Authors: Bec Johnson
Brilliant work. This is precisely why reckless behaviour and I don’t mix well, Lori thought contritely as she coughed and flapped again.
Just as her head disappeared under another wave something slammed hard into her, pushing her back up out of the water.
‘You stupid bitch!’ Zeb burst out of the water with her, the entire length of his body pressed against hers, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist. ‘You could have fucking died jumping off there like that! Have you completely lost your mind?’
Lori pushed her hands hard against his bare chest trying to break free of his grip. Where the hell had he come from? She was adamant he hadn’t been in the water. She would have seen him for sure, wouldn’t she?
‘I was trying to save YOU, you idiot!’
Lori shouted barely an inch from his face. She was fairly certain she’d just spat on him but under the circumstances didn’t feel it necessary to stop and say sorry. ‘I couldn’t see you anywhere and your stupid dog was going mental looking for you.’
He didn’t let her go, no matter how hard she fought. Instead, as another wave came smashing down he pulled her back under the surface and their bodies tangled together in the current. The vest Lori was wearing rolled up with the motion of the water between them and clung to the fabric of her bra, the bare skin of her stomach quaked as his hands gripped the bottom of her ribcage. When they resurfaced behind the wave he turned her around so she was facing away from him and with one strong swift motion pushed her up onto his surfboard which, thanks to its tether, hadn’t strayed far as they’d been tossed and dumped in the powerful surf.
Zeb dragged himself on top of her, lying between her legs, his six-pack against her bottom. Lori squeezed her eyes tight, mortified but grateful he couldn’t see her face. She so wanted to yell at him that she hadn’t needed saving but from this position she daren’t breathe let alone gesticulate in argument.
‘What do you mean my dog? I don’t have a dog,’ Zeb snarled as he began paddling his arms either side of the board, steering them back to shore.
Once more the surf crashed into them, washing over their heads. Lori untangled her hair which had come out of its band after her leap of lunacy, and Zeb shook the water from his face causing Lori’s bottom to wobble. Death by drowning seemed favourable to the shame she was feeling right now.
‘There!’ Lori pointed at the blue dog in the sand, now sat silently watching the excitement unfold in the sea. ‘Your dog there. The one I saw following you up the road yesterday morning after your surf. After you came to the shop.’
Once in shallow water Zeb stopped paddling and climbed off of Lori’s backside. Rolling off the board with no grace she stood up too, patting down her vest like it was a turn of the century petticoat.
‘That, is not my dog.’ Zeb pointed at the creature which was now rolling in a pile of seaweed with a look of pure ecstasy on its face. ‘That is Bob. And Bob, is your dog.’
‘What?’
‘He was your father’s dog, he was left to you in the Last Will and Testament you signed acceptance of yesterday.’
‘I did no such thing!’ Lori tried to be incredulous despite the slow dawning dread of realisation that she hadn’t actually read anything yesterday before signing twelve times. TWELVE TIMES!
‘I’m afraid you did Lorikeet, did you not read what you were signing for?’ His sarcasm was evident in the smile that played on his lips as he gathered up his board and walked up the sand to pat the dog on the head.
The gossip in small towns worked the same the world over. Most of Murfey’s Beach and Green Bay probably knew that she'd not read the damn papers before signing them by now.
Zeb was loving this. ‘No need to panic, there are no other surprises. Just Bob. And your share of the shop.’
Sandy knickers.
Lori lay flat on her back at the water’s edge. She refused to move as the ebb and flow of the waves washed sand into her pants. She didn’t care. Zeb had left her there half an hour earlier, declaring her a petulant child.
Bob on the other hand had dug himself a little lake beside her, and was resting his chin in the crook of her arm.
‘Well Bob, I’m not sure I know how to get us out of this mess I’m afraid. Unless you have any great ideas that is?’ Lori wriggled her toes as another wave lapped over her legs.
Bob didn’t respond, instead he heaved a sigh, blowing hot doggy breath on her skin.
‘No? Me either,’ Lori groaned quietly.
According to Zeb, Jack James had run into financial difficulties a year or so back. Not a big fan of paying his taxes he had landed himself a seventy-thousand dollar bill and simply hadn’t any savings to cover it. The shop barely covered its running costs, profit had clearly been a dirty word in her father’s vocabulary.
In an effort to avoid jail, Jack had offered up shares in the future of the business and surprisingly, to Lori at least, it hadn’t taken him long to find seven Murfey’s Beach residents willing to loan him ten thousand dollars each. In return, they received a statutory declaration, witnessed by none other than the local Police Sergeant himself, stating that should Jack, or any beneficiary of his, decide to sell the shop then they would need a majority agreement from the shareholders to do so.
No financial gain could be made by the shareholders as such. Their investment was more about protecting the benefit to the community, by keeping the only local store in the village afloat. The likelihood of any potential buyer wanting to keep the place going as a shop and not knock it down to make way for a luxury weekender was more than fairly slim.
