
My eyes traced the trunk up. At first, nothing stood out, but my gaze stopped where it split into a Y near the canopy. It was the perfect proportions for a few different potential projects.
“See something you like?” Simon asked as I continued to look.
“That crotch up there looks nice,” I replied. “I can use that. Have them give me a few feet below it.”
“What number is that one?” Dale asked.
Simon strode over and looked at a mark on the tree. “B thirteen.”
Dale made a mark on his clipboard. “B thirteen, save the crotch. Got it.”
We continued down the back trails from the hot springs, stopping periodically to review marked trees. Most were relatively uninteresting—better suited to the resort’s firewood pile than my workshop—but I was able to spot a handful of trees with interesting features that I could use.
It was just the way we all liked it. I didn’t have a bunch of wood in my drying shed that the resort had dibs on, and the number of pieces from their trees would be small enough to still command a premium price.
Eventually, we reached the parking lot and stopped by the barn.
“Ready to move onto the lakeside trees?” Simon asked as we chugged bottles of water.
I glanced up at the sky, which already had the orange tinge of afternoon. “Actually… can we push the lakeside to early next week?”
Simon cocked his head to one side. “I guess. Everything ok though? Normally, you like to get it all done in one day.”
I scratched the back of my head and sighed. “Yeah, just bad planning on my part. I didn’t realize how many more trees you’re going to take down this year, so I thought we’d be done by now.”
I paused. “I… kind of promised the new guy at the mill that I would come in this week, and he doesn’t work the Saturday shift. Means I’ve only got a couple hours left.”
“Did they special order something for you?” Simon asked.
“It’s… complicated.”
Dale chuckled. “Sounds like some lucky alpha finally caught your eye.”
“No,” I protested. “It’s…”
My words died on my lips.
I didn’tneedto go to the mill. I had enough scraps to make it through another art market. And the next one was still a couple weeks away—plenty of time to visit the mill and restock.
But I’d made a promise… to Craig.
Simon laughed, strode over, and flung an arm around my shoulders. “You’re blushing, man.”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. He’s just a flirt.”
He laughed again. “Seems to me like you’re flirting back. Especially if you’re rushing off just to see him.”
“No… I… You know I like the single life.”
Dale cleared his throat, then stepped closer. Sadness and seriousness swirled in his eyes. “I know you’ve been flying solo for a while, but is that what you really want?”
“It is what it is,” I tried.
