Page 8 of Love Grows

Steph blew out a breath. “So much easier.” Then she grinned. “I bet your customers are also into routine. This place strikes me as somewhere that invites neighbours and many people from surrounding areas to buy plants and stay for a good chat.”

“Exactly. A lot of folks make an afternoon of it. They visit Ted’s book shop, buy a classic or two, drop by Jules’ place to grab a coffee and get gifted a new moniker, then come here and buy something nice for their patio or balcony.” I entwined my fingers. “We, all of us, are an important part of these people’s weekend. They’re regulars and I’d hate for that to go.”

“Would it?”

I growled. “It will if bloody Walker’s gets their way.”

Steph looked like she was holding her breath, and I gave her a quizzical look. I about to ask if she was okay but the thought of Walker’s was still filling my brain.

“Walker’s is building a warehouse on that enormous block of land down the road.”

“Oh!”

“Yep. Bloody noxious weed that they are. Say goodbye to Dig It and Coffee Crystals because we’re suddenly competition with our similar stock, but also Mr and Mrs G with their takeaway and Ted with his books. They’ll have dwindling foot traffic and eventually they’ll have to sell up. It sucks.” I slammed the door of the bonsai cupboard, and drove the lock into the slot. I turned to find Steph with a look on her face like she was contemplating something important. Probably my news.

“It would affect them that much?” Steph whispered.

“Absolutely.” I gestured for her to follow me down to the register counter. “Think of a giant supermarket going in up the road from a small well-loved fruit and veg place who had regular, local trade. They’d try hard to keep their customers, but eventually people go to the big supermarket because.” I fisted my hand then pointed a finger. “One. It’s convenient. Two.” I poked out another finger. “They can get everything they need, not just fruit and veg, and three.” I paused, then threaded my hand through my short strands of hair. “I don’t have a three. I reckon one and two are awful enough.”

“Has it been approved yet?”

“The Walker’s Warehouse?” I turned the EFTPOS machine around, ready to show Steph the ins and outs of working the till. “No. We’ve got ninety days to lodge a complaint. It’ll have to be an official one from a lawyer.” I set the stack of empty boxes ready for customers to take their potted plants home without getting their car seats dirty. “I’d prefer one we know, but the local guy in the next row of shops said he wouldn’t take on Walker’sif we paid him a squillion dollars.”

Steph straightened the brown paper bags on the counter. “One of my friends is a lawyer. She’s super busy at the moment, but she’d know of someone who could take on Walker’s.”

I paused in my sorting. “Really? That’s terrific. Could I have your friend’s office number? Maybe we can set up an appointment for next week.”

Steph jerked, sending a cascade of bags to the floor. She stooped to pick them up. “Oh! How about I call her first? You know, introduce the idea and see if she’s got a person in mind.”

I blinked at the intensity of Steph’s answer, then smiled. She obviously felt as strongly about the situation as we all did.

* * *

Once the EFTPOSand general purchasing tutorial was over, I left Steph to it, only pausing to wander out of my little cupboard-office when I heard Pip’s voice at the front.

“Hey, Angel. Steph here has agreed to a Tarot reading when she’s finished today.” Pip beamed and I turned to Steph, whose eyes were sparkling. With joy? I hoped so. I really wasn’t into Tarot and crystals and all that, but Pip was and I wasn’t about to rain on anyone’s parade. It made her happy and that was all that mattered.

“Make sure she’s not going to get hit by a bus, Pip. I need my staff members safe.”

Pip tossed a mock glare at me, then grinned. “Just as well I like you, because that sort of comment makes me want to un-feng-shui this place.”

I laughed, and Pip gestured at my lurid orange shirt, the sleeves and upper torso peeking out from beneath the apron.

“Latest op-shop purchase?”

“Absolutely.”

Steph grinned. “I love op-shopping. I get the best bargains on designer labels.” I wouldn’t have picked Steph for an op-shop frequent flyer but maybe her fancy jeans from yesterday were hidden gems from her neighbourhood charity store.

I nodded. “Exactly. I go to op shops because it’s like a pick ’n mix buffet. You never know if the stuff will fit and that’s a fun guessing game. In a regular shop you have to go in, get the clothes you want, go to a tiny cubicle, pull across the curtain which never goes all the way, and try on stuff all the while looking in a mirror straight out of a circus.”

Steph and Pip cracked up.

I laughed at their reaction, then pointed to Steph. “How has it been so far?”

“Fine. Not that busy but busy enough. It was lovely, actually. I had a couple from Canada who wanted ten ornamental plants for their front entrance area. The woman wanted an English cottage garden and the man wanted Australian natives, so I recommended a fewEremophilaand a collection of the Boronia.” Steph raised her eyebrows in a hopeful query.

“Diplomatic and perfect. Well done,” I said, impressed, and Steph let out a huff of breath in relief.

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