Fall For Me Again Read online

My father stiffened and then took a sip of coffee. I suspected he only did it to try to look a little more casual and less taken aback. I loved pulling one over on him. It was a rare occurrence, so when it happened, I savored it like the last bite of my favorite treat.

  “We’ll see you soon,” I said.

  My father nodded. “If that writer is as talented as Winzly says she is, make sure you close that deal, Dallas. It’s important.” He smiled. “Goodbye, Roy.”

  “Bye, Papa!” Roy called over my shoulder as I turned and carried him back to the car. I put him in his seat in the back, and we reversed out of the driveway. My father had already disappeared inside when we hit the gate.

  Roy had a fifteen-minute power nap as I drove us home. He came to when we parked in the driveway, and I let him out of the car. He walked alongside me up to the door, and once it opened, he hurried past me.

  I helped him out of his jacket and boots, and then we made our way upstairs, where I ran a hot bath for him. As we waited for the tub to fill up, Roy sat on the ledge. “How was your party last night, Dad?”

  “It was fun.”

  “Was there a bouncy castle?”

  I chuckled. “No. No bouncy castle. I was kind of disappointed.”

  “Was there cake at least?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. No cake either.”

  Roy frowned. “What did you even do, then?”

  “Well,” I said, leaning against the bathroom wall and crossing my arms over my chest. “I talked to some people I used to spend a lot of time with when I was young. And I had a drink with Uncle Elijah.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a party.”

  I nodded. “Adult parties are much less fun than kid parties.”

  “I wouldn’t have gone.”

  I laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, either, but it was nice to see people I didn’t realize I missed.”

  “Like who?”

  I shrugged. “Friends from high school.”

  “Oh,” Roy said. “Why don’t you see them anymore?”

  I sighed. “Life gets complicated when you get older, Roy. And it gets busy. People go in different directions.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because we don’t all like the same things.”

  Roy tilted his head to the side in thought. “Like how Papa likes cigars and you don’t?”

  “Exactly.”

  The tub was full and brimming with bubbles. I turned off the tap and stuck my hand in to make sure it was the right temperature. With a nod, I confirmed it was ready. Roy stripped and climbed in the tub, and I left him to play with his toys in the water and wash up. He loved bath time and even for being five years old, he enjoyed his time alone. I wasn’t opposed. Sometimes, he would ask me to stay with him, but most of the time, he wanted to play with his toy submarine in peace, and he’d stay in there until all the bubbles were gone.

  I told him to come find me in my office when he was done.

  I went downstairs, opened the blinds in my office, and flipped open my laptop as I sat down at my desk. I had over a dozen new emails, and one of them was from Winzly. I opened it up and scanned through it.

  She had made plans for me to meet with the new author tomorrow night for dinner. Yet again, I’d be forced to ask my father to look after Roy, and yet again, he’d use it as an opportunity to micromanage me. I sighed, knowing there was no way around it. Maybe in a few years, I wouldn’t be doing the same thing, and I wouldn’t have to rely on other people to watch after my son while I took care of business.

  Maybe.

  Winzly had attached a document with information on the new young writer. I hovered my mouse over it, about to click it, when Roy came into the office all wrapped up in his furry blue robe. His dark brown hair looked as black as mine when it was wet.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, kiddo?”

  “Can we go to a movie today?”

  “A movie, huh?” I asked. It had been a while since Roy and I spent some time together actually going out and doing something. A movie could be fun. “Sure. Let me just send this email quickly, and we’ll go. Can you get dressed while I do that?”

  Roy nodded eagerly. “Yes, I’ll be fast!”

  “Okay,” I said, a smile tugging my lips as Roy spun around and ran out of my office. I listened to his feet on the stairs as he raced up to his bedroom to get ready.

  I had maybe three minutes before he would come back down and demand we leave as soon as possible. And I still had to get my jacket and shoes on. The patience of a five-year-old before going to the movies was basically nonexistent.

  I wrote Winzly back and confirmed that I would be there for dinner tomorrow night to meet the new talent. I mentally told myself to read the document and information on the writer before dinner.

  I closed my laptop and went down the hall to the front door, where I stepped into my boots and shrugged into my leather jacket. The sun was starting to poke through the clouds when Roy came back downstairs, all smiles and ready to go, except that he had his shirt on inside out.

  We quickly rectified that, and then we slipped outside and got in the car.

  “You know,” I said mischievously, “I’d really like to see that new scary movie that’s out. The one with the ghosts and stuff? What do you think?”

  Roy’s eyes widened as I watched him in the rearview mirror. “If that’s what you really want to see…” he said nervously, trailing off.

  I laughed. “I’m just messing with you, kiddo.”

  “Dad!” Roy groaned playfully.

  “Roy,” I teased back, flashing him a goofy look.

  Roy giggled, and I was glad we had the rest of the day together, just the two of us.

  Chapter 8

  Elise

  I yelped and ripped my hand away from the bed when I pinched my finger between the metal frame as I tried to fold it up into a couch. I shook my hand out, my finger pulsing with heat, and then stuck it in my mouth to suck on it.

  Damn studio apartment sofa bed.

