Let Me In

by Parker, Ali

  I walked out of the massive warehouse and headed to my car in the parking lot that housed the cars of the many employees. I checked the time and pointed my car toward town. I didn’t necessarily need the business to build a single boat, but I was looking forward to a new challenge.

  I thought about the upcoming party. I really wasn’t looking forward to it. It was hard for an extrovert to understand an introvert. I considered myself an introvert. I had always been a loner. In college, I did party a little. I did date and I did have fun. After I graduated, I began to become more closed off. Mostly, I was closed off because I was always working on the design for the ship. It took a couple years to fine tune the idea I had come up with during the last year in college.

  Every day I stayed alone in my own little bubble, the easier it got to stay in that bubble. The few women I dated were not right for me. They didn’t like being cooped up. They wanted to go out and hit the clubs. They wanted to be seen on my arm. I knew I was wealthy, and a lot of the women thought they were getting a real catch. Then they got to know me.

  Sometimes, they made the excuse to leave. Sometimes, I made the excuse. None of the relationships had necessarily ended badly but they did end. I couldn’t ever remember being sad about them ending. I supposed that was part of the problem. I should have been sad. I should have cared a little more than I actually did.

  I convinced myself some years ago I was meant to be single. I was going to be a bachelor all the rest of my days.

  The worst part about it—I didn’t care. I wasn’t worried about being alone.

  Chapter 4

  Evie

  I parked my car in front of the small antique store. I often shopped at the place when I was looking for that little something special to make a party theme complete. I had a good relationship with the owner and appreciated the many stories he had about the old days.

  I walked in, the bells on the door alerting him to my presence. The bells were a necessity. The shop was packed, wall to wall. In some places, things were stacked so high one couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of them.

  I walked inside, being careful not to knock anything over with my purse. “Bob!” I called out the owner’s name.

  I heard a muffled reply. “Back here.”

  I followed the sound of his voice. He was kneeling on the floor, unpacking a box of what looked like skeleton keys.

  “Those are awesome!” I exclaimed.

  He softly chuckled. “These are trendy right now,” he commented. “The rustier, the better. I’ll sell these in no time.”

  “They are very cool,” I agreed. I considered buying some just to have them. I was thinking they could be great for a Halloween party or a steampunk party. I pushed the thoughts aside. I was there for the shipping party. Skeleton keys were not that hard to find.

  He very slowly got to his feet, brushing off his knees. “You’re here for the boat stuff, right?”

  “I am. What do you have for me?”

  He walked me around a pile of stuff to an area where there were some thick ropes piled on the floor. “Check out this anchor,” he said.

  I grimaced and shook my head. “I think that is a little on the large side,” I told him. The anchor was a hair shorter than I was. “I was thinking of something a little smaller. I do like the ropes. I’ll take those.”

  “I’ve got this old wheel,” he said, moving around to point out the carved-wood piece.

  I wasn’t an expert, but I didn’t believe it was an authentic wheel. It looked close enough for my needs though. “I’ll take that as well. What else?”

  He looked thoughtful before he put a finger in the air. “Ah, the old light. This came off an old freighter.”

  He held up the brass spotlight that was old and tarnished and absolutely perfect. “Yes, that works. I’ll take that.”

  He showed me around, offering up a few more pieces. I was already imagining their placement in my head.

  “Well?” he asked.

  I smiled. “This is perfect. Now, let’s get down to business. How much?”

  He threw out an outrageous number. Initially, I thought he was joking. Then I realized he was very serious. “Bob, no. That is never going to happen.”

  “These are some great pieces!”

  “They are nice pieces, but none of them are all that rare. I can go to any one of the many shops around the waterfront and find these.”

  He scowled at me. “You won’t find half of this.”

  “Bob,” I warned. “I love giving you my business, but I can’t pay way over the market value. I have a business to run as well.”

  He shook his head. “You used to be nice.”

  I laughed. “I still am nice. I’ll tell you what. I’ll rent that big anchor from you if you give me a better deal on this other stuff. We’ll include a little tag that says the anchor is for sale at your shop. It’s free advertisement for you.”

  He mulled it over. “Fine, but don’t go blabbing to everyone that I gave you a good deal.”

  “I would never do such a thing. You are my secret weapon.”

  That seemed to help. He smiled and nodded. He helped me load the small things into my car and promised to have the anchor delivered to the ballroom. It was a huge piece and would be the statement for the party. I had planned on a ship replica, but the anchor was going to be much better. I got in my car and pulled out my iPad. I made the checkmark on my list of things to do today. One down and about a million to go.

  I loved lists. They were so rewarding. Every time I checked a box, it was like I was winning the game I played with myself. The final preparations were coming together. I needed to check with the caterers, but I was confident all would be well. I had a select group of contractors I worked with all the time. We had developed a trust that made my life easier. They did a good job and I rewarded them with more work.

  With everything pretty much handled and running smoothly, I felt confident I could call Clara and assure her everything was well in hand.

