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“Open order or specifics?” The first would be easy. The second, not so much.
“You know how much I love you, right?”
“If you tell me this is another Polynesian luau in the middle of a New York blizzard—”
“No, at least I don’t think so. I don’t have the details yet, but am scheduled to meet with the client first thing in the morning. Apparently, he wants to be very hands on—or so his PA said. I was hoping you could be there.”
He? Usually Tierney deals with the bride directly, or if not her, then the mother-of-the-bride.
“Groom?” I ask, opening our inventory tracker to review the options I could offer on such short notice. Amaryllis, of course, and orchids. Maybe ranunculus and sweet pea, too.
“Father-of-the-Bride.”
I still. “Really?”
“Yes, Garrett Hillstone. I’m sending you his client profile now.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You never say no.”
Damn, she knows me well. I click on my email to open the attachment, which could easily double as an FBI dossier, based on the details Tierney’s team usually tracks down. But, in our business, information is power and the more we delight our customers with small touches and unexpected whimsy, the better for our reputations and word-of-mouth recommendations, which is everything. “Hillstone,” I murmur. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
I lean into the screen, my jaw dropping. The man is striking, with silver-gray eyes that match the hair around his temples, and somehow remind me I haven’t had a date in over a year. His name sounds like one I recognize, but I’ve never seen Garrett Hillstone before. If I had, there’s no way I would have forgotten.
“He funded the Kerry Hillstone Center for Children’s Literacy at the New York Public Library.”
An interesting choice of philanthropy. “His wife’s doing?” I ask, swallowing the twinge of jealousy for Kerry Hillstone that snakes through my chest and tightens like a boa constrictor.
“No,” Tierney replies. “He’s single.”
Single? Really? I zoom in on the document and study his features as if they’re suddenly going to reveal a clue as to his personality flaw because, certainly, he must have a blaring one. It’s the only explanation for his single status when his net worth is a single digit with a capital B. But those sexy, smoke-gray eyes give nothing away.
“Divorced?” I ask.
“Widowed.”
Oh. I’m tempted to ask how long, but bite my tongue. Surely a single dad, especially one who wants to be hands on and is about to see his daughter married, is experiencing some emotions. I’d be wise to steer clear, no matter how hot he is. “And planning his daughter’s wedding?” I ask instead.
“His only child and according to the PA, Kendall Hillstone and her fiancé are currently on their way back to the country after a year with the Peace Corps that got extended thanks to a cholera outbreak in Malawi.”
My back straightens. “Cholera’s not contagious, is it?”
“Hell if I know. But you’ll be there, right? At the client meeting tomorrow?”
“What time?”
“Ten o’clock.”
I click on the tab for the food delivery and reopen the order to edit it. With this last-minute job on Christmas Eve, which I’ll have to handle personally, I could maybe still swing Christmas Day and the day after off, but why bother? Might as well just stick to my usual routine and work. After all, I may be acquiring another company in the New Year. “I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER2
GARRETT
“Areyou seriously working out right now? Isn’t it like five a.m. there right now?”
Kendall’s face takes up most of the flat screen on the wall, but I can see enough behind her to tell she’s at an airport and not the straw hut she’s called home for the last thirteen months. “First of all, it’s five fifteen and second, you’re the one who just texted.”