  When I had somewhat recovered, I resumed my task of folding up the bed into a sofa. Once I succeeded, I placed the pillows appropriately and did a quick look around my tiny apartment. It was clean. Well, clean-ish.

  My housekeeping skills paled in comparison to Kate’s. She loved a tidy house, just like our mother did, and she puttered around endlessly to find where things looked best and what complemented what.

  I, on the other hand, just sort of let my place become whatever it became. There were pillows all over the place, as well as mismatching coasters to protect my very old wood furniture from the half dozen cups of coffee I drank on a daily basis. There were half-dead plants in many corners, as well as mostly burned up candles and dusty picture frames.

  But it was my home. And I liked it. My little haven.

  Trying to compete with Kate was foolishness. And she didn’t give a damn.

  She was coming over any minute now, and I always got paranoid that she would be uncomfortable in my space. Any time I ever brought it up with her, she assured me I was being a crazy person. She liked my apartment just the way it was, and even if she didn’t, it shouldn’t matter, so long as I liked it.

  But like most of society, I was weak, and I still felt like I was being judged.

  When the timer went off on the stove, my doorbell buzzed at the same time. I answered it and told Kate to let herself up as I held down the button on the intercom, linked to the apartment building’s front door. The light on the intercom went green, showing me she had made it inside.

  Then I rushed to the oven, opened the door, and peered in at the food I was preparing. I grabbed my oven mitts and pulled out the tray of baked brie.

  It smelled heavenly, and it looked delicious. It was much nicer than the things I would usually prepare.

  I’d spread a layer of apricot jam over the top and sprinkled it with cayenne pepper and some sautéed onions. Then I’d baked the brie wheel with slices of baguette placed around the edge
s.

  Kate knocked on my front door.

  “Come in!” I called.

  She stepped inside and locked the door behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks as I pulled off my oven mitts and hung them back on the hook beside the stove. “Did you cook?” she asked.

  I put my hands on my hips, assuming a Superman pose, and nodded. “You bet your ass I did. I think ‘cooking’ is a stretch, but I smothered some cheese in jelly and baked it.”

  Kate walked over and peered down at the cheese. “This looks incredible.” Her stomach growled, and she giggled. “I’m starving. I thought we were going to order in?”

  I shrugged. “We still can if this doesn’t end up tasting as good as it looks.”

  “Oh, it will be delicious. I’m sure of it. It’s cheese.”

  She was right, of course. It was hard to make cheese anything less than scrumptious.

  “Let’s let it cool for a couple minutes,” I said. “I have chilled white wine or a couple beers. Or water.”

  “Wine, obviously,” Kate said as she took off her jacket and shoes. She put them by the kitchen counter, and I poured us each a glass of wine. Red would have been better with the cheese, but I couldn’t come up aces with everything tonight, no matter how hard I was trying.

  Within five minutes, we were sitting on pillows on the floor at my coffee table, spreading melted brie cheese onto our perfectly baked slices of baguette. It was rich, decadent, and exactly what I’d been hoping for.

  Kate chewed, swallowed, washed her first piece down with a sip of wine, and instantly went in for a second piece of bread. “Elise. Seriously, this is so good.”

  “Thanks, I’m glad it turned out. I wasn’t sure.”

  “It’s marvelous.”

  “How was your day?” I asked.

  Kate shrugged. Her mouth was full again, so she covered it with her hand as she spoke. “All right. Mom called me. Did she call you, too?”

  I shook my head. “No, what’s up?”

  “She needs a bit of extra cash for Dad’s blood pressure medication. He has to renew his prescription and, lo and behold, the price went up again.”

  “Big Pharma.” I sighed. “Bastards.”

  “Yeah, I have a bit of extra money I can throw their way but not a ton.”

  “I’ll call Mom tomorrow. I might have a big payday coming my way.”

  Kate’s eyebrows crept up to her hairline. “Oh? What sort of payday might this be? Is it writing related?”

  I nodded. In the past, any time I’d come into decent money, it had nothing to do with my actual passion because it was hard to make good money off of writing. “Winzly got me a meeting with a PR rep from Treo Publishing.”

  “Oh shit, seriously?”

  I nodded. “Yep. I have dinner with him tomorrow to talk about potentially signing a deal. I think that, maybe, just maybe, I may have landed myself something really good here. Real money, Kate. The sort of money that could really help Mom and Dad out and maybe make a serious difference. They might not have to live paycheck to paycheck if I can help it.”

  “Elise,” my sister said slowly. “This is your victory. Don’t go throwing it all to Mom and Dad right away.”

  “I’m not throwing it to anyone.”

  Kate licked her lips. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?” I asked, taking a sip of wine.

  Our parents had lost a lot of money when we were younger. Before the crisis, we’d been a very, very well-off family. We lived in a sprawling, five-bedroom home with a view of the ocean. We had a formal dining room and living room, as well as a casual family room where we would often sit together and watch movies. My childhood was ideal, happy, and safe, but when Kate and I were teenagers, something happened within my father’s company.

  Something bad. Something he still didn’t talk about with us to this day.

