Page 5 of Love Grows

“She’s a good worker, Angel. Really meticulous and loves to learn. I reckon you’re on a winner there. I’d hire her in a flash.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Thanks, Kirk.”

“No worries. Cheers, Angel.”

I rang off and tapped the top of my phone to my lips. Kirk was a very good reference to have, yet initially he’d been confused as to who Steph was. I shrugged. Probably because he employed a dozen or more people and an intern or whatever helper Steph had been wasn’t high on his radar.

I shrugged again. Stephanie Thatcher checked out, and as far as I was concerned, despite the holes in her resume, she had the job. After exiting my office and locking the door, I looked for Steph, and found her communing with thecallistemon, accompanied by Tough, who looked like he’d fallen in love with Steph from the way he was closing his eyes with bliss at the head rubs he was receiving.

“I see you’ve met Tough.”

“Is he? Tough, that is?

“Absolutely not, but we foster potential here at Dig It.”

She laughed.

I nodded. “Anyway, your reference checks out, so you’re hired. When can you start?”

Steph’s grin bloomed. “Oh, wow! Thank you so much. I can start as soon as you need me.”

“Goodo. It’s a casual position so if tomorrow works, then eight o’clock?”

“I can definitely do that.”

“You might want to keep wearing your hair up. Plants have a way of transferring accommodation. Not that your hair wouldn’t look nice when it’s down. I mean, it’s—” I cut myself off.What the ever-loving hell?I was flirting. I think.

“Uh. We’ll get the paperwork underway tomorrow then. Tax declaration and all that. Meanwhile.” I pointed towards my right. “Jules stays open on Friday afternoons for all the caffeine tragics like me, so how about a coffee?”

I was on the receiving end of another grin. In the small space of time I’d known Steph, I was already the president of the Steph Thatcher’s Grin Appreciation Society.

We stopped at the floor-to-way-above-head-height cyclone-fenced gate so I could lock it, then I attached a lead to Tough’s collar and walked the few metres to Jules’ cafe.

I wondered at myself. I had met Steph all of two seconds ago and here I was asking her to join me in a cup of coffee. Quickest date invitation in history, which it wasn’t. A date that is. Good grief.

After Jules had called out our ‘fun’ Starbucks-experience names—me: Starfish, Steph: New Girl—we sat at a two-seater table close to the very blurry line that was the cave of mystical wonders and the cafe’s white linoleum. Tough flopped at my feet which made me look like I was wearing white coarse-hair sneakers.

“Starfish?” Steph asked, blowing on her coffee.

I laughed. “Yep. Sand angels at the beach kind of look like starfish, therefore I’m now a sea creature.”

Steph laughed in return, and I pointed a finger. “Don’t laugh too hard. You’re going to be New Girl for the entire year.” Then I smirked as her face dropped.

“So, I don’t get a cool name?”

“That is a cool name. Shiny, sparkly, new.”

I hadn’t meant it to sound so intimate or make my voice so husky. I obviously had the beginnings of laryngitis becauseagainwhat the hell? I hunted about my brain for something bland to chat about. We’d already covered the essentials.

“Can I ask about your address? It’s in a pretty swanky suburb.” There. Bland. But truthfully, I was intrigued.

Steph put her cup onto her saucer. “It’s my parents place. Well, was. They died six years ago, and I inherited it.”

I automatically reached across the table to touch her hand. “I’m so sorry. That…I didn’t mean to dredge up the past.”

“You didn’t know, and it’s fine. I know the apartment has a street number and postcode that raises a few eyebrows.” Steph moved her hand from under mine to pick up her cup, cradling it near her mouth. “But I live where I live.” She took a sip.

“I live in my parents place, too,” I said. Then I rushed to explain that I wasn’t a forty-year-old woman who hadn’t left home. “Four years ago, they decided that they’d travel the world and last year ended up in France and never left. They gave me the deeds to the flat not long after they settled in Normandy.” I warmed at the memory. Mum and Dad had beamed in via the wonder of the internet, the screen nearly bursting with their happiness, as they led me on a shaky laptop tour of their little cottage in Honfleur and I suddenly became the owner of a lovely little flat in Melbourne.

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