Eileen Slovak

Chapter Thirty-seven: Miss Wrong for Mr. Right

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Scarlet

In the Huntington, West Virginia airport I grab a cup of coffee while listening to my messages. Most are from Frank, with issues that need resolving. He knows I’m traveling. I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to do from here. I’ll check in when I have a break. Darren Duhamel called again wanting to have a second chance to show his invention. He claims he’s made some groundbreaking modifications. I make a note to add him to the list of potential stalkers and delete the message. The last message is from Barry who is flying in from New York for the two days of factory tours. He says he’ll meet me at the rental car desk.

      In a way, I’m grateful to get away, particularly from my personal life. I’m looking forward to seeing Barry. Our close contact helps keep communication lines open between the two offices. Even though Frank and Larry are brothers, they barely communicate effectively on the important things. Barry’s my main source of information, not only on what’s happening in the New York office, but also with office politics. While I’m still learning, he’s a born diplomat. If I possessed even a fraction of his powers of persuasion, I wouldn’t have to work so hard. I find him flirting with the pretty girl at the Enterprise desk. He’s looking elegant as usual in a custom-made suit that drapes well on his six-foot, two-inch frame.

      “Rhode Island’s hottest executive finally arrives,” he says, greeting me with a kiss on the cheek.

      “If Serena Jacobs heard that comment she might site you with sexual harassment.”

      Barry shoots me a look. “Oh, please, Serena Jacobs. Are you still letting her mess with your head? You have an in with Frank and Larry. Plus, you know I’m always in your corner. She’s one of those women who doesn’t like other women, especially successful ones. Watch your back. How was that layover in Charlotte, by the way? You know if you lived in a real city, you could get anywhere fast, like me.”

      I roll my eyes. We walk to the rental parking area chatting about business, exchanging details about what’s happening in both offices. February in West Virginia is surprisingly warm.

      “Is this all you brought?” Barry lifts my small carry on with ease and sets it into the trunk of the rental car. “I hope you packed a pair of dancing shoes.”

      “Where would we be doing this dancing? Haven’t you noticed we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

      “I thought you liked the country. Where’s your sense of adventure? I can’t wait to see our deluxe accommodations.”

      “Don’t tell me we’re staying in another roach motel. I didn’t pack my flip flops for the shower.”

      “Nah, I found a Marriott downtown with a nice big bar.”

      “Fancy ride too. How did you manage to score this?”

      “When I travel, I do so in style. Don’t tell Jeannie I upgraded, she booked me a compact.” He says pretending to hunch over the steering wheel. “Does the woman not see how tall I am?”

      Jeannie, his New York office assistant is meticulous. She guards the expenses as if the money is coming directly from her own pocket.

      “Thank goodness for frequent travel rewards.”

      “I’m starving,” I say, “so where are you taking me to lunch?”

      “Man, I thought New York broads were pushy! Okay, are you ready? You have your choice of ribs, chicken and ribs, fried chicken, or chicken fried steak. I’m thinking I’d like to try the chicken fried steak, out of sheer curiosity.”

      “There must be a diner around here that serves decent food. You can always trust diner food in the country.”

      “You would know, country girl.”

      “I’m not a bumpkin. Rhode Island happens to be one of the most densely populated states. It’s practically a thriving metropolis.”

      “I don’t know, I couldn’t live in the country, watching the corn grow.”

      “Definitely not. You’d be lost without all of the finer things.”

      “True. So how’s it living in a state so small you have to go to Massachusetts to change your mind?”

      “Hahaha! You need to visit more often. I’ll show you what you’re missing. People don’t leave because Rhode Island is a wonderful place to live.”

      “Some people don’t leave because they’re scaredy cats. I’m New York City born and bred. I’ll die a New Yorker. I’m not missing a thing. You need to move to the real city. Larry would love to have you working with us. Say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

      “I’d never do that to Frank.”

      “Why? It’s not like you’re leaving the company. You’d still be working for him, so to speak.  Eventually I think they’ll close the Rhody office. Then you’ll have no choice…or excuses.”

      “I hope not. I mean, I love the energy of New York City. It’s a place you can lose yourself in. But I’d miss the ocean too much.”

      “We have this place called the Hamptons. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

      Barry pulls into Deana’s Diner. The parking lot is full of pickup trucks and repair vans which I take as a good sign. In unknown territory it’s best to go where the locals hang out. Waiting by the ‘Please Wait to be Seated’ sign, we net a few curious looks, out of place in our business suits. Most of the patrons wear uniforms or jeans with flannel shirts and work boots. I nervously smooth the wrinkles in my skirt.

The diner’s a busy little place where the waitress doubles as the hostess, as well as the cashier. I watch her zip around serving, while simultaneously clearing. The plates flying by are stacked high. A pleasant coffee mixed with hash browns aroma hangs in the air. I’m reminded I haven’t eaten anything yet today. Country music playing in the background blends with the murmur of simultaneous conversations. I hear a bell ding-ding-dinging along with the cook’s growing impatience.

