Previously, On Concrete Shelves...
- Marina Thurlow Bauer, has been dealing with her son, Henry, growing up and spending time away from her. Her step-mother, Caitlyn, offered her a job to occupy her time, however, Marina turned it down.
- Corey Wilkinson stole an important client from his niece, Greta, and potentially put her real estate agency in jeopardy. A confrontation between the two was less than satisfactory.
- The merger for Thurlow Industries has started to move forward with a much easier momentum, however, James’ concern with the differences between the blue and white collar employees could cause a rift…
Diary of A Woman Screaming in Silence
August 31st, 2027
On Concrete Shelves | Revisited
011
Now Town; Harper Smites Clinic
“Have you been practicing the exercises that we last spoke about?” Deborah Faulkner Nelson asks, she sits across from Marina, in a black spaghetti strapped maxi dress and a knitted cardigan thrown over it.
The tone in Deborah’s voice causes the younger woman to hold back with her response. She can tell that the question is less forward than one would think. Marina, after all, has been coming to Deb for therapy sessions since she was a teenager. So she ponders on how much information to give out.
“Tully has been helpful.” Marina replies.
Deborah’s eyes don’t leave their lock to Marina’s, but her hands scribble something down on a notebook sitting to her right. “How do you feel about Tully spending more time with Henry outside of your supervision?”
Another question in which Marina needs to ponder. There’s a hint of rosemary sifting through the air in Deborah’s office. Two weeks ago she had changed the scent from her usual vanilla lavender blend, and it has become a distraction for her mind to process what is truth from what is the little white lie she has been telling everyone.
“Marina?”
Marina jolts from her thoughts and pulls on a smile. “I didn’t think it would be possible. But, Tully has really helped me process my fears of Henry and I being separated for long periods of time.”
She watches nervously as Deborah studies her, and the response, as just. Having the therapist help her through her past trauma’s has been a god send. Marina doesn’t know how she would’ve coped with the miscarriages, or being held hostage by her uncle-by-marriage, Mathias, without Deborah’s help. It almost makes lying to the woman extremely wrong, complex.
“How has Tully been of help this past week?”
“She took Henry to the stables while I spoke with my father,” and I couldn’t keep myself from counting each second that we were apart. “It was nice of her to do so, we were able to have an adult conversation without the toddler around, and, the other day I was able to take a nap while she took him down the street to collect out mail,” lies. She tells herself. Little white lies.
There’s a beat shared between the two of them. Marina can tell that Deborah is studying her, as if she were some famous painting, as if she were on full display.
Deborah leans forward. “How do you feel towards Tully when she’s carrying for Henry without you present?”
“I—,” she pauses, for a moment she blanks out. The scent of rosemary completely engulfs her senses. “I guess I feel thankful for Tully. I don’t know how it begun, but I sort of trust her with Henry.”
Deborah pushes her body back and straightens her posture. “Very well, I think your vulnerability is admirable. I know that it can feel somewhat hostile of me to ask you to perform some of these exercises. You’re allowed to feel apprehensive, but I can tell that you’re making progress.”
“Tully — and Ryan,” Marina quickly corrects, “have both been helping me ease into this new adventure of ours with Henry starting school in the near future. I can’t thank you enough for all the help, of course.”
Deborah reaches out her hand and taps it upon Marina’s own. “Your family has done nothing but help, I am just doing my part in helping as well. I want to see you well rested, Marina, we all do. But I want to see it the most.”
Sage Gardens; Wilkinson-Fowler Commercial Real Estate
The small speaker that Lark had installed last year is connected to Greta’s phone. She told Lark that it was foolish to invest in something like that, but today Greta spent about thirty minutes coming up with a playlist while Lark was away checking-in with a client.
The soft tune of Corinne Bailey Rae’s Like A Star, fills the room as she looks out the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and onto the street. A few people line the sidewalks of the usual busy downtown area, she can see the Stone Creek Community Park in the distance. Though if she was being honest, the Summer’s heat made the park look less than satisfying today.
She’s interrupted by the chime of the entrance door opening and thinking she would be getting good news from Lark, she turns with a smile on her face. Only to see her uncle, Corey, standing there in a three piece suit.
Greta slumps in her chair.
“That doesn’t sound like you’re happy to see me.” Corey Wilkinson speaks, there’s an arrogance to his tone, though, she thinks that it may just be her own interpretation after the hijinks that he pulled over her.
The bitterness feels like a second layer of skin sitting upon her own. “I just figured… after our last encounter.”
