Page 24 of Love Grows

“Hello. Do you work here?”

I looked down at my gardening apron with Dig It emblazoned across the front. I guess it could have crossed his mind that I’d stolen the apron and worn it about the suburb as an accessory.

“Yep. I’m Angel. How can I help?”

I spotted Steph who was walking towards me, then, as the bloke took his cap off to reveal a buzz cut hairdo, she stopped in her tracks, then spun around and marched away so fast that the fronds of the nearby plants swayed in her wake. I blinked. That was weird.

I turned towards the obtuse bloke.

He smiled, and suddenly a flash of recognition zipped through my brain.

“My name’s Harry Kirlew. I’m the state managing director of Walker’s Warehouses.” He smiled again. A lizard’s smile. Slimy and liable to bite. A Yes Man.

Taking my gaze away from his disingenuous smile, I looked at his hand which he’d stuck out in greeting. I oversaw a mini debate in my head between disgust at shaking Harry’s hand and manners. Manners won out, and after a brief touching of palms, I barely refrained from wiping my hand down the side of my jeans.

“I remember you from the council meeting. What brings you here, then, Harry?”

He smiled again. It was the sort of smile that looked like he’d been to Facial Gesture Gym to focus on that particular mouth movement. “Well, Angel. I do think we might have got off on the wrong foot.”

I tilted my head. “Really? I reckon my feet are firmly pointed in the right direction.”

“Look, I understand how?—”

“You know what? You don’t, actually. You don’t understand how it is. This place…” I waved my hand. “It’s my life, and your warehouse is going to kill it.”

Essentially true.

Then I asked the obvious question. “Why are you here?”

“Ah. Well, I wanted to have a reasonable discussion and also, of course, to visit your establishment—all of your establishments—to get the real story, so to speak. It was mentioned at the council meeting—I believe it was you, perhaps—that we really should glean an understanding of how local businesses would be impacted.”

I blinked at him in disbelief. “Glean? What have you gleaned so far, Harry?”

“I see just how much community is here and I value that as an outstanding element to the structure of our society.” It sounded like he’d flipped a switch and an auto response unit took over. It was pure advertisement speak.

Which was apt because then he handed me the project brochure for the warehouse. It was smooth and glossy, just like Harry. And Benjamin Walker for that matter. I flipped through it, feeling the silkiness of the expensive paper, noting the stock photos of a laughing couple who’d found another laughing couple and now they were laughing together. Why were people in stock photos always laughing? The whole brochure was fake and felt very much like I imagined a Walker’s manager would behave if they were schmoozing a new client for the circular saws display of the tools section.

I handed it back to him.

“No, thanks,” I said.

He frowned, his eyebrows in that same pointy, irritated angle as from the meeting. “Look, we all want the best outcome here. This new warehouse will be Walker Industries’ biggest. It’ll be our flagship, and I thought I’d visit to see your wonderful establishments. Partake in a coffee. Perhaps purchase lunch then buy a…” He peered at one of the potted plants with its label sticking out of the soil. “Grevillea, while I was at it. I also wanted to find out if you would reconsider your complaint.”

I registered two things. Craig’s awesome cranky letter had been received, and we were the only opposition that Walker’s was up against. I was instantly proud of our little group.

Harry continued, inhaling deeply and seeming to grow another inch in his already six feet or so. “It would be detrimental to your businesses if you continued with your complaint.”

I blinked. “It will be more detrimental if we con—” I blinked again. “Did you just threaten me?”

Harry harrumphed then jammed his cap back on his head. “No, of course not. I was simply imparting business advice.” Then after a long stare and a tight smile, he wished me a good afternoon and strolled from the store.

What the actual hell?

* * *

I foundSteph in the office.

“Are you okay? You looked like you saw a ghost.” I held her hand, and cupped her cheek with my other hand.

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