Page 12 of Love Grows

There were a surprising number of people. Probably fifty, which made me wonder if Walker’s had pissed off that many. Though, after the first fifteen minutes, I discovered that not everyone was there for the Walker’s issue. A small-scale developer and his lawyer were there to complain about the caveat placed on the building they wanted to demolish and how dare the council deem the one-hundred year old home a heritage listing. While the to-ing and fro-ing continued, I scanned the twenty council members. Old white bloke, old white bloke, old white bloke, middle-aged white woman, Asian woman, generic twenty-something guy, old white bloke, another old white bloke, a Sikh man with a beautiful red ombre turban about his head, more white people, and then the Walker’s crew. A maybe forty-something man with clipped and heavily gelled hair in a very expensive-looking suit radiated so much confidence that I knew it would come across as arrogance when he stood to speak. I made a bet with myself that the super confident guy was Benjamin Walker. I leaned sideways and murmured to Steph out of the corner of my mouth.

“Is the suit who dipped his head in a bucket of gel our buddy Ben?”

Steph snorted, but I didn’t get to see the grin because she had slumped down further on her chair, almost at one with the fabric, and pulled the fedora-style hat further over her face.

She’d turned up at ten to six wearing the hat, pulling the sides over her hair.

“Nice hat, Steph,” I’d complimented. “I love it, but from the way you’re yanking it down, it’s almost like you don’t want anyone to recognise you.” I’d laughed, and rubbed her shoulder. She smiled at the gentle tease, then grimaced.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache so shading my eyes from the fluorescent lights is necessary.”

“Oh. Shit! That sucks. Go home and have some quiet time with a Panadol or two.”

Steph had straightened and gently waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh no. I really want to see this tonight.”

She seemed overly enthusiastic about witnessing a bunch of people having a massive whinge at the council, but I loved the fact that she was as passionate about our community of shops as we were, despite being our newest recruit.

Steph whispered a “Yes,” in response to my question about suit dude, and I gave myself a mental high-five for winning my bet. Seated beside Benjamin Walker was another bloke who looked like he was aiming for the boss twin trophy. He had the look of a Yes Man. The next person along was intriguing. A fabulously sexy, incredibly intimidating, ice queen-style woman with shoulder-length blonde hair sporting a razor sharp fringe that looked like it would deliver a thousand paper cuts if you ventured anywhere near it. She was scanning the crowd, then her gaze landed on me. I felt like I was being x-rayed. It was disconcerting. Ice queen women weren’t really my type—I preferred the natural, bit chaotic, version—so I was incredibly relieved when her gaze moved on. She paused on Steph, who was still at one with the itchy blue upholstery on the chairs. Her headache was obviously still making itself known, so I stroked her upper arm in sympathy as we sat, and Steph looked up through her eyelashes from under the brim and smiled warmly.

“We come now to our last order of business.” The mayor’s voice cut through my musings—my feelings—and I straightened my spine. Suddenly I was an alert meerkat.

“The potential development of a Walker Lifestyle Warehouse on the north side of the A83 highway. This portion of the meeting is open to citizens to express their concerns, if there are any, regarding the development. Please take note of your time allocation.” He gestured to his right, and all the councillors directed their focus, like fox terriers on a ball, to where he pointed. “We are fortunate to have Mr Benjamin Walker, CEO of Walker Industries with us tonight, accompanied by Mr Harry Kirlew, state manager of Walker Lifestyle Warehouses and Ms Katherine Marcheson, senior lawyer at Walker Industries.”

Ice queen woman was a lawyer. I wasn’t really surprised. I figured you’d need frozen veins to write the policies, procedures, and smart lawyerly language that steamrolled over small businesses. I narrowed my eyes and metaphorically pushed up my sleeves as Benjamin stood at his place at the long council table.

“Let me begin by saying how symbiotic it will be when the Walker Lifestyle Warehouse is built. We support local communities, and inject funds into sporting groups, and supporting charities is a Walker trademark.” He smiled, all teeth and Teflon.

“What does that have to do with us?” Jules hissed. I had the same question.

Benjamin wasn’t looking at the audience. It was like he was pitching an idea to a shareholder’s meeting where people were already on his side in the first place.

He didn’t see us as individual people, and the thought made my blood boil.

Steph must have felt me vibrating with annoyance, because she slid her hand over and gripped my forearm, which caused the vibrations to pivot like an expert footballer to warm tingles brought on by a rather lovely woman.

Two weeks. That was the total amount of time Steph had worked at Dig It, and here I was with warm tingles and a slight flush to my skin all because my forty-year-old heart had decided it really liked Steph. I wanted to quash this brilliant idea of my heart but forearm touches and smiles and delightful repartee were difficult to ignore.

“If I could direct your attention to the first slide.” I jerked myself back from Magical Smiles and Touches land and focused on the large screen that Benjamin was gesturing towards. It contained a stock image of a smiling young person diligently typing into their phone while an aisle of hardware paraphernalia had been green-screened behind them.

“One of the more exciting aspects of the Walker Lifestyle Warehouse is the concept of hardware hacks!” He beamed.

“What the hell’s a hardware hack?” I muttered.

Benjamin ploughed on. “The proposed warehouse on the A83 highway will be a flagship store showcasing the hardware hack innovation.” He flicked to the next slide, which contained the same stock image but now the customer was aiming their phone at a QR code. “At the end of every aisle will be a QR code that sends a customer to a link where they can follow a Walker instructional video to create the item. And all the materials needed for the item they want to build are in that aisle! It’s all at their fingertips! Then!” His grin was a beacon of bright teeth and the ultimate joy in his own genius. “Once they have used the hack, they upload a video or photo of their finished product to any social media platform, tag our company in their post, and earn loyalty points according to the number of likes they receive. It’s revolutionary!” He gestured to the audience in the manner of ‘isn’t it obvious?’

I scanned the applauding councillors. Most were caught up in Benjamin’s enthusiasm, nodding like those bobble-head dogs on the dashboard in cars. Harry—Mr Yes Man—was nodding along as well. Katherine Marcheson wasn’t. The look on her face was indecipherable, but enthusiasm certainly hadn’t made an appearance.

I wondered why we were hearing the sales pitch. What about the rezoning? The location? The taking away people’s livelihood section? It was like they were trying to white-wash the whole situation. Convince us to drop our objection because Walker’s was too wonderful to touch.

Benjamin was still going. “We want to encourage the millennials, the….what’s the one younger than them?” No one answered. “Doesn’t matter. It’s the blokes, the chicks with tools, all the DIY-ers, the lesbians who give any project a go.” I gave a soft growl, and Steph’s hand smoothed its way down my forearm again.

“We want to give lifestyle influencers the ability to access the tools and materials right at their fingertips. Everyone wants to think that they’re a carpentry genius, or a storage magician, or a spray paint …He faded off as if he’d exhausted his repertoire of nouns.

“Savant?” Katherine supplied, with a raised eyebrow, and a few members of the audience snickered.

Katherine Marcheson seriously had no love for Benjamin Walker. I wondered why.

Benjamin continued blathering but I tuned him out. I wasn’t interested in his sales spiel and I’d heard all I needed to hear. I mentally sorted out my questions and rebuttals ready for my turn at the microphone.

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