glossed lips trembled and she shook her head, unable to finish the sentence with the word Babette was expecting—married.
“That’s okay. If you can’t talk about the relationship, I understand.”
“No, no I need to. I haven’t talked about it enough, because there are always reporters around at all of the functions I attend, and they’re always listening. Truthfully, I need to talk about it, and I know it will help you do your job if you know as much as you can.”
“Okay. Then take your time,” Babette said, offering an understanding smile, and chomping at the bit to find out why this lady would pick Samuel Farraday, yacht or not, over Jeff. Samuel Farraday, from what Babette had read, was a spoiled, über-rich frat-boy type, who was in his mid-forties, but tried to pass for late twenties.
Kitty sniffed. “The main thing you need to know is . . . he isn’t like every other guy. He’s amazing, and I want him back. I want to marry him.”
“I see,” Babette said, nodding as though this wasn’t a big deal, but knowing that any guy who’d been “worshipped,” then dumped in the manner Kitty presumably discarded last year’s shoes, probably wouldn’t be all that eager to reconcile. With Jeff Eubanks it’d be even more of a boot to the ego.
“I know you’re busy,” Kitty said, opening her purse and removing her checkbook. “Lenora said you stay booked well in advance.”
“I actually have an assistant now,” Babette said, referring to Genie, who had recently started helping her with clients. Genie had taken an interest in Babette’s business after being half of Babette’s first success story. In fact, she’d spent the last six months watching Babette and practicing her own people-reading techniques and was looking forward to having her own assignments.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Kitty exclaimed, her baby blue eyes glistening. “Then you could start immediately?”
“I should be able to,” Babette admitted, slightly surprised by the woman’s urgency. She wondered if Jeff would be put off if the woman asking him to give Kitty a second chance happened to have been his bed buddy, sex buddy, whatever you wanted to call it, a year ago. She inhaled, then exhaled thickly. Better cover her bases now, just in case Jeff hung up on her the minute she called. “You realize that what I’ll do is talk to him, get to know him and attempt to read what he’s hiding beneath the surface. I typically try to point out what a person is already feeling but unwilling to admit.” She took a deep breath of encouragement, then added, “I can’t make anyone fall in love. However, if he does still have feelings for you, I’ll attempt to convince him to give you another chance. Beyond that, I can’t guarantee what happens. That’s up to you.”
“Oh, I know. Lenora explained the process. If you can’t mend the fences, then you don’t charge your clients. She also said that’s why your services are so expensive, but that you’re worth every cent.”
Babette didn’t know what to say to that. Her services were high because she only took a few clients at a time and spent several weeks on each relationship, ample time to schedule meetings and “read” the couple.
“But I also know that your track record so far is a hundred percent,” Kitty said.
Babette nodded, and began to rethink her business plan, specifically the part where she got no money whatsoever if the relationship wasn’t mended.
“I’m willing to pay you triple what Lenora paid you,” Kitty said, while Babette tried to control her galloping heart.
“Triple?” The word came out in a semi-croak, making Babette’s shock unmistakable. So much for controlling her own body language. And then, of course, her mind whispered, “Kitty knows talking Jeff into seeing her again will be next to impossible,” but then that was quickly followed by, “Goodbye student loan, hello cha-ching!”
“I don’t know if you’ve ever traveled for the job, but I’ll need you to. Jeff lives in Florida.”
“Jeff?” Babette questioned, her voice remarkably normal, thank goodness.
“Jeff Eubanks, my ex-fiancé,” Kitty supplied.
Babette wrote it down, then added, “He lives in Florida?” She forced her facial expression to remain neutral, like someone who didn’t know exactly where Jeff lived and hadn’t spent a good deal of time in his condo.
“Destin. On the beach,” Kitty clarified, gracefully pushing her hair behind her ear with her professionally manicured hand. Each nail was a perfect oval, Babette noticed, and tipped with a frosty peach polish that complemented her outfit beautifully.