Life has a Plan of its Own

All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.

This one is a little different for me, and I'm interested in how it's accepted and what readers think of it.

*****

"So, what's going on in the mysterious world of the engineering lab?" Aimee asked just before taking a large bite of her chicken sandwich, the special sauce oozing out between her lips and dripping from her chin.

I shoved a napkin across the table. "We're creating a chicken sandwich that doesn't drip," I said, grinning and shaking my head.

"Smart ass," Aimee quipped, wiping her chin and then the table. "Stupid machine sandwiches."

"The key is the microwave setting."

Aimee swallowed her mouthful. "Mom worked here for forty years and talks about the cafeteria with freshly cooked food every day." She grimaced as she eyed her sandwich. "And the cafeteria was twice this size."

"Yes, what's the world coming to?"

"It's true. Even though this thing doesn't taste too bad, who knows how long ago it was made and what it's made of."

"You could always quit here and look for a company with a cafeteria that has freshly cooked meals."

"If I did that, you wouldn't have any friends here."

"Lots of truth in that," I said with a chuckle, realizing I wasn't the most popular person in this part of the company.

"Except for Bo, of course."

"Wash your mouth out with lye soap," I fairly spat out.

"Gotcha," Aimee gloated.

Bo was my anathema. Our sales manager, it appeared that he couldn't care less about engineering, or safety, or reliability. He simply wanted products to be available two weeks before the deadline. I could never convince him that those other three things were the key to making the product popular and to maintain our clientele. I knew he was under pressure to produce sales results so our division could stay in business.

I'd often tell him I didn't want to have one of my projects appear on that Science Channel show, "Engineering Catastrophes." It bothered me that he never sought me out to hear my side. I was always the pain-in-the-ass engineer that was delaying everything.

"You got me for sure. That comment was like a knife to the gut."

"You're sitting here watching me eat. Aren't you getting some lunch?"

"I'm skipping lunch for a while to lose a few pounds."

"Are you kidding me, Lis? If I had a body like yours, I'd, well. I'd have a boyfriend and three others chasing me."

I just shook my head. With working late and weekends, I was missing gym time, and my running had nearly disappeared. Consequently, I'd gained four or five pounds. I'm five-seven with an athletic build. That's slender-athletic rather than body-builder athletic, and extra pounds migrate to my belly. So, when I gain a few, it's immediately obvious.

To get rid of the extra, I usually just ran a few more miles or spent an extra half hour at the gym, and the belly bulge would disappear. With my current workload, my usual plan wasn't going to work.

"My body must not be that good since I don't have a boyfriend, let alone three others chasing me."

"That's your own fault. You work too much and are way too fussy when it comes to men. And, before I forget it, don't skip meals; just count calories."

"That sounds like work."

"A little, but you're a numbers person. When the hub wants to lose ten pounds, he counts calories for two weeks, and it's gone."

"Aimee, it can't be that simple."

"I don't know, but that's what he does. I need to get back to work, and you need to grab one of those chicken sandwiches. See ya, Lis."

Aimee was off, and I was staring at the vending machine. I was hungry...and I had money in my pocket, which was unusual. I stuffed the money in the machine, nuked the sandwich, and hurried back to my office. Aimee was right; the chicken wasn't bad at all.

*****

My cell phone buzzed a little after four, a convenient time since I was between reviewing a couple of drawings and overseeing a life test being started.

"Wow, you picked up." my sister Marisa said before I had a chance to say hello.

"Good timing."

"Listen, I'm making Gramma's beef roast recipe tonight. Why don't you stop by and help us eat it?"

"Ugh. I'd like to, but I've been working late on this new product and..."

"It's Brian's birthday."

Marisa always had a way of finalizing things when I was reluctant to do what she wanted. She was six years older than me and had married Brian just before he was drafted into the NBA. She never shared how many millions he'd made in the six years he played, but I'm sure it was getting close to triple-figure millions. He'd started a real estate business after he'd hurt his knee again and had his third surgery. Who didn't enjoy buying a house or a business from a good-looking six-foot-nine former pro basketball player who most had seen on TV at one point or another?

