Page 21 of A Package Deal

He raised his hand and knocked. The laughter stopped, and he heard feet thumping toward him. “Where’s your invitation?” Piper asked, peeking around the door.

“What invitation?”

“To our fashion show. It’s by invitation only.”

Chet tweaked her nose and opened the door. “I’m with the press,” he said, walking into the room. She giggled and Ava smirked. A snowflake pillow sat on the couch where a pumpkin one had been in the fall, but otherwise nothing had changed. It was a large and airy apartment with light gray paint on the walls and lots of natural light. Nelie had positioned a plant by the windows overlooking Main Street. Across from that was the outer door and deck—large enough for a small bistro table and two chairs—that led to the municipal parking lot below. It was a heavy steel door with a chain and a deadbolt, but Chet wished it had more, like a dragon and a moat.

A few dirty dishes and cups sat on the peninsula bar—no doubt from the girls’ after-school snack—and homework littered the kitchen table. It was nice to see homework on the table and not the stacks of business work and bills Nelie used to keep there. She’d made a lot of changes in the last few months, and he was proud of her. He knew it wasn’t easy to carve out a personal life when you owned a business. If an owner wasn’t careful, the business ended up owning them.

“What do you girls think of this one?” Nelie asked as she turned the corner. Chet’s eyes widened, and he gulped.

“Oh, hi,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t know we had company.” Chet unzipped his parka. The room was suddenly unreasonably warm.

“It’s not company,” Piper said. “It’s the press.” Chet nodded, forcing himself to blink.

“Turn around,” Ava said, spinning her finger, oblivious to her father’s distress. The girls sprawled on the couch, so Chet perched on the armrest. He wasn’t going to miss this show.

“Yeah, turn around. Slowly.” He’d been on enough beaches to know it was a modest two piece—not a bikini—but if he wasn’t there with her, it showed too much of her creamy, soft skin. Nelie squinted at him, but she complied. His heart thumped in his chest.

“Florida can be cold in March. Maybe you should wear one of those long-sleeved swim shirts?” he suggested, wondering where he could buy one for her.

“Eighty isn’t cold,” Nelie said, raising her eyebrow.

“You’ll burn. Working indoors year-round, your skin isn’t used to the sun. You need to treat sun protection seriously. Staying covered is your best option.” Her lips twitched.

“I’m sure I can find someone to rub sunscreen on the places I can’t reach.”

“That’s what worries me,” Chet grumbled, and she laughed at his discomfort.She’s enjoying this too much.

“I liked the red one best,” Ava said with an evil twinkle in her eye.

“The one with all the strings?” Piper asked.

“A red bikini?” Chet choked out, and Nelie slowly nodded as her smile bloomed.

“Should I go put that back on?” she asked, sounding helpful and innocent.

“Only if you’re trying to kill me.”

“Swimsuits can’t kill, silly,” Piper said, laughing.

Chet stood and rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension building in him. “Why don’t you two get yourselves packed up while I have a word with Nelie?” Chet gripped Nelie by the elbow and marched her down the hallway to her bedroom. The walls there were a deep bluish gray, and it looked like there was a colorful quilt buried under the clothes strewn across the queen-sized bed. He dropped her elbow and leaned against the doorjamb. The room smelled like her, spicy sunshine with a hint of grease. He wondered if the smell came from the kitchen below or if it was embedded in her work clothes.

“I know it’s a mess, but are you too afraid to come in?” she asked, pawing through the clothes on the bed.

“Lead me not into temptation and all that.” He stopped to catch his breath. “And right now, you are the poster girl for temptation.”

“So, you approve of the suit?”

“Is a burka an option?” Nelie’s brow cocked. His comment wasn’t politically correct or culturally sensitive, but he wouldn’t apologize. He was desperate. “How about one of those suits with the skirts that go to your knees and a long sleeve shirt?”

“No! It’s this or this.” His tormentor cackled, holding up the red bikini and pointing to what she wore. Chet quickly looked away, spotting a tropical-themed, one-piece swimsuit with a high square neckline by her pillow.

“How about that?” he asked, pointing to it.

“That one’s a keeper, but I need a backup.” He could handle one of those as a backup. Maybe.

“Do you have a cover-up to wear to and from the pool or beach?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

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