All seven loans were still standing and so Lori only had two choices. She either needed to come up with the cash to buy back all the shares, then she alone could decide the fate of her inheritance, or, she needed to persuade a minimum of four complete strangers that regaining some semblance of her old life was more important than their ability to pop just down the road for milk and fish bait.
Lori laughed. Either way, she knew she was well and truly screwed.
Jenny was in the kitchen when Lori, dripping wet and with Bob in tow got back to the shop.
‘Well hello there you two! Looks like you are making a new friend eh?’ Jenny winked at Lori before giving her a squeeze. ‘Oh! You’re all wet, you need to go and cha… Oh my word! Is that your underwear? How wicked.’
Lori looked down at the frilly outline of her lace bra under the wet vest, realising the view Zeb must have had as she’d laid prostrate in the sand. ‘Wow, umm, yes. Yes it is. Long story though.’
‘Oh don’t worry, I’m not one to pry darling. No, I leave that to the Twitchers’ Club.’ Jenny chuckled, causing her own ample bosom to jiggle up and down.
‘Twitchers’ Club?’ Lori wondered why the local bird watchers would be interested in her curious choice of swimwear.
‘As in curtain twitchers’ silly.’ Jenny giggled again. ‘They’ll be well and truly aflutter with the sightings of you and your new friend.’
‘Why on earth would a bunch of local gossip merchants care that Bob and I were hanging out together?’ Confused, Lori looked down at the dog making himself at home in a sunny spot on the kitchen floor. Her brain ached. Maybe she’d swallowed too much water.
‘Not Bob! I’m talking about our broody Sergeant Turner.’
Oh my god! If Jenny, who apparently didn’t pry, Lori found this hard to believe, had seen this morning’s farce unfold then no doubt the Twitchers’ Club as she’d called them had done so too. Any chance of persuading the locals that she was a fine upstanding citizen, with only the best interests of the village in mind, was probably long gone.
‘Actually Jenny, Zeb was filling me in on the ridiculous share system my father set up to seemingly entrap me here,’ Lori called out as she headed upstairs to go shower. Whilst in there she would need to work out how she could make a quick seventy thousand dollars.
‘Zebediah did? How strange. I thought Robert would have given you those details yesterday,’ Jenny called back.
‘You’d think so wouldn’t you? However, our meeting was a little briefer than perhaps it should have been so it didn’t come up. In fact, I’m going to head over there today to clarify a few things with him,’ Lori shouted as she stripped out of her wet clothes and stepped into the cubicle. The warm water provided instant relief, washing away the skin chafing sand that had worked its way into every one of her nooks and crannies.
‘Argh!’ Lori recoiled as Jenny’s face appeared on the other side of the cubicle. She tried to cover her dignity as best she could.
‘Goodness child, you think you have something in there that I don’t? Anyway I just came up to tell you that if you were planning on going to see Robert today it would be a wasted journey. He’s out of town.’
‘Oh? Well, I’ll go tomorrow then. I guess it can wait.’ Lori buried her face in the shower head to save her blushes.
‘It’ll have to wait longer than tomorrow darling,’ Jenny turned and headed back into the hallway, ‘Robert Matthison has gone away on his annual holiday. He’s been spending the entire month of December in Germany with a group of man friends, goodness only knows what for, every year since 1989. He won’t be back until the first week of January.’
‘Really?’ Lori laughed, although she wasn’t actually surprised, a well cut suit could hide a multitude of sins.
Lori knocked her head gently against the cold tiles. She desperately needed to think straight but too much information was whirling its way around inside her mind. It had been non-stop drama since stepping off the plane and despite having well-rounded multi-tasking skills she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.
She took a deep breath. All she really needed for now, was a list of the shareholders. And if Robert Matthison’s receptionist couldn't, or wouldn’t, give it to her then she'd just have to pay a visit to the Police Station. Once she had this, she could set about making herself a plan of action. One thing was for sure though; there was no way she would be able to make it home for Christmas.
‘Listen Lorikeet, I need to tell you something. Have a sit down a minute.’ Jenny pulled out a stool for Lori when she returned to the kitchen, sand free and dressed.
‘It’s ok, I know you have one of the shares.’ Lori pre-empted Jenny’s admission.
‘That damn Turner boy can be so tactless. It would have been nice if he’d let me come to you first.’ Jenny’s cheeks coloured with embarrassment.
‘Zeb didn’t tell me, I just guessed as much. As next door neighbour I can totally see why you wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be able to have a say in what happens to the shop. I understand, I really do.’ Lori smiled and patted Jenny’s clenched hands, reasonably confident that she wouldn’t be hardest shareholder nut to crack.
‘So you don’t know who else has a share?’
‘Not yet, no. Why do you?’ Lori asked. It’d save her a lot of hassle if she did.