"Don't tell him I forgot all about his birthday." Stupid job. If they didn't pay me so well, I might look for something else.

"I kinda figured. So, you'll be here?"

"Not that you and Brian aren't good company, but Gramma's beef roast?"

"Figured that too. How's six-thirty fit into your overwhelming schedule?"

It didn't fit at all, but I was going to make it fit. All work and no play make Lisbet a dull girl. And that did fit.

"I'll be there."

Technically, my work day was eight to five with an hour for lunch, kind of old-fashioned, but it fit well with the owner, who was seventy-four, but still working part-time to kind of oversee things. Senility seemed to be taking him over, so we ignored many of his suggestions as he usually didn't remember making them. I was often still at work at seven-thirty, but tonight would be different.

I left at five sharp, sort of sneaking out, and stopped at Barnes and Noble on the way home. I knew Marisa had been after Brian to read a little more since he had lots of leisure time, so I decided a book might be in order. I wanted fiction because I knew that would be a change of pace for him, but I hoped it could still be about sports since I didn't want to push him too far afield from his regular pursuits.

I checked with one of the clerks, and she guided me to This Was Never About Basketball by Craig Leener. Checking the jacket, I discovered it was about basketball, but much more as well, even some fantasy. Maybe I could broaden his experience even more than I'd first thought. I bought it.

At home, the home that Brian had purchased for me and allowed me to pay him back interest-free, I showered quickly and put on some presentable clothing. I didn't need to impress them, but once in a while, it was fun to clean up a little.

At twenty-five past the hour, I opened their front door. "I'm here," I called loudly.

"Holy shit!" Brian yelled. He was standing by the door. "I was going to leave the door open for you, but you scared the crap out of me."

Thank the gods, he was laughing. A two-hundred-and-seventy-pound giant can be frightening, even if he's your brother-in-law.

"Come in, sis. I think Brian is awake now."

"Awake?" I questioned as I stepped around Brian.

"Yeah. His buddies had a tee time of zero dark thirty this morning, and he was taking a recovery nap just before you got here."

I chuckled. "Your golf clubs are probably as long as I am."

He stepped back and looked at me from head to toe. "Pretty close."

After that, I received a warm bear hug from the big guy.

"Oh, and happy birthday," I continued, handing him the colorful sack that contained the book.

He checked it out and smiled. "Thanks, Lis. I'll read this one next." Turning toward the kitchen, he called, "Hey, Mars, Lis got me a book."

In just a second, Marisa appeared in the family room. "Let me see." She quickly had the book and checked the cover. "Good job, sis. I've been trying to get him to read more, and not on his computer or tablet or, heaven forbid, his phone."

"Are you like your sister?" he said to me. "Bossy, domineering, and stubborn as a bull ox."

"I admit to the first two," Marisa said with a chuckle, "but I won't be compared to an ox, thank you."

"If I could have hit two out of three when I was playing, I'd probably still be playing."

"Yeah, with two artificial legs, or at least, knees."

"It smells delicious in here," I said, changing the subject. And that was a severe understatement.

"It's about ready, too," Marisa said, pivoting and hurrying back toward the kitchen.

"Glad you could come," Brian said. "Your sister worries about you working so hard."

"Well, if you could find a rich basketball player for me to marry, I wouldn't have to do that."

"If you were serious about it, I probably could," Brian answered with a laugh. "You are one good-looking and very intelligent woman. It might be difficult to find a basketball player who could keep up with you."

I always blushed when Brian told me how good-looking I was, and I think he did it on purpose just to see my pink cheeks. Marissa always told me he was serious and never failed to mention it to her when I was around. Whatever.

"I think you kind of hinted at it there, Brian. I'm kind of picky when it comes to my men, and that's why there are no men in my life."

"I'm not being critical, don't get me wrong," he said, leading me to the dining room, "because I knew quite a few guys and a couple of ladies that made bad choices, and they've paid for it with ugly divorces and a good bit of nastiness. I'm just fortunate I found the good one, and she's still satisfied with me."

"I don't think satisfied is quite the right word there, Brian."

