Murfey's Law Read online

  ‘Yes, well I'm not entirely comfortable with how quickly he was able to get a hold of that.’ Lori pointed at it with both hands for emphasis, her eyebrows raised in insinuation.

  Jenny put it back beside the bottles of Elderberry and Strawberry wines from Mrs Carter, one of the Bridge Club members, flicked the switch on the kettle and collected two mugs from the draining board beside the sink.

  Her reaction to Lori's face had been relatively calm. Despite a few almost maternal-type mumblings about being more careful in the future, thankfully there hadn't been any signs of a full blown melt down. Lori supposed this was in part due to Jonah's visit to the shop and subsequent disclosure whilst she'd been out with Zeb. In fact, if she was being completely honest she was actually grateful that he'd told Jenny the sordid details. It saved her the shame of having to retell the sorry story herself.

  Her stomach sated with tea and an amazing pork and fennel sausage sandwich, Lori left Jenny to ring up a counter full of toilet rolls for the American family from Saturday's open home and took off upstairs for a shower.

  For once she outlasted the hot water. After initially washing her hair and swiftly running some coconut body wash over her skin with a sponge, Lori had sunk down into the corner of the cubicle to replay the morning's events over and over in her mind. Thinking about how Zeb's strong arms had wrapped her in an embrace so close that every inch of their bare skin had touched made her skin prickle. As she thought about his parting words her face burnt and her insides fluttered.

  When the water finally ran cold she turned off the taps and stepped out from behind the glass, wrapping herself in the only dry towel in the bathroom, which hung where she'd left it this morning.

  With the mirror now disrobed Lori took a long hard look at herself. One side of her bottom lip was almost double the size that it should be. The cut, red and raw, ran from the inside near the top of her tooth, out and down, ending at the soft line between the pink of her lip and the cream of her skin.

  Desperation was no excuse for irresponsibility.

  ‘You're going to have to place a few orders I'm afraid,’ Jenny called out from the shop when she heard Lori come back into the kitchen.

  Grabbing a fresh notebook and pen from her desk Lori went to join her.

  ‘With the kids holidays nearly upon us, not to mention Christmas, things are going to start getting pretty crazy around here,’ Jenny explained as she straightened the tins of pear quarters which, thanks to Lori's reorganisation, were no longer situated beside the panty pads.

  ‘Just how busy can this dinky little place get?’ Lori asked, unconvinced.

  ‘Well, there are just short of three hundred houses here in the village, yet with three quarters of them being holiday homes, the population of this dinky little place explodes almost tenfold within hours of the end of year school bells ringing. You add that to the day trippers and you've got yourself over a thousand people a day, for six weeks straight.’

  ‘A captive audience.’ Lori felt a little bubble of excitement rise inside her.

  ‘Indeed.’ Jenny smiled, watching Lori's face light up.

  ‘The next few open homes could go off!’ rubbing her hands together in glee Lori started making a mental to-do list.

  Jenny's smile didn't drop beat, her eyes though, told a different story. Lori knew she had been referring to the huge business potential, but selling up was what she came here to do, and she needed to see it through to the end. It wasn't as though she could just drop her old life in the UK and make a new one in Murfey's Beach even if she wanted to, which she didn't. After all, what was there for her here?

  Jenny turned back to the shelf of tinned fruit.

  They sat in companionable silence for well over an hour. Lori filled several pages of her notebook with a very long stock list while Jenny jumped between dusting shelves and serving anyone that came in.

  ‘I think we ought to talk about paying you a wage for all the hours you put in here,’ Lori said when she'd finished counting a box full of highlighter pens. She couldn't actually afford to pay Jenny, the shop had barely made a profit in the few weeks she'd been here, and that was really only down to her replacing the lollies and ice creams, although it had been worth it just to see the kids faces. It was the right thing to do though, she put in far too many hours for free as it was.

  ‘No. I don't think that's right,’ Jenny dismissed her coolly.

  ‘Umm, ok, well...’ Lori hadn't even formulated a response before Jenny continued.

