Chapter 21
Tim
Oh, the legs.
This morning, Sunday, we were knocking off all the old kitchen tiles.
Tabs had on another floral combo. She seemed to be getting more confident by the day, maybe because she’d become instant friends with Poppy.
Today’s skirt was even shorter and flouncier and flirted around her thighs.
I was sold. And her bow top was unbuttoned just a little more.
She was also grinning. I thought maybe it was about her new outfit, but it could have been something else.
Poppy turned up to freshen her makeup for the next scene.
“You looked so pretty yesterday with that pink blush, I’m going to do it again. What do you think? Did you get a chance to check out the videos on the production website?”
A sick twinge screwed into my side. Poppy’s voice was casual but had a slight worried edge to it. Seemingly unalarmed, Tabs smiled over Poppy’s head as she dusted Tabs’s cheeks with her brush.
“Just do what you think, Pops. No, I haven’t seen the vids. I don’t want to be distracted by them.”
“So, you haven’t read the comments either?” Poppy was definitely trying to spark Tabs’s curiosity.
Tabitha’s shoulders tensed. “I’m too busy, and honestly, I don’t want to spend any more time stressing about the show.”
Those bloody comments. I tugged my phone from my back pocket.
More brush-offs from the execs I’d emailed and called yesterday.
Nothing they could do about it, not their remit, freedom of opinion cannot be interfered with.
And the totally dismissive, “Kindly consult the social media clause in your contracts. Further discussion is inappropriate. Please refrain from placing us in this awkward position again.” I’d gotten to the end of my list of execs, but I’d keep on at them and keep commenting on my fake handle, defending her and highlighting her strengths.
Maybe a lawyer could find a way to get the comments deleted through some clause in our contracts.
Poppy left, and Tabitha went back to smiling and hummed happily. My phone rang, and I pressed answer, still distracted by what might have put that smile on Tabitha’s face. I wanted to make her smile like that.
“Hi, Tim, Blake Currington here. How are you?”
Blake Currington, owner of the national building firm? His company was technically one of my competitors in the county, but not really, as I had a much better reputation and a lot more business. Why was the big boss calling me?
“Good, thanks,” I answered. “Busy.”
I was usually pretty good at the back-and-forth bullshitting, but I was tired and needed to crack on, though I was curious about his call.
“Okay,” Blake said. “I imagine you are very busy. Scratch that. I know you’re busy because we’re well aware of how many more jobs you have than us.”
I laughed but felt slightly cagey. I had no idea where Blake was going with this.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” he went on. “We want to make an offer for your business.”
I sat up straight in my seat.
“What do you mean—an offer?” I asked.
“We want to buy your business. You would have to be available as a consultant for two years after the sale, but after that, you would be free. We think your firm would be a valuable addition to our new brand, which is offering a more local experience.”
Blake’s firm did not have a great reputation. It was known to cut corners and cheap out on customers, and they were stingy with employee benefits. For them, starting a rebranded subsidiary made sense. I imagined they’d pretend this new business wasn’t like the parent company.
“Tim, we are keen. You’ve got a great company.
And you are already popular on social media, and this new show of yours hasn’t even aired.
We love the brand visibility you’ve already achieved.
” Ugh. He was partly attracted by the new interest that had come my way.
Not the sort of attention that should matter in a serious builder’s mind.
“Of course, our first offer is negotiable, but we want to offer you two million pounds.”
Shit. The payment would pay for years of Mum’s care at ten thousand pounds a month.
My worries would be over. My business was going well, but my profits had been rolled into future building projects, which was why I needed this cash prize.
But I couldn’t even consider accepting Blake’s offer.
My customers and workers would suffer, my name would be mud, and I couldn’t start another business in this county.
“I don’t want to waste your time,” I said, more shortness in my tone than I’d intended. “I don’t think your proposal is going to work for me.”
“Playing hardball, eh, Tim? I like it. Okay. What’s your number?”