‘Heavens no, I mean I have my suspicions but it’s been the only secret this village has ever managed to keep. Jack made it very clear to me that my investment would be completely confidential, and I would imagine he gave the same assurance to the others.’
‘Well, I’m going to head over to Green Bay, see if I can get Robert’s receptionist to give me a list of the names.’ Lori stood up.
‘I’ll give you a lift if you like?’
‘I need the walk, but thank you.’ Grabbing her bag, Lori headed out through the shop, picking up a bottle of water from the soft drink fridge as she went.
‘Lorikeet?’ Jenny followed her to the verandah. ‘Perhaps you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? My way of making it up to you for… well, you know.’
‘Sure, that’d be lovely. I’ll pop over around seven, if that suits?’
‘Perfect. I’ll see you then.’ Jenny gave her a little wave as Lori strode across the driveway and out onto the street.
It didn’t take long to get a list of the investors from the receptionist at Matthison, Walker & Young. It did however, come with a very stern warning from the masculine looking Maureen Walker, that any breach of privacy could seriously jeopardise any chance Lori may have in gaining the confidence of the shareholders, and this would almost certainly result in a majority vote against her selling.
The list had been handed to her in a sealed envelope and Lori tucked it into her bag. She’d open it later. First, she wanted to investigate a little Bakery she’d passed the other day on her unintentional detour.
Dough Raise Me stood out amongst the old weatherboard homes that surrounded it. Beautifully renovated it looked both out of place, but also perfectly situated at the same time. The tree lined street gently camouflaged its commercial nature and a charming cottage garden surrounding the converted house afforded its neighbour’s privacy.
‘Well, hello there!’ A friendly face behind the counter welcomed Lori as she stepped inside. A little bell on top of the door jangled as she closed it behind her.
‘What an absolutely stunning Bakery.’ Lori was captivated by the floor to ceiling racks of artisan bread behind the counter, which itself was a glass fronted chiller-cabinet filled with miniature sweet pastries.
An attractive girl standing behind it, wearing a crisp white apron embroidered with the business name in swirly font, smiled. ‘Your first time?’
Lori nodded and returned the smile. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like Willy Wonka for wheat lovers!’
The pretty assistant laughed. She had the most amazing green eyes and unlike Lori’s dirty blonde ponytail, her dark brown hair was silky smooth and tamed neatly over one shoulder.
‘My name’s Kristy,’ she extended her hand, ‘are you just passing through Green Bay?’
Lori took her hand and shook it. Even her nails were perfect.
‘If only. I’ve actually just inherited the local store in Murfey’s Beach, and was passing by on my way back from the Solicitors. I arrived on the weekend.’
‘Gosh, you lucky lucky thing! I’ve been past your store. It has such enormous potential. You must be so excited.’
‘Excited? Hell no! I can’t wait to sell the place and get back to my life in the UK.’ Lori took a swig on her now lukewarm bottle of water.
Kristy looked shocked. ‘You’re kidding right? Why would you want to sell?’
Tired of the recent drama Lori felt she really had nothing more to lose, and so she gave Kristy the unabridged version of her predicament.
In return Lori learnt how Kristy and her husband had moved to Green Bay eighteen months ago, having given up their well-paid jobs in Sydney, to follow a dream they had of opening their own business. It hadn’t always been their aspiration. They’d both been quite happy earning a comfortable living, working hard and moving up their respective career ladders. But quite unexpectedly, Simon, a senior level stocks trader had taken up baking bread in a strange form of nervous breakdown a few years ago. Kristy explained how she’d come home one Monday evening to find he’d not gone into work that day. Their kitchen was filled with two dozen different breads. He never really reintegrated back into the workplace very well and so together they begun planning a complete change of direction for their lives. They took night courses on baking and scoured the internet for the ideal premises. The old Bakery in Green Bay had been closed for years and when the owner passed away Kristy and Simon had picked up the property for a steal compared to Sydney prices. With no children and a very healthy savings account they moved in and renovated, replaced old machinery and using Kristy’s expertise in Marketing, found a few key supply contracts. Between these, the local and passing tourist trade they made enough to cover their costs. It was a far cry from their previous life, but one Kristy said, that they wouldn’t change for anything.
‘You know Lori,’ Kristy spoke between mouthfuls of their Sew Seedy loaf she’d cut and spread with butter for them to share, ‘you should absolutely take some of our bread to sell in your store.’
With her cheeks bulging Lori gave a non-committal shrug. She didn’t want to offend her, but highly doubted she could sell anything in the store, no matter how delicious it was.
Kristy must have read her thoughts. ‘I mean, from what you tell me it could be a complete flop, but surely Murfey’s residents eat bread don’t they? And if they’re all heading down to Fisherman’s Bay for their weekly shop then they’re probably all eating frozen white sliced toast for breakfast. I certainly don’t see them in here.’