  ‘You could do something else for me though.’ She had a glint in her eye.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Yes, I want to make you a proposition. Let's have tea.’ Jenny put down the duster and walked off with purpose toward the kitchen.

  ‘Tea is the proposition? Or tea is to be had whilst propositioning me?’ Lori asked facetiously.

  Jenny laughed and beckoned for Lori to follow. ‘Just humour me for a little bit.’

  Her proposal was actually very well thought out, she had clearly put a lot of time into it.

  ‘So, instead of paying you for the hours you already do, you want me to let you put in even more hours and payment is to be made in the form of allowing you to start a cafe out the back?’ Referring back to her notepad she tried to summarise the half an hour conversation into one breath. Jenny had gone into quite some detail covering everything from profit sharing to menu and pricing approval processes and so, out of habit, Lori had taken comprehensive notes.

  ‘That's it in a nutshell.’ Jenny put down her empty mug and held out her hand. ‘Let's shake on it. No need for any paperwork or other such nonsense.’

  ‘Woah! Hang on there.’ Lori too put down her mug, but instead slid her hands firmly underneath her bottom.

  ‘Come on Lorikeet, what have you got to lose? I'm putting forward the little bit of capital expenditure for the equipment, you are simply lending me the room and deck out the back. The hours won't even interfere with the community evening events.’

  ‘I'm not worried about me.’ Lori looked pointedly at her friend who was jiggling in her seat with excitement. ‘I'm just concerned that for one, you'll be spending even more time away from whatever it is you used to do before Jack died, and two, what if I do find a buyer for the shop and the investors vote that I am cleared to sell?’

  ‘Well, before your father passed I did the same as what I do now, I volunteered my time. Not that it's any of your business but I retired quite comfortably several years ago now, and with no husband or children to worry about I need to fill my days so that I don't turn into some sort of crazy cat collecting spinster.’ She laughed with such vigour the stool creaked loudly underneath her.

  Lori removed her hands and drained her mug.

  ‘And to your other point,’ Jenny continued, ‘if you do find someone to buy the place then it'll be up to them as to whether they want to keep me on. That need not be your concern.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Lori paused, momentarily wondering if she would regret doing something that would only embed her into the shop and Murfey's Beach even more, but then extended her hand, ‘ah what the hell.’

  ‘Oh my goodness! Lorikeet you will NOT regret this I promise you.’ Jenny launched herself enthusiastically from her seat, knocking it to the floor where it broke into three pieces. Her short little arms gripped Lori in a tight squeeze. ‘Don't worry about that horrible old stool I have so many of your father's hand made tables and chairs stored in my shed I could cater for a wedding!’

  She hadn't been exaggerating Lori realised, as they carried back their final table. They'd used what was stored under the deck first, then headed next door to number twenty-one for some more.

  With a little juggling and a fair amount of swearing they managed to fit eight round tables in the back room, and six on the deck. There was just enough room to place four chairs around each setting, and if ever there was a need for more, though god knows what for, Jenny's shed housed another four complete sets.

  ‘Ei
ghteen tables and seventy-two chairs, what on earth was my father planning on doing with all of them?’ Lori collapsed into one of the seats, exhausted from the heavy lifting. Her hands caressed the beautifully carved arms.

  ‘Well, I'm not exactly sure. All I can tell you is that I came to the village nearly fifteen years ago now, and the day I moved in he had a delivery of the most beautiful timber. I remember it clearly because the old fashioned delivery truck was blocking the way of my removalists. When I asked him what he was doing with it he just said he'd started making tables and chairs a few years earlier. Then, every year on exactly the same day the man came and delivered more wood, and your father would take a year to make the set, entirely by hand. Just as he finished, the next year would roll around and he'd start all over again.’

  A sharp pain stung Lori's throat as she spoke, ‘Eighteen years?’

  ‘What? Oh yes, you're probably right, eighteen sets for eighteen years.’ Jenny nodded squeezing herself into the seat opposite.

  ‘Did you move in on the sixth of January by any chance?’ Lori swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze far ahead on the horizon.