  “Hi,” I greeted when she answered the phone, sounding out of breath. “Are you hanging in there?”

  “Oh god, I swear. This is it. This wedding will kill me.”

  I softly laughed. “You are going to be fine. I just wanted to let you know the shipping party for tomorrow is rolling along. Everything is set and I don’t foresee any problems.”

  She let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank god. At least one of us is doing our job.”

  “How is it going? Is there anything I can help with?”

  “No, no, you have a full plate. We’ll make it through. This bride? My lord, she is a piece of work. The nerves are getting the best of her. She actually wanted to change her bouquet this morning. I explained it wasn’t possible. She cried. Her father yelled and I am now busting my ass to try and find a florist that has the flowers in stock. Then, she saw the shade of pink and didn’t like it. I’m going to need a vacation and a lot of alcohol once this is over.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I empathized. “It sounds like a nightmare.”

  “That’s lasted a year,” she muttered.

  “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you next week.”

  “Are you going back to the office today?” she asked.

  I bit my bottom lip. “I wasn’t going to. I need to check on my dad. If you need me to, I can.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.”

  “Thanks, Clara,” I said and ended the call.

  She was a great boss. We all worked long, hard hours. Cutting out a little early on a Friday wasn’t a big deal, especially considering we generally worked weekends. We all worked a lot, especially during the spring and summer seasons. We also worked our asses off throughout the holiday season as well. Our slow time was late winter, but even then, we were busy planning big spring weddings.

  I drove to my father’s house in La Jolla. It wasn’t one of the big, fancy homes, but it was comfortable. It was older. It was my childhood home and held a great deal of memories
. It was small, but as a single dad, it was all he could afford. I pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. It was clear he wasn’t home. I made my way up the cement walk with little cracks that were in need of repair but would likely not get done anytime soon.

  I collected the mail from the box and used my key to go inside. “Dad?” I called out, just in case his car was in the shop.

  There wasn’t an answer. I put the mail on the small table near the front door. It was where the mail went. It never went on the dining table or on a kitchen counter. It always went on the table. My slightly obsessive nature was absolutely the product of my father’s upbringing.

  I looked around the living room that was clean and neat. It was who he was. Organized. He could give Marie Kondo a run for her money. I walked into the kitchen and noticed a few dishes in the sink. I quickly rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher.

  I opened the fridge to see what he had been eating. I wrinkled my nose when I saw the meager contents. He was clean and organized but he ate like shit. He would get so caught up with work, he would skip meals. He did eat a lot of takeout, which I did not recommend. He was getting up there in years and I didn’t want him keeling over because he ate like shit.

  The fridge offered no hope. I opened the freezer and found some chicken. I pulled it out, popped it in the microwave to defrost and rummaged through the pantry to find something to pair it with. I tapped my fingers on the counter, trying to figure out what I could make.

  “Chicken casserole, it is,” I decided.

  I quickly mixed it up, popped it in the oven to cook, and went to check the laundry. I tossed in a load and folded what was in the dryer before carrying it into his bedroom. His bed was neatly made. A book sat on the nightstand, along with his reading glasses. I left the folded clothing sitting on his dresser and walked out.

  My bedroom was pretty much the same as it had been when I lived there. He had put a desk in one corner and was calling it an office. He left the bed, just in case I needed a place to crash. It was sweet. I had been in my apartment for years and had my own bed, but he always wanted me to have that safety net.

  I walked down the hallway, pausing to stare at the picture of my mother. I missed her. Well, not really her because I never really knew her. I missed the idea of a mother. My dad had done his best, and I never lacked for love or attention, but a mother offered a little something different. Her life had been cut short on a quick run to the store. A car accident had taken her from us when I was three. My dad never remarried. It was not a subject he entertained.

  I puttered around, picking up a little before I heard the oven timer. I pulled out the casserole, covered it with foil, and popped it back in the oven on the warm setting. I wasn’t sure when he would be home, but I didn’t think it would be too much longer.

  I grabbed the notepad from the drawer to leave him a note.

  Hi Dad, I stopped by, but you weren’t here. I made you a chicken casserole. There’s a load in the wash. Make sure you toss it in the dryer before you go to bed. I have an event tomorrow, but I will call you on Sunday. Take care of yourself. I love you, Evie.

  P.S. I tossed the Chinese. It is high in sodium! You know better!

  I left the note on the counter and left the house. I had learned to cook at an early age. I wasn’t ever going to be Pioneer Woman good, but I could hold my own with the basics, like casseroles. I could cook the hell out of a casserole.

  I had to get home and get back to work on all the little details for the party, including what I would wear. I had a full wardrobe specifically for events. As the planner, I needed to be in attendance, but the rule of thumb was not to stick out like a sore thumb. A lot of clients wanted their guests to have the impression they planned the whole thing. If I was standing in the corner, directing traffic, and wearing an earpiece while looking like a drill sergeant, that would not work.

  We wanted to blend in. The client knew who we were. The caterers, the musicians, and all the hired help knew who we were. That was all that mattered. I flipped through my closet, trying to decide what to wear. I didn’t want to stick out, which automatically eliminated the full-length gowns.