"Well, you know what I mean," he replied. Sending a loving look toward the kitchen.

It was times like that when I was a mite jealous of my sister.

"I do, but where are my favorite two nieces?"

"At my mom's," he answered. "She'd board them permanently if we'd let her.

"Is she lonely since your dad died?"

"I think so. She's talking about moving closer to us. And by closer, I mean a block or two, if possible. She and Mars get along so well that we're thinking of adding a mother-in-law suite to this place."

"Oh my gosh, she'd love that."

Brian seated me as was his wont each time I visited for dinner, and it always made me a tiny bit melancholy that I didn't have my own man to do that. It passed quickly, though.

Dinner was absolutely delicious, as always, since my sister prided herself on her culinary expertise. She enjoyed cooking and studied it, always searching for something new to surprise Brian or whatever dinner guests they might be having. Even me, sometimes.

"So, Lis," Marisa began when the table had been cleared, and we had moved to the family room, "do you have a big trip planned for this summer?"

She knew I didn't, so I wondered what was up. I eyed her suspiciously.

"No plans yet. Why?"

"I just think you need to plan a nice trip. Maybe to Europe or one of those Caribbean islands. Maybe take a cruise and meet someone."

Ah, there it was, and it wasn't a big surprise. My first reaction was always resentment, but I eventually mellowed, realizing she really wanted the best for me and was willing to push me to get there.

"I'm in the midst of a mess at work, and the new product I'm responsible for is a little behind. I tried to warn them that they wanted too much too fast, but the people who needed to hear it weren't listening. But that's another subject, and I don't need to bore you guys."

"You're not, and you need somewhere to blow off steam."

I sighed. "I promise to look into it. A couple of friends at work gush about cruises and the islands."

"We've taken two or three and loved them," Brian added.

My summer vacation was eventually dropped in favor of my two nieces, a quick review of NBA affairs, and possible updates to Brian and Marisa's home.

The last was very interesting to me. I was reluctant to refer to their home as a mansion, but it was obvious that money hadn't been an issue when it was built. And now, they were looking to modify the place. Marisa ticked off four or five things they wanted to accomplish, which reminded me that I had brought my monthly loan repayment check, which I presented to Brian.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, stuffing it into his shirt pocket. Things like that always reminded me that not only did he earn millions, but he and Marisa were frugal, and with his good fortune in finding a shrewd and capable financial advisor, his bank account continued to grow. Top that off with his highly successful real estate business, and they were sitting pretty.

"Listen, I hate to poop your party, but I'd better get going. I brought a little work home, so I'd better get to it." I turned to Marisa. "Thanks so much for insisting I do this. I know I'm a pain sometimes and need to get out more often."

I received a big hug from each of them. "Tell those girls I missed them, and I want to keep up with the mother-in-law thing."

"Will do, and I'm nearly positive it's going to happen. Just a few details to work out. At least we won't have to convince Grandma to move. She's ready."

At home, I dug into the work but surprisingly cut it off at eleven and went to bed. I think Marisa had tweaked my independent side, but just slightly.

*****

"I looked for you last night, Lisbet, but couldn't find you," Radley said, a questioning look on his face.

"What time was that?"

"Um, about five-fifteen or maybe five-thirty."

"I was gone. My sister invited me to dinner, and I went." No apologies, just the facts.

Radley Batting looked like he was about to challenge me, but I think the tone of voice I used quelled his curiosity.

"No problem. Come on to my office. I've got something I want to run past you."

Run past me? Tell me what to do was more like it. Radley used all the right words. His actions very seldom tied in with those words. But, he paid me well, and, as a sidebar, he realized that if I walked away today, figuratively, the roof would collapse.

"How would you like a trip to Hilton Head?"

"Is that a trick question?" It just didn't sound like Radley.

"Not at all. The big engineering show where we present your project is in Hilton Head, and I need you there to explain everything and answer questions. It's five days and..." He paused, obviously for effect, and I couldn't hide my excitement. "The show starts on Monday and lasts five days. I'll spring for two additional days so you can enjoy the place."