  Jenny gasped, ‘I did! How on earth did you know?’

  ‘Just a hunch.’

  The sun setting behind the house cast a long cool shadow across the garden where Bob lay prostrate. Little tufts of grass, wafted by the cool breeze, tickled his face making him sneeze and rub his muzzle comically into the lawn as though desperately trying to scratch an itch. After a cloudless day, the afternoon's southerly change brought with it the threat of a storm. If it came to fruition, it'd be welcome, the few plants in the garden looked in dire need of a drink.

  ‘Knock knock!’ A voice called out from inside the shop. Before Lori or Jenny could get up from the comfort of their chairs Kristy appeared at the back door, she was flanked by Simon.

  ‘Kristy! Simon! How lovely to see you both.’ Jenny almost jumped upright.

  ‘You know each other?’ Confused, Lori frowned and pointed back and forth between the three of them.

  Jenny shared a 'look' with Kristy. ‘Of course! I met Simon on one of his early morning deliveries here and he and I got talking. Then when I was in Green Bay in the week I met Kristy, and we had a nice chat too.’

  ‘About the shop I presume?’ Lori raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Anyway, I just thought it might be nice if we all had a little dinner together.’ Jenny ignored Lori's question.

  ‘And then you called the Bakery this morning and happened to mention this?’ Lori pointed at her lip and tried to sound incredulous. She was annoyed, but it didn't surprise her. The minute Jonah had told Jenny, the secret was out. He may as well have hung a large neon sign above the front verandah.

  ‘What on earth gives you that idea?’ Kristy and Simon spoke in unison.

  Lori shook her head. She didn't want to cause a scene, it was fairly obvious that a fat lip the size of a gobstopper would normally elicit a shocked response on first sight. Kristy though, hadn't even flinched.

  ‘How about I pop next door and rustle up some salad to go with that.’ Jenny pointed at a big brown bag Simon had in his hand. Leaving Lori on the deck with her guests she disappeared back inside. She knew Lori needed all the friends possible at the moment, and if those friends happened to come with some brilliant business ideas that could spark something inside her, then well that was a bonus.

  ‘I'm going to grab some things from the kitchen.’ Simon took off with the bag, uncomfortable with Jenny's scheming. He liked Lori, and she was his wife's new friend, but if she wanted to leave Murfey's Beach he didn't think anyone should be forcing her to stay, regardless of the potential goldmine the shop was.

  Kristy stepped out on to the deck and took a deep breath. ‘Wow. I've been here what, a few times? And still every time, I get this immense sense of comfort.’

  ‘Yes, well, don't get too comfortable.’ Lori laughed and leant forward to hug her friend. ‘I should throw you out for sneaking around behind my back!’

  ‘Don't be so dramatic Lori, she's perfectly harmless.’ Kristy rolled her eyes and held Lori's face in her hands, studying her lip. ‘This Casper bloke however, really did a number on you didn't he? The bastard.’

  Lori sighed, ‘I'm lucky Zeb and Jonah were there.’

  ‘The sexy policeman and the gay masseuse?’

  ‘They are both policemen, and I never said he was sexy.’ Lori sat back down and motioned for Kristy to sit beside her.

  ‘You didn't have to, I've seen him for myself now. He came into the bakery the other day.’ Kristy licked her lips and gave a little moan, ‘Mmm Mmm.’

  ‘Oh my god, you are like a lecherous old man!’ They both burst out laughing.

  ‘Am I interrupting anything?’ Simon reappeared in the door way causing the pair to cackle even louder.

  ‘No, no, not at all darling, Lori was just asking me about our latest bread,’ she spoke pan-faced.

  Lori stifled a giggle and patted the table. ‘Here, put those down.’

  Simon slid two huge plates onto the table. On one, a selection of his most delicious artisan breads, cut into neat doorstep style chunks, were piled high. Lori could see her, and what had also become the village's, favourite - the olive and rosemary. On the other plate, which was really more of a platter, seven different cheeses sat airing. He returned briefly to the kitchen leaving Lori salivating.

