Jenna guffawed and twisted her neck in an attempt to stare up at him. “I beg your pardon? Did you also develop short-term memory loss? That was averybizarre joke—”
Jon brought them to a stop right outside the glass paneled doors and angled his head to look down at her. “The thing about you putting thoughts of marriage in my head?”
She closed her mouth and nodded.
He smirked. “Not a joke.” Before she could react, he pulled open the door and walked them inside. He’d take it slow, but he also wouldn’t lie. Not to her.
Jenna didn’t seem inclined to continue that conversation, as she stayed quiet for the short walk up to the counter.
A tall, fairly muscular man in his early thirties eyed them as they approached. He boasted a head full of thick brown hair that swept down over his ears on either side like waves, a clean-shaven jaw, and watchful lighter brown eyes. When they were close enough, he flicked his gaze briefly between them before holding Jon’s stare and asking, “Can I help you?”
Lance had told Jon all about the call he’d made to the business associated with the address on the back of the index card, so it wasn’t hard for Jon to draw a link. The man at the counter was obviously the Army guy Lance had spoken to, who’d called himself Alex.
Aloud, Jon returned question for question. “Are you Alex?”
The man arched a brow.
Jon released Jenna in favor of digging out his wallet and flipping it open to his ID, which hadn’t exactly been updated to something local just yet. “Jon Johnson. My buddy Lance called and gave you some shit last night, I hear.”
Alex’s stare lingered on the ID and he finally huffed. “Warrant Officer, huh? Impressive.” He met Jon’s gaze again. “But you still need a key, or some other piece of information, Officer Johnson.”
Jon supposed he had to respect a man who adhered to rules, even if the man was Army. He fished the folded-over card from his pocket and passed it across the counter. “I just returned to Oregon a couple days ago. This was being held for me. I’m aware it’s been years, and I don’t know how my grandfather might’ve paid for that kind of long-term storage.”
Alex took the card, skimming over the note and flipping it over to the technical side with the key and address. He made a humming sound and side-stepped to the flatscreen computer monitor tucked half out of sight. With one hand he typed in some information, clicked something open, and stared for long seconds at whatever displayed in response. “Well, fuck me,” he finally said. “I remember this account. Miles was an old fishing buddy of my dad’s, so they worked out an agreement for extra long-term storage services.” He tapped the screen as if in reference. “Looks like your grandfather set this up with the intention to transfer it over from the start. It was prepaid on a uniquely discounted rate for a specified shit-long time, which hasn’t expired yet.” He turned away from the monitor and met Jon’s stare again. “Forgive the personal question, but I assume your grandfather’s passed?”
Jon inclined his head. “Years ago.”
“My condolences.” He handed back the index card. “There’s some paperwork we’ll need from you, including your signature, to let you take active control of the unit. Technically you don’t have to decide today. The balance isn’t set to expire for about three more years, but if you do roll it over, we’ll have to renegotiate rates.”
Jon grunted. They’d negotiated on him making at least twenty years, then. He felt a little like a failure for a moment.
Until Jenna slipped her hand into his and squeezed firmly.
Alex produced two sheets of paper. “If you only want to gain access long enough to empty it out, this is all we’ll need. Aslong as the unit is emptied and possession returned before the prepaid time expires, no more money would be necessary.” He turned, grabbed a pre-prepared set of other papers, and set them beside the first. “If you want to keep the unit moving forward, we’ll need some extra information. Contacts for emergency circumstances, signatures saying you understand the conditions in which we’re obligated to let third party agencies into your space, addresses for billing and communication. Red tape shit.”
Jon nodded.
Alex rested his fingers over the larger pile of papers, prompting Jon to meet his stare again. “I’m not supposed to encourage this, but vet to vet, if you don’thavean address, there’s a VA in town that can hook you up with a P.O. Box. Maybe help you find a place if you plan on staying local. I’ve worked with them, they’re not too bad.”
The offer caught Jon off-guard. Alex’s words were entirely reasonable. Worse, he had a point. Jon had been letting himself put other things ahead of securing a place to live, even temporarily. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to use Tom’s address again. The old airman had done enough for him already.
The ringing of Jenna’s phone cut through the air, shattering Jon’s train of thought. Both men tensed, heads snapping her way, and Jenna offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry!” She dug into her purse, but her movement paused before she could silence or otherwise dismiss the call. “It’s Martha,” she said, turning her gaze up to Jon.
He didn’t need her to explain, or voice the apology already shining in her eyes. He nodded. “Don’t wander.”
She rolled her eyes as she connected the call and stepped away from them. “Martha? Is Steph—”
Jon forced his attention at least mostly forward. Whatever the call was about, Jenna would tell him when he was finished with the storage situation. Or earlier, if she couldn’t contain it.“Would it be possible to use her address for now? I don’t have my own place yet, but I do plan on sticking around. And until I figure that out, or get everything else set up, I’ll need storage anyway.”
Alex frowned. “We’d have to put her on the paperwork as a sub-account holder. Otherwise, people’d be in here spouting off addresses for every damn place.”
Fair enough.“Then hopefully she’ll stand still long enough to sign some papers.” It would just be a formality, anyway. He didn’t intend to incur any penalties.
Alex reached below the desk, where he’d pulled the other paperwork from, and Jon’s ears tuned instinctively back in to Jenna’s partially hushed words.
“I’m in Klamath Falls right now,” she was saying, “so it’s on the way back, anyway. You just stay there, okay? I’ll call you later.”
Well, that didn’t sound like good news. He wished he was surprised.
