A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (inspirational books for students .txt) 📗

it’s not losing weight you didn’t need to drop or a PB at the gym. And it’s definitely not our sex life.’

Annoyance added more waves to her already choppy sea of emotions. Something about the glint in his eyes made her tense. ‘Let me guess. You’ve got a solution?’

His smile was pure indulgence. ‘There are plenty of things to challenge your big brain at the store and make you feel good about yourself again. I’d love it if you took your great eye for design and expanded the paint section into an interior design service.’

‘I’m not a qualified interior designer.’

‘Pfft! Look around. You’ve got an eye most designers would kill for. Why not formalise what you did for Shan and Chris and what you’re currently doing for Vivian Leppart? It will be good for you.’ He radiated excitement. ‘Let’s set up an appointment system and get Hoopers Interior Design off the ground. We’ll offer ten per cent off any decorating stock clients buy. It gives us another niche over the big boys. The personal touch.’

I want a partner. His words hammered her. Not a wife or a lover, but a partner. A business partner. Jon wanted her at work but not in bed. Her already grazed heart lost another layer and blood bubbled freely.

‘That’s quite a challenge.’

But Jon missed the tartness in her voice and smiled at her. ‘You’ll ace it.’

Once she would have floated on the compliment, but not now. Not when it put her firmly in the role of an employee.

‘The first challenge is the community garden,’ she said. ‘Interior design will have to be the second.’

But it was a lie. She knew exactly what her next challenge would be and it didn’t involve Jon or interior design.

She walked into the bathroom, closed the door and texted Zac.

Hey partner! I’m all in for Project M. Tx

She stared at the x, surprised to see it there—all her previous texts to Zac she’d signed TH.

What are you doing?

Justifying to herself that as marathon training wasn’t part of their client–trainer relationship and no money would be changing hands, she was just signing off like she did with any friend, she pressed send.

A second later her phone pinged. Awesome! Planning meeting this afternoon?

Great!

Delight lifted the heaviness that had settled over her during her conversation with Jon. For the first time in a long time she felt like a woman and she hugged the sensation close, never wanting it to fade.

Exhilaration tangoed with resignation as Tara parked outside the community garden. Her mind was full of her upcoming meeting with Zac and she really didn’t want to be here. She was still pinching herself that he believed she could run a marathon, and now she’d committed she didn’t want to waste any time—she wanted to start now! But she’d promised Jon she’d come to the garden and Zac wasn’t free until three so …

She sighed and picked up the post-it note Jon had given her with the name of the woman she was to meet. His handwriting had never been good, but even by his standards this was more chicken scratchings than words. She couldn’t decipher it. ‘Great going, Jon.’

Forcing herself out of the car, she was walking towards the ornamental gates when she heard a female voice calling out, ‘Hello.’

She turned. ‘Helen?’ She didn’t really know Helen beyond exchanging pleasantries on the few occasions she caved in to the kids’ pester power and bought fish and chips. She glanced at the post-it and realised the scrawled I I e I e I could be Helen if Jon had connected the letters. ‘Am I supposed to be meeting you?’

The older woman smiled. ‘If you’re Mrs Hooper as well as Clemmie and Flynn’s mum.’

She shot out her hand. ‘Call me Tara.’

‘Thanks for coming, Tara. I really appreciate your time. Can I give you a tour and introduce you to the women?’

‘That sounds lovely, but I’m a bit pressed for time. How about you tell me what you need and show me where we can hang some signs.’

Helen frowned. ‘We could reschedule to a more convenient time.’

Tara didn’t want to be here now, let alone returning another day. ‘That would only slow things down and I’m sure you want the stock sooner rather than later.’

‘If you’re sure … We’ve got a needs list and a wish list.’

‘Give me your entire list in order of priority.’

‘Gardening gloves, soaker hoses and connectors, shovels, spades, trowels, rakes, hoes, weeders, two wheelbarrows, timber or recycled plastic for bed borders, compost bins, blood and bone, soil conditioner, seaweed liquid fertiliser, secateurs, seedlings, a shed, a propagating greenhouse, water tanks, an irrigation system …’ As Helen talked and Tara typed on her phone, they walked away from the ornamental gates. ‘We were thinking here for the sign.’

Tara looked up. They were standing in front of a fence that was below the sight line from a car. Tara cast a practised eye around the area. It had been years since she’d been here—not since she and Jon had installed the pool and removed any reason to swim in the river. It didn’t look like a lot had changed. Cattle and horses still grazed on the old experimental farm and the road remained unsealed. Whenever there was a work experience student at The Standard, the editor always sent them to interview the councillors about plans for the land. Inevitably, an article was written with the headline What’s Next For Riverfarm? Then a flurry of letters followed before the topic fell silent again.

Tara pointed to the intersection. ‘Could we erect a sign on that corner? I’m thinking two metres by one and a half resting on one-point-seven poles. It would catch the eye of passing traffic.’

‘As well as on the fence?’

‘Instead of on the fence.’

‘That’s bigger than I thought.’

Tara squashed the urge to say, do you want our help or not? ‘I promise the sign will be tasteful. It will have our logo and say Hoopers Hardware, Timber and Steel is proud to