“No, I mean I don’t want to sell. And I have to go. But please, this call can’t go any further than us. I don’t want my employees or clients or prospective clients thinking I might be considering selling.”
“Oh, believe me, this goes no further. I never make an offer public if I don’t know for certain it’s going to go through. Always be winning, that’s my motto. That’s what people expect of me, Tim.”
Always be winning. What a prat. I hung up.
“Fuck.” I slid my phone in my pocket. Tabs fixed me with a questioning look. “A nationwide firm wants to buy my business. Two million pounds. Just between you and me.”
Her eyes widened. “Mum’s the word. Wow. Congratulations, Tim.”
“Nah, I’d never sell to that guy. He’s bad news—not a good boss and not a good builder.” I waved away the thought of him and focused back on her. “Hey, I noticed you’re in a good mood this morning.”
“I’m always in a good mood.” She shook her shoulders with a little sass.
“You’re always in a good mood when you’re taking the piss out of me, and that hasn’t happened yet.”
“Timmy, I know you’re kind of a big deal around this teeny-weeny country village with how you can throw a ball and kick a ball and…whatever else you do with those little balls of yours. But my happiness does not hinge on your presence.” She grinned and flicked her hair.
My spine crawled with indignation, and I squared my shoulders and thrust my head back. I opened my mouth to protest that part of my anatomy was anything but small. You idiot. What are you? Fifteen years old?
Instead, I shrugged casually.
“And you’re always very welcome to come and watch me play rugby,” I said. “And learn more about this game that seems to fascinate you. I have a match right after filming today, actually.”
“Thank you for that invitation. I’m sure it’s a real treat for all those women hanging around on the sidelines waiting breathlessly for you to run to the big sticks at the end.
And then there’s the super-fun after-match function in the clubrooms, drinking beer and listening to you rehash all that running to the sticks.
But turns out, I’d rather stay home and stick pins into my eyes. ”
“Taking the piss out of me?” I asked. “Smile on your face? See? I was right.”
She rolled her eyes but went back to smiling.
“Okay. I am quite excited, because I just heard last night that I landed an exclusive interview with the Wainwright brothers. You know, those guys who developed West City in London? We’ll meet up over a week, and they’re taking me out to a different restaurant in the complex every night.
It’s taken a year to get them to agree to be interviewed, but it’s finally happening. ”
“Congratulations.” I raised my eyebrows.
That was huge. Those brothers were always in building trade magazines I subscribed to.
And I’d read about them in Tabs’s newspaper in the gossip column.
They were considered hot. Very alpha. And they were both single.
And she was spending a week with them. Hmm.
“And before that, we’re doing a pullout magazine spread this weekend of the country’s top designers.
Not the fusty old-white-man old-school ones.
The ones no one else features and take more work to dig up.
I worked so hard on it, and the articles are fresh and the photos are different, and it’s going in full color every page.
All cleared by the editor, an enormous deal. ”
I could feel a huge grin burst on to my face.
I was so massively proud of her. One of Tabs’s employees and friends, Isla, who used to be an investigative journalist, often spoke about what a total star Tabs was and how good she was at her job.
Although I didn’t know anything about newspapers or good writing, I loved her pages.
I was about to congratulate her when her phone buzzed on the table. She pulled it out and checked it.
“Oh, this is the graphic designer now,” she said. “Hello, Robert? Oh?” She listened. “What? But why… We went through this. Can’t we just— No, but please? Can’t we? All right, so you’re saying three pages won’t have color after all?” She sighed. “Okay, okay.”
She rang off and slumped against the wall.
I waited for a few seconds. “Why do you do that?” I asked. My pride in her was overtaken by concern over how quickly she’d caved to this obnoxious employee.
She looked at me, her face screwed up. “Do what?”
“Let people ride roughshod over you. This was already cleared by the editor, and yet this graphic designer says no, and you just accept it?”
“That’s not how newspapers work, Tim.”
She was right. I didn’t know anything about her business. “I’m not criticizing you, Tabs.”
