It had been about a week since my little creative time with flowers, and now all our chores were on time. Some significant changes had occurred. Let's just say men are highly motivated to make changes when they realize just how easily chores can lag.
First, paperwork. It was no longer just a task for Number One and Charles; now all ten Salvatores and other males handled it, meaning I could never have managed even a fraction of it. Then, they reorganized a few things and made things happen. For example, they dedicated two days a week to the culverts. This involved clearing them, observing how well the bog was draining, and mapping the forest to ensure water was flowing freely and no major hindrances existed.
Firewood was another area. Fortunately, there were still local boys eager to chop wood for money. As the first compensation from the whole incident began to come in, a portion of it was used to hire these local boys for woodwork, as well as some men for culvert work.
As for me, I had spent a week in the kitchen with Number Five. It had been quite an intense week. He remained very close to me, unlike Number One, who tended to push me aside and do things himself. However, I inspired Number Five, and I also had projects of my own.
It unfolded like this: I would give him ideas, or discuss some of my food concepts, and he would usually create something useful from them. For instance, I had this idea for a huge rolled meat log, made from separate meats all rolled together. Well, he took it a step further. Instead of just using a sheet of meat, he incorporated thick sauces and pieces of meat.
One version he made in the oven, then poured a thick, gelatin-rich broth over it, encasing it in jelly, creating a type of terrine. I had mentioned to him the jelly made from pig's head that was common in Finland and was a treat from my father. He improved upon it, using lots of decent fatty meat and good broth instead of pork pieces, and then it was sliced, perfect for sandwiches or other uses.
I had previously mentioned the rye bread that my sister and mother used to make. For us, bread was a bit of a curse, but he was creative. He used a specific flavor, made a thin dough into discs, and then used these discs as lids for his pot pies or meat casseroles. He was both creative and skilled.
Meanwhile, I was crafting sugar decorations, creating all sorts of flowers and designs. He was doing the same. Number Four had built a new cabinet in the back of the kitchen where my sugar creations were displayed, kept pristine and ready for future use.
It was rather amusing that the Salvatores had little experience with sugar work; it was a source of both jealousy and curiosity for them. They wanted to learn, but mastering sugar work wasn't something achievable in just a few hours. Since we were all quite busy with our own projects, there wasn't much time for lessons.
At that moment, I was sculpting petals for a flower, simultaneously discussing the shop with Number Five. This conversation often involved me venting about minor frustrations within my resistance organization, and he would either offer solutions or dismiss them as not his problem, often amused by my irritation.
I said to him, "Do you know how irritating it is to create lists for the bases? These lists show who will be where. It's not simple because I have to rearrange everything to keep as many people happy as possible."
Number Five grunted, currently shaving thin slices from a large roll of meat he had prepared earlier. "What do you mean, babe? How hard can it be? There are programs for that kind of thing, you know."
I explained, "Well, it's not that simple. For instance, when I make a list for Arizona's southern base, I have to consider so many factors. Typically, I create these lists for four weeks at a time. First, I need to gather all the candidates, check their schedules, and note any holiday requests. Then, I need to..." I stopped talking as I noticed Mariella and Number One entering the kitchen.
Mariella was wearing a denim dress and pumps, her hair styled. Damon, on the other hand, wore a simple T-shirt and yoga pants, suggesting he had either been to the gym or was on his way. He shot me a look of jealousy; he was feeling possessive and unhappy that I had spent the entire week with Number Five. Our nights had also been quite intense with Wulfe involved, leaving me with bruises in the mornings.
"Five, aren't you next on night shift for upstairs?" Number One asked in a neutral tone, though his expression was almost hostile as he glared at Number Five.
Five replied, "Yep, starting tonight. Sorry, babe, I'm going to be busy and won't have time to enjoy myself, as those little tyrants seem to demand some attention."
He smirked at me.
I smiled back and said, "Have fun. I'll be fine. I was thinking maybe watching movies, eating, reading, bathing—I'm not sure yet."
