off looking for a potentially acceptable buyer?’ Lori swigged the last of her tea.
‘You could,’ Jenny drew out her words.
‘What? You don't believe it's possible?’
‘I didn’t say that Lori, I just think finding someone to buy the place over Christmas, someone who isn’t a fly in fly out developer wanting to rip the place down and replace it with a three storey concrete monstrosity, could be a little, umm, tricky perhaps?’
‘Well, you haven’t seen me at my finest then.’ Lori patted Jenny on her hand and stood up, brushing the grass off of the backs of her legs and bottom.
Jenny half laughed, catching the jokey self-depreciation in Lori's voice. ‘No, dear. No I have not.’
Buoyed by her definitive decision making Lori skipped back into the shop eager to get things underway. First things first, she put a call in to the solicitor requesting seven Notice of Stakeholder Meeting letters be drawn up immediately. She would pick them up before they closed at five o’clock and personally hand-deliver them all later this evening. Next, she set about organising herself a proper office to work from.
The unused space at the far end of the kitchen worked perfectly once Lori cleared away the boxes of excess stock that were blocking a view straight down the garden. Another table similar to those she had found stacked under the deck was unveiled once two hundred, individually wrapped toilet rolls were given a new home in the corner of the large empty room behind the shop. The table was rectangular and pushed neatly under the window, a stool from beside the kitchen counter made do as a chair for now and Lori practically jogged up and back down the stairs with her laptop, setting it up in the middle of the makeshift desk.
As a Personal Assistant Lori had been used to always being busy. She was accustomed to feeling useful, indispensable even. Crazy as it was, she missed her sticky notes and paperclips, they were who she was. An organiser. This last week away from work had felt like an era, she realised now just how much self-pity and bitterness she’d wallowed in.
Something Jonah had said last night reverberated in her mind, about how she was lucky Zeb was there for her. Hah! She didn’t need Zeb, or anyone else for that matter. Lori had been looking after herself for years. Even during the times she’d had a boyfriend, it was she who had been the dependable one, the one that paid the bills, hosted the parties and coordinated the weekends away. This project, although admittedly much bigger, needed to be approached no differently.
FoxyNonna’s signal was still going strong and so Lori fired up her emails and the internet. She needed to speak to Sara and she had a mammoth to do list to write.
Quickly running her initial ideas past Sara via video chat, Lori was left with the confidence that she had all the skills necessary to make it work. Promising to send Sara daily updates as she progressed she logged back off her laptop and went next door in search of Jenny. She needed to ask a favour.
‘Of course you can borrow the car!’ Jenny was delighted to see Lori looking so bright eyed and focussed. She gave her an enormous batch of cookies baked fresh at lunch time, and made her promise not to skip meals anymore.
Lori didn’t believe she had been, but according to the doctor’s report to Zeb, and his subsequent report to Jenny this morning, Lori’s low blood sugar levels indicated she’d not been eating enough.
Exercising more than she ever had done in the past decade, added to missing out on the perks of long boozy lunches with Max and his clients, meant her calorific intake had reduced dramatically. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. But mixed with the emotional stress Lori had yielded to, it was really no surprise she’d passed out on the discovery that her dead father was still ‘hanging around’ in the kitchen of the first person she’d ever met with the
‘You could,’ Jenny drew out her words.
‘What? You don't believe it's possible?’
‘I didn’t say that Lori, I just think finding someone to buy the place over Christmas, someone who isn’t a fly in fly out developer wanting to rip the place down and replace it with a three storey concrete monstrosity, could be a little, umm, tricky perhaps?’
‘Well, you haven’t seen me at my finest then.’ Lori patted Jenny on her hand and stood up, brushing the grass off of the backs of her legs and bottom.
Jenny half laughed, catching the jokey self-depreciation in Lori's voice. ‘No, dear. No I have not.’
Buoyed by her definitive decision making Lori skipped back into the shop eager to get things underway. First things first, she put a call in to the solicitor requesting seven Notice of Stakeholder Meeting letters be drawn up immediately. She would pick them up before they closed at five o’clock and personally hand-deliver them all later this evening. Next, she set about organising herself a proper office to work from.
The unused space at the far end of the kitchen worked perfectly once Lori cleared away the boxes of excess stock that were blocking a view straight down the garden. Another table similar to those she had found stacked under the deck was unveiled once two hundred, individually wrapped toilet rolls were given a new home in the corner of the large empty room behind the shop. The table was rectangular and pushed neatly under the window, a stool from beside the kitchen counter made do as a chair for now and Lori practically jogged up and back down the stairs with her laptop, setting it up in the middle of the makeshift desk.
As a Personal Assistant Lori had been used to always being busy. She was accustomed to feeling useful, indispensable even. Crazy as it was, she missed her sticky notes and paperclips, they were who she was. An organiser. This last week away from work had felt like an era, she realised now just how much self-pity and bitterness she’d wallowed in.
Something Jonah had said last night reverberated in her mind, about how she was lucky Zeb was there for her. Hah! She didn’t need Zeb, or anyone else for that matter. Lori had been looking after herself for years. Even during the times she’d had a boyfriend, it was she who had been the dependable one, the one that paid the bills, hosted the parties and coordinated the weekends away. This project, although admittedly much bigger, needed to be approached no differently.
FoxyNonna’s signal was still going strong and so Lori fired up her emails and the internet. She needed to speak to Sara and she had a mammoth to do list to write.
Quickly running her initial ideas past Sara via video chat, Lori was left with the confidence that she had all the skills necessary to make it work. Promising to send Sara daily updates as she progressed she logged back off her laptop and went next door in search of Jenny. She needed to ask a favour.
‘Of course you can borrow the car!’ Jenny was delighted to see Lori looking so bright eyed and focussed. She gave her an enormous batch of cookies baked fresh at lunch time, and made her promise not to skip meals anymore.
Lori didn’t believe she had been, but according to the doctor’s report to Zeb, and his subsequent report to Jenny this morning, Lori’s low blood sugar levels indicated she’d not been eating enough.
Exercising more than she ever had done in the past decade, added to missing out on the perks of long boozy lunches with Max and his clients, meant her calorific intake had reduced dramatically. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. But mixed with the emotional stress Lori had yielded to, it was really no surprise she’d passed out on the discovery that her dead father was still ‘hanging around’ in the kitchen of the first person she’d ever met with the
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