  My dad took steps to stand up to a boss who wasn’t fit to run the company, and then he was shamed for it and pushed out of his career. We lost everything. Our home. Our cars. All of our possessions. We had to start from scratch.

  We lived in the Harbor Maine motel for three months before we were able to find a basement suite with rent we could afford. My mother went back to work, and my father found someone who was willing to hire him. He got a job in bookkeeping for a small firm, and my mother worked in a gift shop. She had been a stay-at-home mom and didn’t have many skills to bring to the workplace. Well, at least on paper, she didn’t. Realistically, she’d be a good fit for any job. She was competent, a quick learner, a brilliant multitasker, and a resourceful problem solver.

  Like most good parents had to be.

  The big lifestyle change had been more than difficult. Kate and I could no longer participate in afterschool extracurricular activities because our parents couldn’t afford it. We had to get part-time jobs while in high school, which wasn’t terrible, but it had never been part of the game plan. Growing up wealthy made it so that neither of us really thought about joining the workforce so young.

  To be honest, I hadn’t thought about entering it at all.

  Things were harder now, but they were still good. My parents were good people who were doing everything they could to make ends meet. My father’s compromised health didn’t help things, so Kate and I did everything possible to help out. Because that was what family did.

  Kate scooted back on her pillow and crossed her legs neatly under herself. “All I meant was Mom and Dad need help, sure, but they wouldn’t want you spreading yourself too thin. Especially if this is money you’re going to make off your book. This is your success, and you should celebrate it, not give it all away the second it’s in your bank account.”

  “I know you’re looking out for me, Kate, but you don’t have to. I can make my own decisions.”

  “I’m your big sister,” she said with a small shrug. “I can’t help but want to look out for you.”

  “This is Mom and Dad we’re talking about. We’ll get our break, Kate. Don’t worry. It won’t always be like this. I think maybe this is a stepping stone for us to start making real money again. Who would have thought it would come from my writing?”

  “Me,” Kate said simply.

  I smiled. “And I appreciate your support. I always have. You’ve been in my corner from the beginning.”

  “And until the end,” she said, raising her wine glass.

  I giggled. “I’m digging the dramatic flair.”

  “I thought you might.” She winked, but her joyful expression faltered after she took a sip of wine.

  I spread more brie on a piece of bread and watched her. “I’ve always sort of been proud of our family,” I said.

  Kate didn’t say anything as she reached for another piece of baguette.

  “It shows our resilience and our strength. I don’t think many families could stick together the way we did. After Dad was shunned, we all put our minds to the task of surviving. And we did. Sure, it’s been rough, but it hasn’t been bad. I don’t know.” I sighed, leaning back against my sofa. “I kind of like the struggle.”

  Kate nodded. “But it would be nice if it was behind us.”

  I watched my sister. Maybe things had been harder for her as the older sibling. I wanted to ask her but kept my mouth shut. It was something I knew she didn’t like to talk about in depth. It was a sensitive topic for her.

  So I changed the subject to something a bit lighter. “Are you still thinking about Elijah?”

  Kate nearly choked on her bread. Once she coughed and pounded her chest a couple times, she gave me a wry look. “Maybe.”

  I laughed, and so did she, and the rest of the evening was swallowed up by lighter conversations and plenty of laughter.

  And lots of talking about how good looking Elijah was.

  Chapter 9

  Dallas

  Even though my father didn’t come to Treo anymore, he still managed to drop by unannounced at least once a week to keep all the emplo
yees on their toes.

  When he popped by on Monday afternoon, I was in the middle of a conference call with one of the writers we had acquired last year and a big book distribution chain. My father paused in the doorway, and I waved him in. He was the owner, and despite me wishing I could tell him to take a hike until the call was over, I knew I could do no such thing.

  So I put on a good show on the call while he watched and listened, and no doubt overanalyzed every word that came out of my mouth.

  The call wrapped up after about fifteen minutes, and when I hung up the phone, my father crossed one leg over the other and adjusted his gray suit jacket. “That sounded promising,” he said coolly.

  “It was.”

  He waited for me to elaborate. When I remained mute, he cast his gaze around the office. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s a lot… simpler.”

  The office used to be my father’s when he took over the company and tripled its growth within the first two years of his reign. When he sat in this chair, the room had been a lot more ornate. He had filled it with dark cherry oak bookcases and stocked them up with elegant old books with leather bindings and gold titles pressed into the spines. The desk itself had been that same rich wood, and he’d kept it relatively tidy, save for his jade sculpture and gold name plaque.

  He had also had rugs put all over the floor, and the fireplace behind the desk was always on. I had yet to use it in the five years this had been my office, and I didn’t plan on ever turning it on. For the sake of self-respect.

  And to prove the point that I was nothing like my father.

  I did not share his expensive tastes or his complete lack of empathy for his fellow employees and coworkers. I handled my writers better, too, because I knew that without them, this business would crumble.

  The fact that I had maintained his numbers for my first year in this position was never discussed. We also never talked about how the company had less turnover now that he didn’t work at the office, and our sales were better than they had ever been.

  “I can’t concentrate when there’s too much stuff laying around,” I said.