Mariella asked, "You were talking about lists and making them; what's so hard about those?"
She was curious. Number One walked next to me, right behind me, so his hot breath fanned my ear and cheek.
"One day, baby, I will make these too, and you will teach me. You are fucking talented already; I can see," he murmured darkly.
I said, "Practice. By doing this stuff over and over again, one gains skills, but it's not easy, and this is also kind of fiddly work. Mostly decorative, not much eating here."
I had a semi-solid form of my pink sugar solution and was using specialized tongs to shape it into a petal before it hardened too much. It was almost perfect, but I was just giving it finishing touches.
Number One said, "So care to explain what's so hard with those lists?"
I grunted as I got my petal ready and moved it next to the others, not yet making a flower as I needed a few smaller petals. However, I needed to make more sugar solution. Well, maybe I might continue tomorrow.
I said, "Well, as I said, in this particular case, this base has about 300 to 350 people. Around 200 of them are on missions, planning or executing. The rest are intelligence and maintenance staff. They are easy, but these guys in missions... I have never shown you our personnel files. There are, of course, their 'what if' forms, and then there are their working preferences, meaning what kind of work and where. Each of them had a 'might list' of 5 to 10 bases where they could operate, but they ranked them from best to least best options. So, this is one aspect I need to keep in mind: try to make as many happy as I can."
I took a breath and continued, "The next problem is one I'm keeping in mind, as it's sensitive and not written in personnel files. Essentially, there are individuals who simply cannot get along, no matter what. I can't place them on the same base, as it would incite conflict, and I'd prefer not to put them in the same state either."
Mariella looked confused and asked, "But they're adults. Surely they can work together. It can't be that difficult."
Number Five muttered, "Again, babe, not my issue. You deal with those drama queens. I'm not a desk jockey. Does Alaric know?"
I shook my head and said, "I know. I keep these unfits in my mind, without officially listing them anywhere. Therefore, I prefer to be the one making the lists, so I can ensure they aren't placed near each other. For example, I have Jaques W from France, though he moved to the States about 19 years ago. He lives in Oregon and wants to be stationed at Oregon bases one through five. He's a hell of a demolition expert and also a codebreaker. Then there's Peter G, originally from Germany, who moved to the States eight years ago and hates the French. He wants to be at Oregon bases three through seventeen. This means I absolutely cannot put Jaques and Peter on the same base. Peter would start calling him names, like 'Frenchy,' 'Prissy Pants,' or 'Mr. Lace Panties,' and Jaques would get angry. He'd start ranting about how he built his family's house and how he's not some German brute with no manners, and at least he can speak without sounding like a poorly mimicked Arnold Schwarzenegger. Neither of them would get any work done; they'd just fight, disturb others, and mess things up. So, I need to ensure I keep them separate. There's quite a list of these kinds of incompatible pairings, and this is the first thing I need to keep in mind as I start making these lists."
Number One was quiet, but Mariella giggled.
Number One then pressed closer, saying, "Well, baby, after this ends, at some point, you will share those unfit pairs, and we can create an entire system for making lists as we pack. We can all contribute to this."
Of course, he wanted to mess with everything, but I wasn't going to stress about it since we still had time. This was going to take its own time, and maybe Number One would forget about it. However, Wulfe then walked in. He looked haggard and tired, having just finished his night shifts, and now it was over for him as Number Five would take over.
Wulfe said, "Well, my unicorn, I will remember. I've already told Charles and Adam, so they know too. You won't be the only one making those lists; I have an idea for finding some suitable workers for that. There are a lot of good ones. As this ends, I'll tell the others, and we'll make plans then."
That was fine by me. It was just so typical in my life that males were always interfering with my life and my decisions. I guess this was family life.