      “Keep your shorts on Mickey! I’ll be there in a second!” The waitress/hostess/cashier bellows. “Two for lunch?” She says brightly. “Right this way.”

      Her name tag says Deana. I have to practically jog to keep up with her. If I had my own business I wouldn’t want to work as hard as she does. I’d guess Deana’s in her mid-forties. Slim from all the running around in her navy-blue waitress uniform, she has a pleasant face. Her nineteen-fifties hairstyle looks like it requires a whole can of hairspray to maintain. It’s the perfect place to stash a few extra pens.

      “What can I get you to drink, darlin?” She asks, searching her pockets for a pen before finding the one tucked in her hairdo.

      “Two coffees please?”

      “Coming right up.”

      Deana’s back in a flash having snatched the coffee pot from the Bunsen burner where it sits warming. She flips over, then fills the two mugs from the table, withdrawing a handful of creamers from her apron pocket.

      “Menus are on the table. It’s rush hour round here. I’m busier than a one-armed paper hanger. Just holler when you’re ready to order.” With that she’s gone.

      “So, country girl, what are you thinking about?”

      “I’m thinking I’d like to order the whole menu.”

      “I’m getting the egg white omelet and splurging with dry wheat toast. I can’t remember the last time I ate carbs. I’ve been juicing lately for breakfast.”

      “I’m getting the breakfast special.”

      “Pretty sure that is the whole menu.”

      “Hey!”

      Deana’s sixth sense brings her back in a flash to take our order.

      “You two visiting for business, pleasure or both?”

      “Both,” Barry answers, beating me to it.

      “Oh, that’s nice. Well, enjoy your visit. This’ll just be a minute.”

      Deana shoots over to the pickup window. She grabs her order giving the chef a hard time.

      “Do you think they’re married?” I ask.

      “Seems like it, the way they get along.”

      “We would make a smashing couple, don’t you think?”

      “Right Scarlet!”

      He drinks his coffee black as I pour four creamers with two Splenda into mine.

      “Why not? We work for different branches of the company, no one would even know.”

      “Stop fooling around.”

      “Who says I’m not serious? We get along great. We have common interests, why not?”

      “Scarlet, I love you like a sister. You’re one of the smartest women I know, not to mention a total knockout. But a we you and me could never be.”

      “Wow, that’s harsh.”

      “We’d kill each other. We’d be worse than Mickey and Deana.”

      “I know, of course. I’m only kidding around.”

      After an awkward silence, I ask: “But, out of curiosity Barry, what is your type? Why haven’t you found Miss Right yet?”

      “It’s tough. I have a demanding job, long hours, travel, plus my busy social life doesn’t help. The right woman for me would have to understand all of that to fit into my life. I need a woman who’s focused on my needs. I don’t want to be competing for attention with my wife’s career.”

      “That’s not what I expected to hear.”

      “I’m sure it sounds really selfish. I want someone who loves being a mom, and taking care of the family unit. Someone who understands where I’m coming from spiritually and culturally.”

      “That shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

      “In New York? Are you kidding me? But I’m still trying. I know she’s out there.”

      “I’ll keep my eyes open for you, now that I know your type, the total antithesis of me.”

      “Come on Scarlet, you’ll never settle down. You’re all about work, traveling on a whim, going out with your girlfriends, doing whatever, whenever you want. You’ve got the world by the balls.”

      After Deana brings the food, we eat while we discuss expectations for the factory tours. We have some products that have become too costly to manufacture with our current sources. Larry wants to see if changing contracts will help. Really, he wants to move most of the items overseas. Meanwhile, Frank insists that a certain percentage of the products Lucky Chance represents bear the Made in the USA label. The subject is a constant source of debate between the brothers, with Barry and I stuck in the middle.

      I pay the check, leaving a big fat tip for Deana. We girls have to look out for each other.

I’m think about my recent conversations with Catherine. Maybe she’s right. It sounds like Barry wants an invisible woman too.

      When we arrive at the first facility, Josh Beauregard, the Manufacturing Plant Manager meets us outside the building. We shake hands, then Josh looks me up and down.

     “Ma’am, if you’ve got some pants with you, you’ll want to put them on before we do the tour.”

     I look at him confused. 

     He goes on, “We’ll be walking up metal staircases and scaffolds. Some of the boys down on the floor aren’t exactly what you’d call civilized.” He looks at Barry thinking another man will better get his meaning. He looks down at my high heels. “Those the only shoes you got?”

      “Barry, may I borrow the keys? I’ll be right back.”

      I grab my yoga pants and sneakers out of my suitcase, heading to the unisex employee restroom to change. It isn’t my first factory tour, but now I feel like a rookie. The air in the bathroom is close, the odor of urine overpowering. In the dim light inside the stall, I see a condom wrapper on the floor in the corner. I gingerly balance on one foot at a time so as not to let my pants legs touch the floor. Newly outfitted, I join Josh and Barry, anxious to get on with the tour. 

