Chapter 3
3
VIOLET
M y family are all so busy with work that I don’t have a chance to talk to them until the next day at breakfast. The four of us live together right above the store; it used to be two large apartments, but when Mom bought the building, she turned it into a huge communal living space.
Mom sips her coffee while trying to put on a brave face as she goes through the mail – which, as always, is a pile of bills.
“I might have a new account for us,” I announce.
Mom is the first to snap her head in my direction, followed by my older sisters, Jasmine and Iris.
“Really?” Iris asks. “What kind of job, and how much does it pay?”
“Well,” I shrug, “I’m not sure of the scope of the project yet. It’s a plant wall – could be as big as ten feet by twenty. Cost didn’t seem to be an issue.” I’ve been thinking about this all night: it honestly feels like Jack was most concerned about creating a better environment for his staff.
“Goodness.” Mom beams. “That’s amazing. Something new and different.”
“Not that different,” Jasmine points out. “We’ve done smaller plant walls before. Well, a couple of half walls.”
“Yeah.” I grin. “Chad and Brendan did a great job with the framing. It’ll just need to be a lot bigger.”
Mom lets out a sigh of relief. People used to send cut flowers for all occasions. When house plants became trendier, she pivoted the shop from Palmer’s Flowers to Palmer’s Potted Plants. But unfortunately, potted plants don’t retail for as much as a bouquet of lilies or roses.
After breakfast, my sisters and I tidy up, then Iris turns to us. “You know, we’ve been targeting our advertising to people who want plants in their homes. We’ve never considered the corporate world.”
Jasmine nods. “There’s plenty of rich companies in town. Go where the money is.”
“Like Jack said…that’s my contact at the company… We’ll have to come in regularly to care for this plant wall.” My heart lights up at the thought of seeing Jack every week. “Maybe we could each try to land a corporate client where we provide the greenery, and ongoing in-office care as well?”
“Perfect.” Iris nods. “I’ll start researching similar companies and see what they charge for weekly upkeep.”
“I’ll look into trends and getting the supplies if we don’t have them already.” Jasmine playfully cuffs my shoulder. “Good job, little sis. Don’t think we didn’t notice your eyes light up when you mentioned this Jack guy, by the way.”
Iris nods. “Seriously. We’ll grill you about that after work. For now, I have to go check on this morning’s deliveries.”
“And I need to draft this proposal properly.”
I pour myself another coffee and take it down to the far corner of the shop that’s my design and brainstorming area. We’ve all fallen into the roles we’re best at: I’m the flower child artsy type, designing new arrangements and displays. Jasmine is the builder who constructs things, and she can also nurse almost any plant back to health. Iris is the bookkeeper, in charge of finance, details, and keeping us in line.
Our Mom, Dahlia, keeps everything running smoothly. She’s the people person and is always so friendly with customers that many of them become true friends.
Is there any possibility that through this project, Jack and I might…? No. That’s ridiculous. But I’m glad I’ll have plenty of opportunities to be near him and feel his huge presence. Admire his massive shoulders and strong jawline. Check out that fantastic ass. Watch his eyes move, and the curve of those sexy lips.
It only takes a few hours for me to whip up some sketches and a few photo mockups of the project. Jasmine runs through the construction, and Iris puts together an estimate.
On a whim, I also sketch out a large potential arrangement of plants for the front lobby, and a few medium-sized planters that would be good for corners near groups of cubicles where they could be enjoyed by everyone.
Sure, I might be pushing my luck, but Jack did sound interested. He also sounded incredibly sexy … His rough, deep voice was more lumberjack than investment guy. How am I going to keep it together when I see him again?
It’s important to me that this project be approved. My job is the most airy-fairy, and I don’t always feel like I’m pulling my weight from a business point of view. Directly being responsible for bringing in some real money would help a lot.
By early afternoon, I have everything printed and gathered up. As I dial the number on Jack’s business card, I wonder idly how long it will take to get an appointment with him. Probably at least a week. I mean, he’s the CEO. He must be swamped with meetings.
Melati answers. “Good afternoon, English Investments, how may I direct your call?”
“Hi, Melati. It’s Violet Palmer from Palmer’s Potted Plants. I was hoping to?—”
“Violet!” She sounds ridiculously happy to hear from me. “Jack said that as soon as you call, I’m to ask you to come in as soon as possible. How’s three o’clock today?”
In half an hour ? “Oh. Sure. No problem. Thank you.”
“Thank you.” She giggles. “He must be really excited about this idea. He’s been walking around smiling when he doesn’t think anyone is looking. Trust me, that never happens.”
“Interesting. Thanks. See you soon.”
My heart is ready to burst and my hands are trembling. That doesn’t matter. I need to make this happen.
Twenty-six minutes later, the elevator zooms up so fast my stomach is left on the ground floor. I’m wearing a nice dress – plain, navy, the most “businesslike” thing I own. No bracelets. My hair clip is plain brown.
It’s like I’m cosplaying a professional instead of being my colorful creative self, but Jack needs to see that I really do know what I’m doing. And I do – at least, with plants. I’ve been working at the store since I was sixteen and designing foliage displays since I was around eight.
Melati’s big smile relaxes me a bit as I approach the reception desk. “This must be important,” she says, winking. “He said to drop everything when the flower girl is ready. You should have seen his smile.”
Really? He thinks of me as “the flower girl”? Well…fine?
She lifts the phone to her ear, still grinning. “Mr. English? Miss Palmer is here. She’s—” Melati blinks in surprise, and her mouth drops open. “He hung up!”
A split second later, Jack comes rushing from the end of the corridor, hand outstretched to shake mine. “Violet. So good of you to come back so soon, thank you.”
His hand clasps mine gently and warmly. He doesn’t let go, staring into my eyes for what feels like a whole minute. He’s wearing another perfectly tailored, physique-hugging suit, this one more charcoal than black. Also, he’s wearing a different watch today – all black, with neat silver screw accents.
“Come on, let’s see your ideas,” he says, leading me down the hallway. For a brief moment, his palm brushes my lower back, and I swear I lose the ability to breathe. I’ve always been easily flustered at the best of times, and Jack’s presence is awakening so many brand-new feelings that I’m overwhelmed.
Instead of walking into his office, he turns down a side hallway, then opens the door to a medium-sized conference room. There are two empty chairs, and he pulls one out for me as I stare in astonishment at four unfamiliar faces.
Oh no.
I can speak to one person with confidence. Maybe two. This is officially…a group. And they’re all looking at me. This is the real-life version of a frequent nightmare.
“Everyone, this is Violet Palmer, of Palmer’s Potted Plants. They’re a local family business who have been operating for twenty years. She has some innovative ideas to breathe some life into our space.”
Jack’s smile is strange. It’s as if he’s trying to contain it, even though his eyes are dancing. “Violet, this is Jerry, our office manager. Fiona, Jeff and Mark are all department heads. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Swallowing hard, my throat feels disconnected from the rest of me. “Hi,” is all I can manage.
Everyone is looking at me expectantly, as I pull the prints from my bag. My hands are visibly shaking, which Jack notices immediately.
“Violet,” he says softly, leaning close. “Are you okay?”
I can’t explain that I have stage fright. He’ll think I’m some flighty little girl. I’m already the flower girl, for goodness’ sake.
“I-I’m sorry,” I murmur, spreading out the first several pages across the table. Turning to Jack, I give him what I hope is a meaningful look. “I only printed one set. I didn’t realize I’d be presenting to several people .”
From the way he’s studying my eyes, it’s as if he can see right into my soul.
Under the table, he gives my knee a quick, discreet pat as he nods. “That’s okay. We’ve got this.”