Category: Glass

With fifteen minutes left until the end of the work day, I really need to call up the glass balustrade professional. I’m sure you all remember my story from the weekend where I recounted the fact that Barry had barged through our glass doors which lead to the backyard, smashing the glass into tiny little pieces. Well, I said that I’d either work up the courage to call on Monday or my housemate would do it (they didn’t do it) and here it is with fifteen minutes to go until close of business and I haven’t given them a call. Why is being an adult so stressful!

I know what I have to ask for – a full scale glass replacement. Melbourne has glaziers available that could definitely come and fix our glass doors as soon as possible, but I just haven’t been able to call out of fear of judgement and the price. I know that’s unfair of me to be worried about seeing as these are really professional and hardworking people, but my anxiety gets the better of me at times which really hurts the way I engage with people.

I just wish that this hadn’t happened in the first place. I wish that Barry hadn’t been so inconsiderate of our space and barged through our glass door. I mean, how hard is it to stop for a second and look where you’re walking before going anywhere? Surely it can’t be that difficult. Now because of Barry I have to talk on the phone with the glass balustrade expert. Local to Melbourne, which is where I live, it should be easy for the glass balustrade person to come out and fix the doors. I know, I know – I’ve already said this. I’m procrastinating giving the glass balustrade guy a call. Isn’t that obvious? Well, there are only three minutes left in the day. I guess I’m not giving him a call tonight. That would be inconsiderate of me when I’m sure he just wants to go home.

Rylee didn’t bother knocking. She’d been through enough, fighting her way through the glass and steel factory, to bother with etiquette. She didn’t care if Jon Saleson was in the middle of a conversation with the Queen of England – she was going to talk to this man now.

The fellow bolted upright in his chair, placed directly behind the middle of his desk. He wore a pair of fancy spectacles and had an obnoxiously waxed moustache. “Who are you?” he asked, wide-eyed. “What do you want?”

She stalked over, slamming both fists on his ebony desk. “Tell me everything you know about the Francis couple and their estate in the hills!”

Terror shifted away from the man’s expression, his dull eyes suddenly filled with glee. He let out a ground-shaking roar of laughter. “Oh, you’re here because of Henry Francis? He finally found the mystic energy in himself to lead someone on that wild goose chase? Well, you’ve found the goose. I’m the end of the line.”

Rylee narrowed her eyes. “Fine by me. I didn’t climb over one of the best glass balustrades Melbourne has ever seen for nothing, though. I want answers. I know the Conclave of Mechanists attacked Francis when he refused to join them. What do you have to do with this?”

Jon Saleson leaned back. “Well, I didn’t always associate with steel manufacturers and professional glaziers. Melbourne was a different place back then. I did my time with the Mechanists, and I was there that day. We sacked the place for fun, and it has belonged to the Conclave ever since.”

It… belonged to the Conclave? That didn’t make sense. That didn’t make sense at all. The house had belonged to Cole’s grandparents, hadn’t it? This just didn’t add up.

“No, you’re lying,” Rylee said, staggering back. “You have to be lying. That house belonged to my boyfriend’s family.”

Jon Saleson laughed again, even harder this time. “Believe that, do you? That’s precious. Love does have a tendency to make one blind, I suppose.