Running it past me was a formality because I had to be there. I was the only one who could explain and answer. And Hilton Head. Golf and tennis, and I enjoyed both, particularly the tennis. At least two days on my own, with lots of good food on the other days. The show and kissing ass for the potential customers would be a pain, but it might well be worth it.

"Boss, that sounds good."

And it actually did. After my sister's lecture about taking a cruise or zipping off to a Caribbean island, Hilton Head would be a good compromise. I might get some tennis in and a little beach time to darken my pale skin a mite. I did tan rather nicely despite all the warnings that it was bad for you. If I really adhered to everything that was supposed to be bad for me, I'd probably go live in a cave and eat nothing but kale. Hilton Head. Yeah.

Matter-of-factly, Radley added, "And Bo will be going too."

I felt like my blood had turned to ice water. Bo would be going...and we'd have to be together way too much for my liking. Even a few seconds would be too much, but a whole week. I'd gone from floating on a heavenly cloud to the gates of hell with just a few words from our boss.

"Bo will be going?" I questioned, nearly cringing.

"Oh, sure. He has to take care of the sales part and the back-slapping. I don't think you care much for that, do you?"

He had me there. I hated that part of it, even though I knew I'd probably be sharing dinner with potential customers every night we were there.

A sudden thought thrust itself into my brain. "Will he be sharing the extra two days with me too?" I mean, I could probably avoid him for those two days, but it was just the thought that had me wanting to stay home.

Radley smiled. "I made the same offer to him, but you two certainly don't need to do everything together.

Everything? Anything was more than I wanted.

He lowered his voice. "Listen, I've heard scuttlebutt that you two don't get along well, but I don't see any other way for us to be effective at this show. You're the key because I know Bo won't be able to explain anything about the product...except maybe the pricing structure and outlandish delivery promises. I've talked to him, but I hope you can rein him in with your common sense and your sense of reality, things he doesn't possess."

How do you rein in a horse whose only desire is to run wild? That might be an interesting experiment...and would probably open me up to a tongue-lashing or getting kicked in the teeth at some point.

How could I handle this? Or, more realistically, COULD I handle it? I only had a couple of choices. I could quit and look for a new job, or I could suck it up and go to Hilton Head...with Bo. Ugh. I knew that Radley wouldn't cotton to my refusing to go at this critical point.

I decided I had to do it.

"Hey, I hear we're heading to Hilton Head together," Bo said, that big Sales Manager smile spread across his face. Together? I much preferred saying that we were going at the same time. Unfortunately, the company had booked our plane tickets with adjoining seats. I'd be trapped for a couple of hours.

Far too soon, Sunday arrived. Our plane left at eight in the morning, so we'd have a good two hours together during the flight to Savannah. An hour's drive to the island, and we'd have half a day to kill. I prayed we wouldn't kill each other during that time.

Way too early, at least to my liking, I was at the airport, lugging my luggage to security, taking off my shoes, and having my bottle of water confiscated. Past the smiling TSA agents, I stopped at one of the food vendors and replaced my water, stashing the two bottles in my backpack. I also grabbed a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, surprised that it was delicious. It was seven o'clock...and I was alone. Could I hope?

Nope.

"Lisbet, you beat me. Want to grab something to eat? It's on me."

"Bo, we're both on an expense account."

"Sounded good, though, didn't it?" he said with a big laugh.

I'm sure that was just a prelude to what lay ahead of me.

I showed him what was left of my sandwich. "Very good, too." He checked the wrapper.

"Be right back."

"Take your time," I wanted to call after him.

He was back too quickly...with two sandwiches.

He sat down and began munching. " You're right; this is good. You want half of the other one?"

I showed him the couple of bites I still had left. "This will fill me up, but thanks."

"Trying to hang onto that gorgeous figure, huh? Don't blame you." Although I was sitting down, he scanned my body from head to foot.

"Please watch my backpack while I go to the lady's room?"

"Sure. Don't stay away too long."

I thought I might try a just in case in the lady's room, but already, I needed a break from Bo. He always seemed just a bit over the top, very different from my usual demeanor. The coming week might be a learning experience.