Page 11 of Love Grows

“Benjamin,” Steph muttered.

“What?”

“He likes to be called Benjamin, so I’ve heard.” Steph shrugged in a somewhat stilted manner, but I grinned.

“Awesome. Ben, it is.” Then I waggled the letter at Steph. “Probably Benjamin. So? Coming along?”

She gave another shrug. “Ok. I’d like to support you—the nursery, I mean.” Steph blushed and I blinked. Either I was being a clueless lesbian—highly likely—or Steph’s face had just admitted to a little attraction as well. Interesting.

I tucked the letter into my apron pocket, and tipped my chin at the door. “I’ll just duck next door to see if the others know about this.” Then I pursed my lips. “It’s only tomorrow night, so that’s heaps and heaps of notice, isn’t it?” I said, the sarcasm dripping from my words.

Having confirmed that Ted and Jules had received their notice, were happy to close early tomorrow, and were all prepared to meet at the council chambers on the dot of six o’clock, I strolled back into the store, nodding with triumphant satisfaction. I was met by Lucas, who was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet while pushing a cart of eight bird’s nest ferns that had arrived from Plants Galore in the ten minutes I’d been gathering the mob and the tiki torches.

“I texted Paul,” he announced. “He’s in the ornithology club at school and reckons that the Walker’s Warehouseis being built on the nesting area of the Eastern Australian spotted finch. He’s passionate about habitat loss.” Lucas gave the cart an extra heave. “He can be a bit of a firecracker in meetings and would love to be there to ask pointy questions.”

With visions of all-out brawls at the bird society’s weekly get-togethers, and a promise that Paul would be wearing his best enviro-politics T-shirt, I delivered a small punch to the air.

“Great. We’ve got another member for our swarm of concerned citizens.”

Steph laughed. “We’re a swarm?”

“Yep. Small, yet mighty. A sixteen year old bird spotter is our secret weapon.”

Lucas cracked up. “And on that note, I’ve gotta get going, Angel. Sorry for the short shift but I’ve got biology tomorrow and I need all the hours of sleep I can get to tackle a cow’s eyeball.”

Steph and I both said, “Ew,” simultaneously, and Lucas grinned, pushed back a couple of palm fronds into their correct angle, then whipped off his apron, folded it, and dropped it on the counter.

Steph gave him a quick wave, then turned to me face on. “Your argument is based on the lack of community, isn't it?”

“Yes!” I replied, emphatically. “Can you imagine those Walker’s staff members not knowing a thing about their section or being so arrogant to customers who don’t know anything? I’d hate for people to experience that. That’s why this place works. I refuse to be one of those lesbians in the nursery or hardware section who doesn't give a shit and props their Blundstone-clad foot on the bottom rail of the shelving rack and gives the customer a smirk that says knowledgeable, patronising, and prone to using words like 'gauge' and 'penetrating oil-based outdoor deck stain’.”

I took a deep breath as Steph blinked rapidly.

“O-okay. Is this why I’m coming tomorrow night? To keep you from saying things like that?”

I gave her a long look, then laughed. “Probably. Maybe you haven’t met too many smirking, hardware lesbians, but they’re out there,” I said dryly.

“I’ve met a few. They’ve exchanged their Blundstones for Colorados when I’ve come into their sphere of engagement at Kings and Queens.” Steph’s cheeks pinked and I realised that she’d very casually, very quietly, let me know that not only were we part of a small posse of shop owners but members of another small community as well.

Hmm.

I helped Steph move all the ferns to the back of the store.

“Do people really buy these?” Steph asked. “They come across as the sort that would be prone to invading the world given half the chance.”

I let go of my trolley to laugh. “Diabolical plants with a world domination fetish.” I gazed at her mouth which had stretched into a smile, and she seemed to take in my entire face, stopping at my own smile, my eyes. There was an enormous—probably tiny—amount of silence that was warm and rather nice.

“You never know. We’ll have to watch them carefully and create care pamphlets for customers,” Steph said so softly I had to lean in to hear her. Perhaps that was her plan. Good grief. It was all a bit much, so I stepped back.

“It sucks that the meeting is on a Friday night. It’s like they expect no one to turn up.” I widened my eyes in innocence and Steph chuckled. “So, thanks for saying yes to joining us. It means a lot, because you’ve only been working here two weeks. I like that your ideals match this place. I think it’s one of reasons I hired you. Plus, you’re good with the customers.”

Steph blushed slightly. “The senior citizens were a highlight. They’re a hoot. In fact, I’m enjoying everything about Dig It, including all the people here. Everyone.”

Everyone, which, because she was gazing at me so intently, felt like one in particular.

* * *

Our little posse of five—me,Steph, Jules, Mrs G, and Ted—settled into our seats in the arc of chairs available—with an ocean of carpet separating us and the council tables—and were ready to register our verbal complaint via the medium of calm yet clipped lecturn-gripping points of contention. I reckon the others were hoping I’d drunk some camomile tea or something so I could get the Yelling McYelling situation in check. I’d completed my own meditation of scratching Tough’s belly before leaving him at home with a chew bone.

---