  My color wheel included lots of blacks and blues. The blue made my eyes pop. Black was just my thing. I had a couple pastels but nothing red. Red was a no-no. Red screamed siren. Sirens upstaged party hosts. I went with the black, beaded gown that fell just above the knees. It had a halter-style neckline, which meant I didn’t need to worry about the girls on my chest spilling out. No wardrobe malfunctions for me.

  With my outfit picked out, it was time to make myself something to eat before digging into all the tiny little details that could make or break the party.

  Chapter 5

  Xander

  The car pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. I could see Charlie pacing in front of the building. He was irritated. Pissed, judging by the flurry of texts he’d sent over the last twenty minutes. I was late. I could admit I nearly backed out. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going to the stupid party. The only reason I was going was because of Charlie.

  I got out of the car, buttoning the suit as I moved toward him.

  “It’s about fucking time,” he said. “You need a better watch.”

  “I don’t need a better watch.”

  “You are late.”

  “I know. See? My watch works fine.”

  He growled. “Why didn’t you text me back?”

  “Because I knew what you would say. I was on my way.”

  He shook his head, clearly still pissed. “Can we go in? I need a damn drink.”

  “You could have gone in,” I told him.

  “No, I couldn’t. You are the one invited. I’m the plus one.”

  I nodded and moved to open the door. I gestured for him to go inside. “Let’s get a drink.”

  “I’m going to get a drink. And some damn good food.”

  “I’ll go in. I’ll get you settled. Then, I’m probably going to bail.”

  He stopped walking. “Xander, it cannot be that bad.”

  “It can be,” I told him. “I really don’t like this kind of thing.”

  “Tell me one thing that you hate,” he said.

  I shrugged. “People.”

  “You don’t hate people.”

  “I don’t mingle. I don’t like networking. I’m uncomfortable talking to strangers.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “You put on this air that makes you seem invincible. You don’t appear shy or uncomfortable. You come across as aloof, like you know you are good and you don’t give a shit.”

  I grinned. “That last part is probably true. I don’t try to be a dick.”

  “I didn’t say you were a dick. I’m saying loosen up. I think you might actually have fun if you let yourself.”

  I sighed. “I’m going in. I’m getting a drink and we’ll see how things go.”

  “Fine,” he said with exasperation. “I’m going to look into putting you in therapy.”

  I laughed, knowing it would never happen. I gave my name to the man standing guard at the door. He looked at Charlie, waiting for his name. “I’m with him,” Charlie said with a wink.

  The man nodded and opened the door. I didn’t care that he thought we were a couple. The room had lots of twinkling lights with a slow strobe moving like a lighthouse. The music was a typical cover band playing the usual Top Forty hits. People moved around the room, carrying glasses as they talked in groups. I was immediately looking for a quiet corner that was out of the way.

  Charlie grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter before snatching a few crab cakes from another tray. Champagne wasn’t my thing. “I’m going to the bar,” I told him.

  “Don’t leave,” he warned.

  It took him about three seconds to find a beautiful woman to talk to. I ordered a scotch from the bar and was about to recede to my chosen corner when I was stopped. “Xander,” a very large man said with a great deal of enthusiasm.
r />   I looked at him but had no idea who he was. “Hey,” I said, trying to pretend like I knew him.

  He reached out to shake my hand. “Damn, it’s been a few years. You have certainly come a long way. I remember the first time you showed up in my office with your plans for a lightweight ship. I damn near laughed you out of the building.”

  A light went on. “Gary.”

  He grinned. “How have you been?” he asked.

  “Good, you?”

  His belly jumped up and down as he laughed. “I’d be better if I would have listened to you all those years ago. I don’t know if I can afford one of your ships now, but good job. Really good job.”

  Another man that was vaguely familiar joined us. “Congratulations,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure why he was congratulating me. “Thank you.”

  He turned to Gary and smiled. “You did hear about the award, right?”

  Gary nodded. “I certainly did. We are standing in the midst of greatness.”

  I had to believe he was buttering me up. Now that I had finally made a name for myself and managed to become the designer everyone wanted, I could pick and choose my clients. I was not going to pick Gary. Something about the guy irritated me. That, and I remembered the meeting in his office. He practically laughed me out the door. I didn’t like him. He would pay full price and he could get in line behind the other companies clamoring to get one of my ship designs.

  “I’m not sure about greatness, but I appreciate the compliment.”

  “You are a smart guy,” Gary said. “Us old guys are just not as smart as you. We never would have considered making a lighter boat that could carry more cargo.”

  “And use less fuel,” I added. I wanted to make sure he knew exactly what he missed out on.

  Gary grinned. “Less fuel, which makes these little shindigs possible. Al is swimming in cash. I guess Al is the second smartest man in the room. He saw what you had and jumped on it.”

  I nodded. “He took a chance on me. I’m grateful to him for being willing to trust a young, shaggy-haired guy.”