  ‘I am starving!’ Lori pinched the corner off some sort of blue vein cheese and popped it in her mouth.

  ‘That'll be all the fresh air you're getting.’ Kristy winked and grabbed a piece of bread.

  ‘Mmm, this cheese is incredible! Where did you get it?’ Lori pulled the plate towards her to study the speckled wedge.

  ‘That, is from Watersleigh Farm.’ Simon stepped back outside. ‘It's this bloody amazing little hobby farm, well, I say little but I think it's like two hundred and fifty acres, it's only about half an hour from here, straight across the highway due west.’

  Kristy cut in, ‘It's the place I told you about Lori, they sell to a specialty cheese shop in Fisherman's Bay but I know they'd love a new outlet for their products.’

  Lori wasn't stupid, she could see what this dinner was about. ‘Look, both of you, I'm touched you are keen to help out with ideas for this place, but I've told you, in fact I've told everyone, not that they're listening, that my plan remains the same. I'm selling. End of story.’

  Simon gave his wife a 'told you so' look and set down the cutlery and crockery.

  ‘I hear you Lori, really I do, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to get just a few more local products on the shelves. It could be a win win. The residents will think you're doing the best thing for the community, and any potential buyers will see the place as something more than just a beat up run down village shop selling packet soup and single ply loo roll.’ Kristy squeezed Lori's hand.

  ‘Here here!’ Jenny chimed in from the doorway. Her arms were laden with an enormous bowl of salad.

  ‘For god's sake you three, this is tantamount to bullying!’ Lori raised her voice, ‘Will everyone shut up if I agree to think about it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jenny looked sufficiently sheepish.

  ‘I didn't...’ Simon started to object but on receiving Lori's steely glare, changed his tack. ‘Yes ma'am.’

  Only Kristy remained. Lori turned to her friend, her head tilted in anticipation.

  ‘Think about it isn't enough for me,’ she pushed on.

  ‘I'd quit while you're ahead.’ Simon sat down beside his wife.

  Kristy grimaced. ‘Ok... yes.’ It clearly pained her having to give in.

  As the evening sun dipped below the horizon the sound of crickets filled the air. Bob came back up from the garden and slunk between the chairs, settling himself under the table, at Lori's feet. Every few minutes the sky lit up and the distant roll of thunder crept closer. After the high emotions of the morning Lori enjoyed the easy conversation that flowed amongst the four of them. Several hours passe
d and by the time the salad bowl was empty it was getting on for ten o'clock.

  Lori tried to suppress a yawn.

  ‘Look at you kiddo, you're exhausted!’ Jenny stood up and started tidying away the dishes.

  ‘Yes, we really ought to be going, Simon needs to be up in six hours.’ Kristy stood up too and placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. He picked up her fingers and kissed them, resting his head on her wrist.

  ‘I don't know how you do it Simon.’ Lori smiled at him. He looked even more tired that she felt.

  ‘Easy,’ he replied, ‘every day I get up before the sun and I walk down into the bakery. I sit at the front counter with my coffee and I look at everything we've created. Before Dough Raise Me I was making nearly seven figures a year and not once did I ever experience the same level of satisfaction that I get every day, sat at that counter, at four in the morning.’

  Kristy leant down and kissed the top of his greying head. ‘Come on you big sook, let's go to bed.’

  ‘You three get out of here, I'll tidy this lot up.’ Lori shooed her guests back through the shop and out onto the verandah. Tomorrow was the start of a new week and she had a million tasks to get through before Saturday and the second open home.

  Once the sleek black Porsche had crept slowly up the road and Jenny had disappeared across the driveway into the dark, Lori shut tight the front door.

  As she flicked off the lights and the shop was thrown into darkness she paused a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Running her fingers over the counter she walked silently into the middle of the shop and turned, slowly, full circle. Visualising the fridges and shelves rearranged, repainted and stacked high with fresh, beautiful, local produce Lori had to admit, the place really did have huge potential.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Un-freaking-believable.’ Lori slapped a little piece of paper onto the kitchen counter in front of Jenny.