      Josh looks like he’s in his mid-thirties, with a trim beard, mustache and dirty blond hair. He wears work boots, jeans, a gray sweatshirt and a baseball cap with the word Marshall on it.

      “Is that your baseball team?” I ask, referring to the hat.

      “No ma’am, Marshall’s a football team.” He seems amused that I don’t know this.

      Josh leads us on a tour of the main office spaces. There’s a wood paneled, sparsely decorated room with four desks facing one another, piled high with paperwork. It’s bare bones, but functional.  

      “I’ll take you both to where the magic happens. Jus’ watch your step when we head up the scaffold. Wouldn’t want you falling or breaking an ankle or nothing,” Josh says.

      As we walk, I ignore the catcalls steadily coming my way. I’m relieved I took Josh’s advice, to ditch the skirt and heels.

      “Don’t pay them any mind, miss. They don’t see many women pass through here. We only have but a few working on the floor, plus one in the office,” Josh says. I wonder which of the female employees is responsible for entertaining the men in the restroom.

      Impressed by the operational capabilities, Barry considers the tour a success. Josh has ready answers for all of our questions. I inquire about production costs, packaging and shipping capabilities. Josh hands us a series of reports the owner of the facility prepared in advance. We thank him for his time.

      “I think that solves the made in America dilemma. I was impressed by their output and volume capability,” I say on the ride to the hotel.

      “I’m sorry we didn’t schedule back-to-back tours, we could have left tonight,” Barry says. “I need to make some calls. You want to meet in the lobby for dinner around six?”

      “Sounds good to me.”

      It’s only 4 p.m., I’ll have time to get some work done and go to the gym. I call Frank first to update him on the factory tour. He and Larry are meeting in New York with Allen, the company’s overseas representative. Allen, a former colleague of Frank’s, is one of my least favorite people. He’s too smooth and overtly pleasant. I suspect he would sell his own grandmother for a profit. It’s my understanding they are meeting to discuss a product problem resulting from Allen’s negligence. I expect he’ll wiggle his way out of the blame as per usual.

      Lucky Chance operates via a small in-house staff with the use of multiple consultants, like Allen, as needed. All of whom sign numerous nondisclosure contracts. There’s also a chemist, a team of lawyers, several engineers and Dominick, who runs a novelty items business.  Allen and Dominick are the go-to guys for many of the company’s products. I understand the benefit of hiring consultants, but feel Allen takes advantage of his relationship with Frank. The more items the company produces overseas, the more money he makes. I’m concerned the quality is not always up to standards. Dominick, on the other hand, consistently provides quality products and has saved my butt on more than one occasion.   

      Frank is busy for most of the afternoon, so he passes a few issues over to me for resolution. It’s amazing what can happen in a few short hours. I check emails again, write a few quick responses, then spend the next hour on the phone. A competitor is wooing one of our new inventors whose contract is up for renewal. He’s considering their offer. I’ve managed to convince him to stay on for now. Walter called out sick, so with both Frank and myself out of the office, Serena is in a panic trying to get approval on some personnel issues. According to Emilie, the breather has called seven times. I lose track of time and never get a workout in. I completely forget about meeting Barry in the lobby at six.

      Unable to reach me on my cell phone, Barry calls the room.

      “Hey busy lady. I’m growing old down here.”

      “Barry, I’m so sorry! I’ll be right down.”

      “You know where to find me.”

      I freshen up quickly, changing back into my skirt and heels.

      “Sorry!”

      Barry looks freshly showered. Knowing him, he probably fit in a nap as well.

      “Don’t worry about me,” he says, lifting his empty rocks glass. “Oh, but Allen said be sure to say hello, Charlotte.”

      “He did not call me Charlotte again! How long have I been with this company now? I suppose he gets your name right.”

      “Only because he’s impressed with my golf game. Don’t let it get you down Scarlet, it’s boys club BS. Maybe you should take up golf.”

      I scowl. Maybe I need a penis.

      “Forget him. Let’s have a drink,” Barry says, ordering me a chardonnay. “You look beat. Do you want to order dinner here in the bar?”

      “If you’re sure you don’t mind? I don’t know how much longer I’ll last; I was up at 4 a.m. to catch that six o’clock flight.”

      “We’ll save the dancing for another time. What you need is a vacation. When was the last time you took one?”

      “Pretty sad to admit, but I don’t remember.”

      “Very sad. I just came back from the Maldives with a lady friend. It was amazing. All work, no play, you know what they say? That’s you all the way.”

      “I don’t know how you balance it all Barry, while remaining so calm.”

      “The three P’s: priorities, patience, and practice.”

      The next morning’s factory tour goes as well as the first, but the production numbers were better at Josh’s plant. Barry’s flight is boarding first, so we part at airport security. I find a restaurant in the terminal where I can work on my laptop. Once I’m on the plane, I give my mind a rest. I actually nod off leafing through the Sky Mall magazine, fantasizing about the Maldives…and Scott.