“Yes, you actually are.”
“Well, I didn’t mean for it to come across like that. Look, Isla says your section pays the salaries for most of the newspaper’s staff, and you have a lot of power. You should use it to your advantage. I’m just saying, don’t put up with this shit.”
“You make it sound so easy. I have to work with this guy, and he’s a right vindictive tosspot and can make my life very tricky if he chooses to.”
I shrugged. “You’re the boss. Just tell him to do it. And if he objects, say you’ll go over his head.”
“Oh, it’s that easy, is it? Thank you so much for mansplaining how to be a boss to me. Look, you might know something about the building industry, taking a hard line with people, but that doesn’t fly where I work.”
I took an angry breath. She was lashing out at me, being defensive, just when I was trying to help her.
But was I? I was making myself sound like I was always uncompromisingly confident and thick-skinned.
I used to be, but lately, that wasn’t quite as true.
For a start, I should never have employed my best friend’s nephew. I should never have taken on this job.
“Tabitha, it’s not easy for me either. On Monday, I had to fire someone who happens to be a nephew of one of my best friends.
And now, I’ll see this kid at all my friend’s barbecues and gatherings and at my games and bear the brunt of my friend’s anger and his brother’s remarks that I’m an arsehole.
So, I know actions come with consequences, but sometimes you have to lay a hard line. ”
“Well, you’re the one who wanted to stay in this bloody small town,” she mumbled, but her eyes had understanding in them, and I hoped she saw that I hadn’t intended my remarks to be critical. I just didn’t want to see her treated like this.
“Does that mean I should lay a harder line with you too?” She narrowed her eyes at me but with a hint of playfulness.
“You’re already hard enough, but why don’t you call back that graphic designer guy and pretend like you’re talking to me? You have no trouble giving me what for.”
She gave me a long, thoughtful look but didn’t answer.
Tapping her teeth, she consulted her plans for what was a ridiculously long time, considering both of us knew them backward.
I continued chipping away at the backsplash in the kitchen, pulling off the tiles, checking on her out of the corner of my eye.
Ten minutes later, she wandered very quietly into the library. I moved closer to the closed door, checking she was okay.
“Hi, Robert. I was giving your call some thought, and I’m sorry, but the editor agreed to the full-color pages, so it will be done. And there will be no further discussion.”
I was stunned she’d taken my advice, and then a burst of pride exploded in my chest. She’d done it, even if she needed to picture me at the other end of that tense call. Either she was perpetually annoyed and angry at me, or maybe she felt comfortable enough around me to be confident.
I heard movement from behind the door, so I hurried away, pulled the tape measure from my pocket, and started to measure the wall of the hallway. She emerged through the door, bouncy and smiley.
“Everything okay?” I asked innocently.
“Yep.” She popped the P.
She wrapped her arms behind her back and swayed from side to side with a secret smile on her face. I could say I told you so, but my chest felt as pumped up as a tight balloon, which felt suspiciously like pure joy that she felt good about herself and was back to happy again.
MAKEOVER YOUR MONEYMAKER, sneak peek.
Four design teams compete to turn a home into a business.
Team: Tim and Tabitha.
3,000 Comments:
1HardMan: Bit desperate now, darling, with the short skirts.
CotswoldsOwn: Does she have the legs for that length? Not judging, just wondering…
TeamTimFTW342: Seems like Tim is doing it all. She’s on the phone a lot to her newspaper.
IWantTimToNailMe2: Hmm… Does she even do much at her newspaper? She’s never on their socials.
GirlBossesDoItBetter: Tabitha works day and night designing, making constant calls to suppliers, and hauling out the debris. No one works harder. No one.
DramaFarmer: What a pigs’ breakfast. Apologies to the pigs Pinky and Perky, who look as though they could manage it better. They will never finish in time.
LlamasRLife: Never mind the pigs, that llama has got real star power. Did you see it laughing in the background? Now that’s charisma.