Page 14 of Smarty Plants
I nod and turn. “Dakota, would you please see if Mr. Abbott is available?”
Wayne looks me up and down as Dakota picks up the phone. “Who the hell are you?” He’s still looking around the lobby, completely stunned.
I extend a hand, smiling coolly and speaking quickly. “I’m Iris Palmer. One of Ben’s interior design team. Just dropping some materials off for a client presentation this afternoon.”
Dakota stands up from the reception desk. “Wayne, Mr. Abbott is able to see you now.”
I smile, giving her a tiny wink that Wayne doesn’t catch. Yes, I may have sent her a flurry of texts this morning asking her to call Wayne by his given name while referring to her boss as Mister. Who knew that reading psychology articles would come in handy sometimes?
I turn to Dakota and give her a light wave. “I’m available later this afternoon if he would like to go over the Jamieson presentation.Ciao, bella!”
I give Wayne a tight, polite smile, brushing past him as I sail out the door.
I do feel bad that Wayne is so flustered. It’s truly not in my nature to want to make anyone uncomfortable. But this really is in the best interests of Ben’s company. I don’t know what the deal is with his dad just taking off like that, but I want Ben to succeed.
Whenever he talks about his work, his eyes light up. He loves building things with his hands and making people incredibly happy and satisfied with their homes.
I’m still not sure that I’m the kind of woman who could make Ben happy and satisfied in the long-term. For now, knowing that I’m helping and that we really click is good enough.
Like how tomatoes and marigolds grow better together, because?—
Seriously,notthe time, brain. Not the time.
8
BEN
Iwould never have dreamed that I’d be turned on by a slightly shy woman who is forcing herself to be in charge.
Iris is so ridiculously smart. Every single detail has been designed to throw Wayne off and make him second-guess his mission. She must have even coached Dakota, who is wearing a sleek black dress with her hair in a shiny high ponytail today, looking more like a receptionist at a lawyer’s office.
And not allowing Wayne to come barreling in but making him wait for permission to enter? Pure genius. He looks completely discombobulated as he approaches my office door.
In the background, I can hear Dakota answering the phone. “Good morning, Abbot Kitchens and Carpentry, how may I direct your call? Hello, Mr. Wentworth. I’m afraid Mr. Abbot is unavailable at the moment, but I can put you on his call sheet for this morning. Yes, thank you.”
I don’t actually have any projects going on with the Wentworth Group right now, but I catch a glimpse of Iris out the window, slipping her phone back in her purse as she walks away. Brilliant.
Wayne hovers in my doorway, staring through the glass wall of the conference room, where the long table is visible for the first time now that all the cluttered paperwork is gone. The room is stunning, with a large fern-looking tree across from two green paintings.
Without looking away from my screen, I wave Wayne to my guest chair while typing three more lines. “Just a second.” I skim my nonsense note one last time, then snap the laptop closed and turn to face my uncle as he sits down. He’s staring oddly at the large plant in front of the window on my right, then squints at the row of awards.
“Why is there a damn tree in the office?”
“Oh, the fiddle-leaf fig? Very trendy in current interior office design. You just missed my plant expert, Iris.”
My deepest fear was that Wayne would come in here yelling, threatening to poach my workmen if I didn’t make him a partner in the company – which would certainly be a step toward him throwing me out. My second biggest worry was that with Dad so off kilter with this sudden life change, he would be easily pressed into doing whatever his younger brother wanted.
But the man sitting across from me is not the blustering red-faced Uncle I’m used to. It’s like all the wind has been taken out of his sails.
“Looks like a goddamn tax attorney’s office.” Wayne shifts in his seat. “You don’t even have the wood and stain samples out front.”
My head cocks to the side as I stare at him like he’s got two heads. “Of course not. They’re in the conference room. When we’re expecting clients, we put together a proper presentation and lay out only the samples they need to see.”
“What if they need to see all of ’em? What if they haven’t made up their minds yet?”
I chuckle. “We are well past the days of just jamming a few wood samples in our back pocket and describing the project while leaning on our trucks. We send someone to take laser measurements and drop everything into our 3-D modelling program. Then we have the mockups displayed in the conference room, along with the wood samples we’re recommending for their project.”
“Since when do you do that 3-D crap?”
