Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He holds his hands in front of him. “We patched it up. All is well.”
Thankfully.
I sit back, resting against the chair’s soft fabric, and glance around Tate’s office. A picture of him with his mother and five siblings is on the shelf behind him. There’s a stack of books next to it that I bet he hasn’t read. On top of the books is a sad little succulent.
At least it’s not as malnourished as the philodendron downstairs.
I start to ask him if he’s going to the party when a bolt of inspiration hits me. I sit up in my seat, my mind racing. What if …
This isn’t what I had in mind for Plantcy, but it’s not a bad idea.
A thought begins to take shape, developing into a full-blown plan. And the longer I think about it, the more it makes sense.
I tap a fingertip to my lips.
It’s kind of perfect, actually. Even though I don’t want to ask Tate for help, this isn’t asking for a handout. I’d be earning my keep. Besides, he always tells me to let him know how he can support me.
I hum as I think. “Tate …”
“What?”
A slow smile spreads across my lips. “I have an idea, actually.”
“Well, don’t.”
“You just asked if I had any ideas!” Logistics and math spin through my head. “Just hear me out.”
“I asked before you had that look on your face. I know that look.”
“One of enlightenment?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s more like entrapment.”
“And you call me dramatic.” I roll my eyes. “I just need you to listen to me with an open mind.”
He doesn’t agree but doesn’t fight me on it, either. So I press on.
“I have an idea that will kill two birds with one stone. It’ll save Plantcy and make you money, too.” I squirm in my seat as my plan continues to come together. “The concept behind Plantcy is brilliant. I stand by that. But I know where I went wrong. It just came to me.”
“Where did you go wrong?”
“I was too niched down. Too … exact.”
“That’s possible.”
“People do need plant care in their homes. But that’s not the only place plants are kept and loved.” I pause for dramatic flair. “They’re also kept in offices.”
I watch as Tate puts two and two together.
“Offices, Tate. Plant caretakers are also needed in offices. Think about it. You hire landscapers for the outside, right? Well, why not the inside? Heck, you could argue that healthy plants are more important in offices than homes.”
“No one has ever made that argument, Carys.”
I give him a look to be quiet and listen. He closes his mouth, aware of who wears the pants in this friendship.
“Think about it,” I say. “It’s what I was saying earlier, only then I was talking shit to mess with you. I was onto something and didn’t even realize it.”
“No one wants to do business with someone with a flaccid shaft, Tate.” I smile at the memory. I was foreshadowing my own epiphany. I’m a freaking genius.
“Healthy plants demonstrate commitment. Vigor. They show the world you pay attention to details and have a heart, which is important to prospective clients, right?” I scoot to the edge of my chair. This is almost too easy. Why didn’t I think of this before? “When someone walks into the lobby right now, all flaccid jokes aside, they see a lack of follow-through. They see a forgotten obligation. They see … a company who would rather watch something die than jump into action and save it.”
Tate picks up a pen and taps it against his desktop. I can see the wheels turning as he considers my idea in his clever, too-smart-to-be-fair brain. It’s one of the things I love most about him. He gives my random thoughts and obscure tangents percolating time, and he never makes me feel silly about them.
“Look, if you don’t want to do this, I understand,” I say. “I won’t be mad. But it would help me until I can build my roster, and I’d make sure you got your money’s worth of my time and energy. I wouldn’t even charge Brewer Group full price—just enough to get me through this rough spell and save me from insurance hell.”
My chest is heavy as I lift my eyes to Tate’s. His are filled with concern.
“You’ll have to convince Gannon,” he says, exhaling harshly.
I perk up.
“Gannon,” he repeats as if a warning. “You’ll have your work cut out for you. He won’t crumble from you batting your lashes like the cop yesterday, so be prepared if you really want to do this.”
“Oh no,” I say in my most innocent voice. “Please don’t tell me I’ll have to show your deliciously hot older brother my cleavage, too. That would be awful. I might die.”
Tate sobers. “Don’t be a smart-ass. You know that isn’t funny.”