Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire #4)(39)

“Mrs. Westerly sometimes comes across as harsh, but—”

“I’m sure she’s a lovely woman once you know her.” They reached the door, and when he didn’t immediately open the door for her, Sage said, “Thank you, Michael.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more but nodded and opened the door. “I hope we see you again, Miss Revere.”

He apparently had not been eavesdropping on the conversation. However, no purpose would be served by telling him what she thought of his boss. So Sage said, “I hope so, too.”

Sage had been on her way home when her phone rang with a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“Miss Revere?”

“Yes.”

“I met you in the park the other day. You and your friend gave me your card.”

“Oh yes.” Sage’s mood instantly improved. Life had a way of balancing out. “I’m so glad you decided to call.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about houseplants. I’m considering getting some. What exactly do you do?”

“It depends on what you need, but I can help you pick them out. I’ll arrange them to be delivered to your place, or I can deliver them myself. Usually I do a consultation on care on the first day, then it’s up to you if you require more. Some plants adapt easily to a new place. Others need a period of adjustment.”

“And your fee?”

“To spend a few hours choosing and purchasing plants, I charge one hundred dollars. Consultations are fifty dollars.”

“Do you require usage of my credit card?”

“Oh no. I wouldn’t want that responsibility. If you don’t have time to go with me, I can purchase them and you can reimburse me, but you’ll be much happier if you choose them yourself. You’ll be caring for them—you should choose the ones you’d like the most.”

“And that’s it? No contract? I don’t need to sign up for anything? How do you want to be paid? Cash?”

“You can pay me in cash. I have a list of prior clients if you’d like a referral from one or more of them.”

“I’d like that. If I say yes, when and where would this happen?”

“Do you know Columbia Road Flower Market? We could meet there later this week. I’ll text you some names and numbers. Take a couple of days to contact a few. If you have a change of heart and decide you don’t require my services, send me a text. Otherwise, we’ll meet up later in the week.”

“That sounds perfect. My name is John Kirby.”

“I look forward to helping you make some greenery friends. I’ve never met someone who regretted adding a plant to their home.”

“Good to know. Thank you, Miss Revere.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Kirby.”

I knew it. I knew he’d call. With her phone still in her hand, Sage was tempted to text Wayne the news. He’d said he wanted to be there when she met with the man. No. If he calls me, I’ll tell him; if he doesn’t—he didn’t really want to know.

Instead, Sage called someone she knew would care. “Bella, you are never going to believe who just called me.”

“Wayne Easton?”

“No. Mr. Kirby. The guy I met in the park with Wayne. I’m going to meet him the day after tomorrow. I know I have to get the details on him, but I have a really good feeling about him. He’s lonely. Your neighbor is lonely. We’ll be invited to a wedding by Christmas. I just know it.”

“Oh boy.”

“You’re still going to help me set them up, right? You haven’t changed your mind? Wait until you see him. He’s adorable. I can easily imagine him helping her dress those little dogs.”

“I would tell you you’re nuts, but instead I’ll just buy a new dress for the future event. I don’t know how you do it, but I’d put money on that wedding happening—as implausible as it sounds.”

Sage smiled happily. “Want to get together tonight? I have quite the story for you.”

“Can you come to this side of town? I won’t be able to leave the office until late.”

“That’s fine. Our usual place?”

“You’re on.”

“If you’re there before me, order me an apple martini. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh no. Anything you want to talk about now?”

“No. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hang on, Sage. Before I forget. We finally got a hit on a Wayne Easton, and I don’t like it. I know what happened to his face.”

Sage stopped midstep. “What? Tell me.”

“Bar fight.”

“Was he attacked?” He didn’t seem the type to start something like that.

“The report didn’t say, but my instincts were right about him. He’s violent.”

“Or a victim.”

“Not likely. It sounds more like a situation where your friend gets drunk and starts harassing another man.”

“Does the report say that?”

“No.”

“Then what does it say?”

“His face was injured during a bar fight with a clown.”