Wulfe said tiredly, "I am so fucking glad that I am not on night duty. These past two nights have been more than enough. You see, Violet and Fiona are the loudest screamers, and it doesn't even take a wet diaper for their wailing to start. For some goddamn reason, I haven't figured out how, their screams are loud enough to wake up Evie, Lizzie, Suzie, Jace, and Alex too. They start crying because they get scared, and I usually don't even hear them when I'm dealing with the infants. Only when I leave do, I hear them. By the time I've gotten them to calm down and go back to sleep, their ruckus has woken up Sadie and the others, who are cranky and scared. It's not unusual to have wet accidents in their beds, meaning I need to change mattresses and everything. By the time I finally get them to sleep, the infants are awake again. It's a never-ending cycle."
I smiled, feeling a little overwhelmed but understanding the situation. Mariella's brood was downstairs for the same reason, and I had no idea if her kids faced similar issues to mine. As it stood, we really couldn't add more people to the night shifts since the days required more workers from early morning onward, so that was out of the question. I thought I might help out tonight if I stayed awake and noticed something.
But then Number One said, "For you, baby, my Mimi, I have a few plans tonight, so don't even think about focusing on the babies. Number Five can handle them."
There was a dark croon in his voice as his hands snuck around my waist, pulling me tightly to him. I could feel the hard bulge in his pants, and suddenly, a sharp, hot pain hit my neck as he bit into my pheromone glands, marking me again.
Mariella didn't seem bothered and almost looked relieved. I had no idea what they had done or how their kids were faring, but I now had one passionate, dominant, eager husband—one of fourteen—around me, arousing me and preparing me for some intense time. This specimen was not going to share me, not in a million years.
Damon then said to me, "Baby, my Mimi, my love, you know I'm on kitchen duty upstairs next week, and since you have time, you'll teach me some sugar work. Just the basics, nothing too fancy, but a start. I'm wickedly curious, and those are pretty damn impressive skills—I want to learn them too. So just so you know, you get to be the teacher once more."
I rolled my eyes. I hadn't yet logged much for the upcoming week since I usually waited until Saturday or Sunday to see what was left. I was kind of lazy and had this plan to go to one of my bedrooms, watch some old movies, eat treats, and just lounge, taking it easy. After all, I'd been pulling this pack along for quite some time, and now I wanted a bit of my own time.
I did have childcare duties next week, but the kids also had a doctor's appointment to see if they could return to daycare. To complicate matters, Damon and the other Salvatores had listed our next lot as daycare too—they were waiting for placements, which meant more kids to drive around and more reports to listen to. But for now, this was family time, despite all the complications and whatnot.
I told Damon, "Why don't you lend a hand with the kids tonight?"
I wanted some time to myself, and perhaps he could help find a solution.
"I mean, if things are so chaotic, maybe you could see where the sound is traveling to the middle kids and stop it, so no one needs to wake up. Perhaps some sort of sound-nullifying spell? It's difficult to investigate when I'm busy changing them all and have no time to figure out the problem, but surely you could pinpoint it." I kept my voice innocent, and I was actually making a valid point.
If things were so messed up that my whole brood woke up in the middle of the night, it wouldn't fare well in the long run, so it was paramount to ensure everyone got decent sleep.
Damon replied, "Fine, I will make sure the sound doesn't reach the others. Mariella, can you assist number five with the babies then?"
Mariella was silent and pondered, but she really had no other choice than to say yes, as Damon's tone had been firm enough. So, she nodded.
Oh, things were progressing pretty damn nicely, and this would give me a few lovely movie-filled nights all to myself. I could just lounge, eat, relax, and recharge my batteries so I could keep pulling this damn pack along. It seemed paramount that our family would work as smoothly as possible, so I needed to keep myself in good shape, both mentally and physically.
It was good to be an alpha female with a brain in her head, one who had no qualms about using her pack to care for the babies. There was no need for me to do everything myself, as I had others. This was a big lesson for me; from time to time, I did revert to my old habits of not asking or sharing, but right now, I was delegating like a pro, making life as grand as possible.