Page 10 of Love Grows

Touched that Kadee would want my opinion, I pushed away the image of Steph standing in a field holding a bouquet of dried proteas and folded my arms on the table.

“I’m not sure. Maybe honesty. Kind eyes, I guess,” I replied. “A nice smile.”

Kadee nodded. Then, at the other end of the table, Benji lifted his hand, the collection of bracelets clicking together on his wrist. I’d given up trying to get Benji to stop doing that particular gesture like he was in school, but apparently he needed to so he could create space for himself.

“Smiles mean you’re happy and what if you’re never happy,” he said softly, his blonde curls falling over his eyes.

I gazed at him. “Permanent happiness sounds exhausting, Benji. But happiness can be other things. Like me in this place. If I went around grinning like a clown, radiating permanent joy and happiness, then we’d have no customers. Can you imagine the Google reviews?”

The other teens looked up at the joke, either appreciating the effort or theatrically rolling their eyeballs.

“In this place,” I continued. “I’m satisfied. I’m pleased. I’m content. I’m…well, you get the idea. I’m versions of happy and sometimes those states of being don’t need a smile, but can be quite attractive to someone. They can see those versions, and be drawn to them.” I looked at Kadee. “How’s your LillypillyAcmena smithiigoing?” I insisted on not patronising my Bonsai Brainiacs and used the scientific names for the plants whenever I could.

“It’s good. I trimmed the primary buds to balance the top layer.”

“Happy with it?”

“Yes.” Then Kadee jerked. “I’m attracted to a plant?”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “I have a strange fascination with the Green Mist Acacias which many would deem unhealthy.”

This time there was more laughter and less eye-rolling.

* * *

On Thursday,Lucas picked up the mail from the post office.

“Bill, junk mail, junk mail…” he paused. “And something from Melbourne City Council.” He tossed it over to me, and I quickly slid my finger under the stuck-down flap. I shook out a piece of paper with single-spaced text.

Steph wandered over. “Anything interesting?” She stood at my shoulder, not reading the letter, but more like just being close. I looked up and fell into those brown eyes, which were looking back with interest.

Maybe Steph was having attractive thoughts as well. Perhaps she needed her own bonsai.

“It’s an invitation of sorts to attend the next council meeting—tomorrow night—to express our concerns in the hope that we might put aside our decision to fire off a fancy lawyerly letter.” I pointed at my chest. “Which we’re still doing, by the way.”

“So, are we going to the meeting as well?” Lucas asked, his brow wrinkled.

“You don’t have to, mate, but if you want, you can come and grumble loudly.”

“I kinda have to stay home and grumble loudly at my Economics essay. Sorry.” He looked contrite

Suddenly Mrs G stormed into the nursery, waving the paper and shouting in broken English.

“This. This council is having the meeting.”

“Tomorrow night,” Steph and I said together.

“Look. Is here. Tomorrow,” she continued, like a veritable steamroller. “At six o’clock.” She thrust the thin paper into my hands and stabbed a finger at the tiny writing.

“It’s really unfair. I’m glad you got a copy as well,” I placated.

Mrs Georgopolis puffed with pride. “I am important community member. This.” Again, the stabbing finger. “This. They ask for concerned citizens. That is us. This is not community feeling. This Walker’s is not community.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched back to her shop.

“Unfortunately, the council and Walker’s are meeting their legal obligations, because advertising the meeting is mandatory,” Steph said quietly. “They have to hold an open forum, and besides, council meetings are not allowed to be conducted behind closed doors,”.

I turned to her more square on and raised my eyebrows.

“Want to come along?” I scanned the letter again. “Says here that the reps from Walker's will be there, including the head honcho himself, Ben Walker.”

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