“I wanted to apologize.” Corey offers.
Greta can’t think of anything else but to take in a deep breath of air. Then she lets it out through her mouth, and gritted teeth. “I’m no longer looking for apologies from you. I just don’t think it would be satisfying. I still don’t think I will get over a family member screwing me over like that. But, heck, I’ve been through worse, right?”
She thinks back to the time Rodney Burnett had kidnapped her and held her in one of the homes she was the listing agent for. The smell of his sweat and cigarettes comes wafting back.
“Greta.”
She shakes her head. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about? Or are you here to steal more of my clients and their buildings?”
The words linger longer than they should. Or maybe not long enough. Greta hears the sound of her email notifications going off and maneuvers herself to face her computer. Another offer has come through, but nothing substantial. She then blocks the screen from her uncle.
“What did your boss end up doing with that building, anyway?” She asks in curiosity. Greta has an idea, a friend had let it slip that the entire building hasn’t even been leased out yet. Though she finds that odd, her new perspective on her uncle leaves things up in the air.
Corey nods, a smirk upon his face. “Greta.”
“Don’t Geta me, Uncle Corey,” she snips, “what’s going on with that building, I know that it hasn’t been leased out.”
She can tell that this particular sentence has caught his interest. “We are waiting on the right opportunity, is all.”
“There’s a commercial boom right now. You can’t tell me that a project that big, with that many amenities, is just sitting on a shelf waiting for a ‘better opportunity’,” she scoffs. “Right now is the better opportunity, by the way, that’s why I was working on closing that deal.”
“I already apologized.”
Greta shakes it away. “I don’t want it. Not from you. I have things to do here, clients to reply to, buildings to secure — you should leave now.”
Corey nods. “I will make this up to you, somehow.”
“We’re way past that, uncle.” Greta snips.
Our Love. Our Fights. Our Friendships.
On Concrete Shelves.
Forever, They Shall Be Remembered.
Sage Gardens; Thurlow Lumber Mill
There’s a long drawn out silence between the two men in the office. They’ve spent the majority of the afternoon sifting through paperwork and procedures, mundanely boring things. The younger of the two, Baird Trammel, speaks up first.
He leans against a filing cabinet on the far side of the office. Baird is dressed in a pair of fitted wrangler jeans and a tight fitting green henley, which he has gotten three compliments on this morning, alone. “Do you think that we can get these files uploaded in time?”
Ryan Bauer looks up from his desk. He scoffs. “We could make more progress if you weren’t standing near that window and posing for all the ladies.”
“I’m not posing.”
Ryan tightens his lips and shakes his head with a chuckle. “Then would you mind telling me exactly what it is that you are doing?”
Baird shrugs. He straightens his posture and fixes his shirt as he does this. “I guess I just got distracted. Boss Man hasn’t been around in a few weeks. He came and did that whole brain-storming thing with us and then,” he exaggerates his hands, “he just doesn’t show back up. Just sends us an email about uploading all the production sheets by tonight.”
“You think that is odd in what way?”
“Not that it is odd… I guess I was hoping for more action to be taken around here. Last time we talked about things you said you would bring it up to him — don’t mistake things — I am grateful that he listens to us… I guess, I just thought we would’ve spoken to him about the upgrades around here?”
This gets Ryan to lean back in his chair. “Upgrades to the Mill are usually done annually at the beginning of the year — they’re determined by the production of the previous year which if you would help me with the production sheets, is something we can prepare for the beginning of next year.”
"Noted."
Ryan sighs. “We are going through a merger right now. The best thing that James can do is keep us from having to cut down on production — or even layoff any of our hardworking people. I know that you have reservations over that. But trust me, he cares about the blue collar workers that have built this company.”
“I trust you.”
“But?” Ryan says
Baird tilts his head and folds his arms. “I have spent a lot of time around corporate types. I used to bartend at Sysphean’s before I became your partner-in-crime up here in the overseers office.” Baird flashes a smile, quickly, then frowns. “I don’t trust the people making the decisions at the top.”
“Yet you trust me, the guy married to the daughter of the man making the decisions at the top?” Ryan raises an eyebrow.
This causes the room to fall silent.
Sage Gardens; Granger Grove Gated Community
Bauer Residence
Marina Thurlow finds herself seated on the lounge chair in the living room. The morning had blended into the afternoon and now that the sun was starting to set so has her energy. She has spent the majority of the day organizing some important documents for a case that her aunt Diem is working on. Filing paperwork wasn’t what she had on her list of things that inspired her, but, alas, it was moving her in the right direction.
