All They Need(44)
“Great.” Flynn slid the key to the Aston free from the ring and handed it over.
“Mel said you’ve got a bit of a green thumb.”
“That’s right.”
Mike shook his head. “Gotta say, I don’t get it. If I had my way the whole yard at home would be concrete. No mowing, no weeds.”
“I suppose you’d paint that concrete green, too, huh?” Flynn asked.
Mike’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I hadn’t given it that much thought, but I probably would.”
“You know there’s that artificial grass you can get now, right? Stays green all year round. It’s a whole level up from green concrete.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.” Mike glanced over his shoulder toward the workshop. “Leave your details with Stacy, I’ll be in touch.”
“Just so you know, I may not be able to pick the car up again this week. So if it does need a tow in, you might be stuck with it over the weekend.”
“We can deliver the car to you in Melbourne if you like. We do that for a few of our customers.”
“Yeah? That would be a load off, I don’t mind admitting.”
“Consider it done. Thanks for the business, Flynn.” Mike gave him a nod before heading back into the workshop.
Flynn passed his business card to Stacy, grabbed a Village Motors card from the stack on the counter and exited to the street.
At least he knew where Mel had gotten her dry sense of humor. He crossed the pavement to his father’s car, thinking about the fact that Mel had mentioned him to her family. It was deeply pathetic, but he wished he could have asked what else Mel had said about him, apart from the fact that he’d bought Summerlea and was into gardening.
How old are you exactly?
It was a good question. The thing was, Mel made him feel young and stupid again.
He was still trying to work out whether this was a good thing or not when his phone rang, sucking him into yet another work issue, and, as usual, everything else in his life got pushed into the background.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FLYNN WAS SNOWED UNDER for the next few days, working to beat the deadline for a tender on a government housing project. He was still shoveling his way through his in-tray on Wednesday when his assistant stuck her head in the door.
“Flynn. I’ve got Mel Porter on the phone. She’s delivering your car and wondered where you’d like it parked. Shall I direct her to your spot or tell her to leave it in guest parking?”
He’d been hunched over his desk going over a specification chart but he straightened immediately. “Mel?” he repeated stupidly.
“That’s what she said.”
He was unprepared for the flood of pleasure and anticipation he felt at the thought of seeing her again. “Put her through.”
She returned to her desk and a few seconds later his phone rang.
“Mel.”
“Hi. Sorry to disturb you. I only wanted to know where you would like the car parked but your secretary insisted on putting me through to you.”
“Why are you delivering my car? I thought some guy named Jimmy was going to do it?” He’d spoken to Mike the previous afternoon to make the arrangements.
“Jimmy has the flu and Dad didn’t want to hand your $300,000 car over to a pimply-faced eighteen-year-old who’s seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off one too many times.”
He grinned and sat back in his chair. “I can only applaud your father’s excellent judgment. How far away are you?”
“About ten minutes. Your secretary mentioned something about guest parking.”
“Turn into the entrance to the underground garage. The guest parking is immediately on your right. Reception’s on the ground floor. Let them know when you arrive and I’ll come down.”
“You don’t need to do that,” she said hastily. “You’re busy. I can drop the keys at Reception and leave you to it.”
“Or you could have lunch with me.”
“You don’t need to buy me lunch.”
“I want to.”
She was silent for a long moment. Probably trying to come up with an excuse.
“You must be busy,” she said lamely. “I don’t want to mess up your day.”
“I’ll see you in ten minutes, Mel.”
He thought for a minute after he’d hung up, then buzzed his secretary. “Mary, what’s the name of that new Spanish place everyone’s talking about in St. Kilda?”