The mood of the room seemed drought. The record player her brother, Emmet, had gifted her sits in the corner of the living room playing ‘I Want You to Love Me’ by Fiona Apple at a low hum, just enough for her to mouth the lyrics as she worked.
“I was able to get him into the bathtub,” the trailing voice of Tully Joplin makes its way into the room, followed by the teenaged girl in a pair of A-Line Jeans and a lime green graphic tee with the image of a raccoon digging in a trashcan. “So we have about twenty minutes until he yells out for a bedtime story.”
“Don’t worry,” Tully adds. “I made sure the water was nowhere near drowning level. It’s a puddle at best.”
Marina frowns, but finds herself amused by the younger girl. “Thanks, Tully, what would I ever do without you here helping us out?” She turns back to the files sprawled out onto the table and couch in her vicinity.
Tallulah sucks her teeth. “You could actually let me help you out.”
“Excuse me?” Marina looks back up from her work.
The teenager steals a look back down the hall, probably making sure that Henry was still in the bathroom and not running around the hallway with a trail of bubbles and his naked butt like the last time. Then she moves further into the living room and finds a seat across from Marina.
“I don’t want to overstep my boundaries here. Your space. Consent. You know that I mean no harm.” Tully’s smile fades into a more serious stare. “But if I’m being honest you have been paying me to pretend to babysit Henry.”
Marina takes a deep breath. She knew hiring the smartest teenager at Stone Creek High would come back to bite her. She puts down the files and takes a deep breath. Taking a moment to think up a response, an excuse, a little white lie.
“I am not paying you to pretend to babysit Henry.” Marina replies, a statement she doesn’t know if she could truly stand behind.
Tully tilts her head. “It feels a lot like you are. Like. No cap. I know that you went through a lot in New York… I read the articles. So I don’t want you to feel like I’m coming at you like everyone else —“
“Tully.” Marina says, with more force than she meant. “You’re not pretending to babysit my son. You’re helping me figure out how to sift through all of my bullshit, if I’m being honest. The world is just moving around me faster than I care to admit.”
“You’re doing a lot better than my parents are.” Tully says. “They think if they stand still the world won’t keep moving without them. Stuck in their ways. But they’re old money, so, they’ll never need to move along with it.”
Marina offers a smile of comfort. She knows Tully’s family well. She has heard the stories of the Joplin and Thurlow feuds before they agreed to align long before she was born. The great legal empire that the cunning Joplin family had produced, and yet, she sits before one of them with the kindest of hearts.
She thinks back to her small squabbles with Tully’s older cousin, Olivia, and the thought takes her back to a time before Marina grew bones of worry within herself.
“You’re a brave kid Tully.”
“I think you’re pretty brave yourself.” Tully offers, before lifting herself up off the couch, “I should get back to Henry before the bathroom becomes a slip-and-slide addition to your home.”
“Tully,” Marina calls, the girl pauses at the hallway and turns back, “thank you for keeping my secret from everyone. For letting me pretend that I’m not wrong about everything. I promise, eventually, you’ll get to babysit Henry for real, soon.”
Tully nods her head. “You’ve got this. I’ll be here to help along the way. High-key can’t wait to see you through this.”
Sage Gardens; Wilkinson-Fowler Commercial Real Estate
“Was there anything else that you needed from me?” Lark Maverick asks, she lifts herself up from the chair near her desk and begins to collect her things. “I could stay a little longer if you’d like and maybe look over a few transactions for you?”
Greta Wilkinson-Fowler waves her off. “There’s no reason to do that. I was actually on my way out as well. I don’t think there’s anything we will be able to complete tonight that would be a major addition to the company.”
There’s a solemnness to the way she speaks that stops Lark. “Are you sure that everything is alright with you? After your uncle coming in hot earlier, I know how much your generation likes to just compartmentalize everything into those cute little boxes.”
“I don’t like the way you said ‘your generation’.”
“Yet you had no problem with the compartmentalizing part.” Lark laughs, taking note of this for a later discussion. “I still want to make sure that you’re good before you go home and shut off this side of you to spend time with your husband and children.”
“I’m fine.” Greta replies.
“That doesn’t assure me of nothing.”
This gets Greta to put her Teddy Blake suede purse back onto her desk. “Okay, fine, are we going to have this conversation right now?”
“Don’t get hostile, I’m just looking out.”
“I already told you that I am fine.”
Lark can see there’s something bubbling up here with her boss. Carefully she tries to help scoop up the spill over. “I know what you told me. I trust that when you walk through your front door that you will paint a smile upon your face and do everything that you’re supposed to do for your family. But come on, Greta, I know you better than fine.”
“Is this the speech?”
This gets a chuckle from the two of them. “It’s the speech that I have been rehearsing for sometime now. Like. I have been walking on eggshells around here.
Women like you and I have these expectations set upon us from outside sources. We have to put more into everything and we can’t show emotions the same way as everyone else. I just need you to know that you can tell me anything. Even if you don’t think I can take it.”
Greta clears her throat. “I’m not trying to control things. Or, hell, maybe I am?”
“You most definitely are trying to control everything around here.” Lark chuckles. “I just don’t know why you think that you have to. There’s a reason why you agreed to hire me when I came groveling all those years ago.”
“You can thank my brother for that. I hired you despite my reservations.” Greta admits. “I also hired you because I saw something in you that reminded me a lot of my younger self.”
Lark puts her hands out. “Then trust your younger self.”
Greta breathes in and tightens her jaw. A quick huff of breath later she tries to keep the smile off of her face. “I should show you the door right about now but I can’t help myself from letting you continue. Because if I have to admit it to myself, you have a point here.”
“Good!” Lark gleams. “Now tell me exactly how you feel.”
.:On Concrete Shelves:.
Sage Gardens; Granger Grove Gated Community
“Oh, honey, I’m home!” Ryan Bauer calls out.
He is quickly shushed by the woman half-asleep on the couch. The floor is littered with files that she had been working on, a glass of wine near empty on the coffee table to her right.
She must’ve fallen asleep sometime after Tully had left for the evening. The monitor, that sits next to the wine glass, shows Henry fast asleep in his bed. Her heart starts to slow into a gentle hum.
“How long has he been out?”
Marina shrugs. “Tully read him a story about an hour ago, and then she left for the evening. I was able to get a few things done for aunt Diem before I fell asleep on the couch, though.”
Ryan kicks off his boots in the hallway before joining her in the center of the living room. “That was probably for the best, you haven’t been sleeping much. I took notice after your last session. How was this morning?”
He leans forward and kisses his wife. “The session was great. I think having Tully around has been a lot of help as well, maybe, we can offer her more and steal her away from the cafe.”
“Your sister won’t be happy about that.” Ryan replies.
This gets a nod from Marina. “Since when has Kirsten been happy about anything that I have done. Besides, even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t be able to compete with the tips she makes there.”
“Isn’t she just a buser?” Ryan frowns.
“That doesn’t matter, none of it matters.” Marina pulls her husband in for another kiss. She can smell the sweat of the office on him. But she pushes past her reservations and leans in closer. “All that matters is that you’re home now.”
“I’m home now.” Ryan echoes. He thinks back to his conversation with Baird and the animosity it left in the air. Ryan knows that the younger man means nothing bad about his opinion, but it does feel like they may be on opposite sides of things from here on out.
He notices his wife perk up in her seat and loses track of his thoughts as he watches her fingers hassling with the buttons of her blouse. “Maybe we can take some time for ourselves now that Henry is asleep?”
Ryan bites his lip. “I need a shower, darling.”
She takes his hands into her own, “I could always join you.”
Any anxiety he previously had is immediately thrown out the window as he knows that Marina rarely makes propositions like this, especially being so forward. Ryan leans in and seals the deal with a kiss, taking over the task of removing the blouse from her body.
However, before either of them could make it off of the couch, the soft whimper of their son, Henry, could be heard from his monitor. Knowingly, he grins at Marina as she pats his naked chest, and kisses his cheek.
“I’ll go check in on him.” Marina responds. “Maybe we can settle in after your shower?”
Though Ryan knows that his wife’s energy levels fluctuate drastically. The likelihood that he will get a second chance tonight is very low. He nods in agreement, even though he is betting on a losing horse.
Sage Gardens; Wilkinson Fowler Home
“What are my favorite two people doing over here?” Greta announces, she enters the dining room where both of her children are working quietly on their respective homework assignments; Ridge sits with his legs dangling off his chair and his tablet held firmly in his left hand, Hattie, is laser-focused on her laptop taking an English quiz.
Ridge responds first, though his eyes stay locked on the blue screen before him, “What does it look like we’re doing, mommy?”
“I have, like, five more quizzes to finish before bedtime.” Hattie responds directly after her brother.
Both answers don’t feel at all satisfying, though, complete. She lingers in the room in silence. Watching her children grow up has been both exhilarating and terrifying for Greta. There was a time when all she wanted was for them to be more independent so she could return to work… now, it feels as if the years are fleeting, held captive and constantly being taken away.
Greta sighs.
She hears commotion to her right, in the kitchen, and knows that it must be her husband cleaning up the dinner that Greta had misses once again. Satisfied with the amount of time she has lingered in the dining room, Greta, goes to find Miles.
Shockingly, however, once she enters the kitchen she finds her own mother standing in front of the kitchen sink washing dishes. Greta flashes back to the last time she had seen her phone, she doesn’t remember getting a text from either Miles or her mother about the drop-in.
Daphne Wilkinson chuckles. “I take it Miles didn’t text you about having to head back to the station?”
“You’re doing that thing again.” Greta replies, she relaxes her shoulders and joins her mother at the sink, picking up a towel to dry the dishes on the rack to put them away.
“What exactly is that?”
Greta smirks. “That thing where you read my mind and throw the question back at me. I was hoping to make it back home in time for dinner. I have just been really busy at the agency.”
“You’re not going to get any judgment from me.” Daphne responds, she hands her daughter a plate. “I know that your uncle Corey really put you in a tight spot after that stunt that he pulled. I also know that you tend to bury yourself in work in order to make your emotions feel justified.”
There’s something calming when Greta is around her mother. She has always had a way of putting her at ease — even when she didn’t know she was a clenched fist. Greta dries the dish that Daphne handed to her and puts it away in the cupboard, then she turns and leans against the counter.
“I just wish that I wasn’t bothered.” Greta starts. “Lark has been a ball of guilt over how things turned out, so I have been trying to take as much of that away as possible. It’s not her fault. She’s great at her job.”
“However?”
Greta nibbles at her lip. “It’s hard to sort through your own emotions while you’re trying to help someone else with theirs, I guess.”
“You guess?” Daphne chuckles. “When Mona came to me after your confrontation with her, to say I was angry would be an understatement. How she could be so defensive towards one of my children at the snap of a finger? Then when you told me what Corey had done… child, I had half the mind to go over there and do exactly what you had done.”
“Momma!” Greta titters. “I was acting wild. You would never.”
Daphne shrugs. “For my children, sometimes, I don’t know where my limits stand. I also knew that creating even more tension between us and Corey would cause more stress on you.”
She then tightens her jaw, tilting her head lovingly, “you. That’s all I kept thinking about. Baby, when you were younger, a failed math test would just knot you up from your toes. So I knew you must’ve been wound tight with emotions. I just had to wait for you to come to me. That’s always been the hardest part.”
Greta chuckles, through tears, “So, what? You asked daddy to send my husband on some stakeout so you could corner me in my own kitchen just to layout that speech?”
This gets a squirm of emotions from Daphne. “You think I did all of that just to have this conversation?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Mm hmm. Daphne hums. “I don’t know what case they’re working on right now but I know that it has something to do with those poor girls they found. I also know that your father, and your husband, are one-in-the-same. They don’t stop until a case is solved.”
Greta places a hand on her mother’s own. “You asked me once if I was ready to be the wife of a man-of-the-law. I thought going back into business for myself would keep my mind occupied while the kids were in school. Here I am now, missing both my husband and my children.”
“You’re not missing as much as you think that you are.” Daphne responds, she brings her daughter in for a hug. “Spending your time guilting yourself for doing that wastes time more often than not.”
“I love you, momma,” Greta whimpers.
Holding her daughter close, she replies, “I love you too, sweet girl.”
On Concrete Shelves
Revisited
Previously, On Concrete Shelves...
- Reichen Calbourne meets up with Patrick Sutton and his daughter, Gillian Sutton Crenshaw, to talk about the next moves for the company, including who will be talking with the investors. Can all three personalities mesh moving forward?
- Violet Stone asked her best friend Tully Joplin to meet up with her after her shift at the Cafe. However, Tully found Violet’s dad, and the owner of Alice’s Haven Cafe, Kirsten Thurlow Sutton, in a compromising position before starting her shift.
- Having spent the majority of her time trying to keep her lies together, Kirsten Thurlow Sutton, eventually told her husband that they were expecting a child. This brought them close together once again.
- Lark Maverick felt like she fumbled the ball on their last big client at the Agency when Corey Wilkinson swindled the building for his buyer instead of it going to Greta Wilkinson….
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