Family By Design

Jordan put the box on the counter and exchanged a look with his fiancée.

Nicole sighed. “Actually, we’ve decided against a formal wedding. We considered giving it a try, but there are too many George and Masters family bombs threatening to go off. It would be the Hatfields and McCoys, Seattle-style.” She clutched her forehead in mock horror.

“Oh, dear.”

Rachel knew that Nicole’s mother didn’t get along with Jordan’s mom, a long-time feud that the engaged couple had hoped would be put aside, at least for their wedding. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.

Jordan shrugged. “The fight runs too deep, and neither side wants to give up being angry. Maybe someday. But if it doesn’t, at least we live two states away.”

“I hope the battle doesn’t extend to the two of you.”

“Nope. Mom has decided Nicole is perfectly wonderful—despite everything—and Nicole’s mother says she can’t figure how I turned out so well with parents like that.”

“Yikes.” Rachel could imagine the battle scenes if the two families got together.

“Right.” Jordan put the salads she’d brought into the refrigerator. “It’s our own version of the Cold War and we don’t want it to heat up.”

“Then what are you doing for the wedding?”

“We’re going to our fallback plan. December or January, city hall, no friends or family except witnesses,” Nicole said succinctly.

“We won’t let them drag us into their fight,” Jordan added.

It made sense to Rachel. “Then let me do a nonwedding party afterward. We can have it at my place... Unless you’re planning to leave for a honeymoon immediately?”

“We’re still making plans for our honeymoon.” Nicole exchanged glances with Jordan. He nodded and she grinned. “But that sounds fabulous.”

“Sure does,” Jordan agreed. “Thanks. We wouldn’t leave until the next day, anyhow, and it would make the wedding day more special.”

Rachel knew Nicole didn’t care if she had a fancy wedding. Being in love and starting her married life with Jordan was what mattered to her, and all Jordan cared about was being with Nicole.

It was probably natural that Nicole had recently questioned whether Rachel might consider marriage again—she was in love and wanted the whole world to be in love with her. But Rachel didn’t think it was likely. Her life was good, and getting involved with someone could jeopardize the peace she’d finally found.

CHAPTER TWO (#uc66128d9-cdea-5cf0-b7b4-e2b7eac7f63e)

RACHEL DROVE TO the office on Monday morning feeling as if a hidden thought was nibbling at her mind. She’d experienced the sensation before and it often turned out to be something important she needed to consider.

Hopefully it would emerge in time.

As she pulled into the lot, she saw Matt Tupper stepping down from a transport van. He didn’t have his guide dog and was using his cane. She walked his direction, and he turned at the sound of her footsteps.

“Hey, Rachel,” he called. “Good morning.”

“I didn’t know my walk was that distinctive.”

“It isn’t hard to deduce. Not many people arrive this early and Nicole usually wears heels. You wear flats most of the time and walk with a different pace.”

Rachel didn’t explain that heels made her left leg ache.

She was learning about the importance of listening from Matt. Even if she hadn’t seen the tension in Simon Kessler’s face, his voice would have told her a great deal about him.

“Is Pepper all right?” she asked, trying to dismiss Simon from her mind. “She’s usually with you.” Pepper was Matt’s guide dog and she was devoted to Matt.

“Pepper is fine, but she’s due for her annual vaccinations. My brother offered to take her to the vet so I could get to the studio for an early recording. He’ll bring her by later. I’d give her the day off, but she’s restless when she isn’t with me.”

“How has it been going since you expanded?” she asked.

“We’re still getting the equipment installed for the second live studio, but it’s already booked ahead for months. Tara is coming in this weekend to ensure they finish the work.”

“That’s Tara Henley, your assistant.”

“Right. With the schedule so full, it looks like I’ll still end up doing books for the blind on Saturdays. Maybe it’s just as well since my volunteer readers have more available time on weekends.”

Matt owned a recording studio and had been one of the renters Rachel and her friends had inherited when buying the building along with Moonlight Ventures. He recorded radio spots, music and audio books, often hiring his vocal talent through the agency. Instead of being off the atrium area, he was in a rear div of the building where they had few renters, so it hadn’t been a problem to lease him additional space for the second studio. Ironically, their agency also needed to expand, but the space next to them was occupied, with several years left on the lease.

“That’s terrific,” Rachel said. “You may have to add a third live studio.”

He chuckled. “Maybe. As my dad says, success is a two-edged sword. Have a great day.”

ONCE INSIDE HIS STUDIO, Matt didn’t really need his cane. His employees knew to leave everything in its place or to tell him if something had been moved. He walked around with assurance, occasionally putting out a hand if he sensed something wasn’t right.

Even before losing his eyesight, he’d been aware of sound and how pitch and modulation changed in relation to everything else. He navigated relatively well for that reason, usually able to sense larger objects nearby, though he still stubbed his toes often enough. Losing his sight hadn’t even changed his college plans—he’d always intended to major in electronic communications.

The phone rang and he hit the speaker button. “Tupper Recording.”

“It’s Conan, Matt.” Conan’s voice sounded gravelly, as if he’d just got out of bed.

“What’s up?”

Conan started to say something, then broke into a fit of coughing. Obviously it was more than a rough morning voice.

“Got a cold,” he finally choked out. “We can’t make it today, but we’ll still pay a full fee for the recording session.”

“The cancellation fee in the contract is fine,” Matt said firmly. It made him uncomfortable when people tried to pay more than their contracts required. Maybe he was being ultrasensitive, but it felt as if they were giving alms to the blind.

“When can we reschedule?” Conan asked. He was an account executive for a major bank...who also blew a mean saxophone. His jazz band played in local clubs periodically, and they’d decided to record a CD under their own start-up label.

“Let me check the schedule.” Matt pulled it up on the computer. He used both a braille and audio reader, but preferred having the electronic braille device translate from the screen when other people might be able to hear. “I don’t have an opening until three weeks from today, 4:00 p.m.”

“That’s—” Conan had another fit of coughing. “We’ll take it,” he said when he could talk again. “Sorry about this. My kid brought the bug home from preschool and must have spread it to the whole band when we practiced a few days ago. I’ve been getting emails from everyone that they’re sick.”

“Get well soon,” Matt returned, entering the booking in the system and setting an electronic reminder to send a revision to the contract for signature.

“Thanks.”

Matt disconnected and automatically reached to rub behind Pepper’s ears, only to remember she wasn’t there. He missed her. He’d resisted getting a guide dog for years, but Pepper had become a friend who sensed his moods better than any human had ever done.

Sitting back, Matt listened to the sounds coming from the street and the whisper of the HVAC system blowing air through the vents. This was his kingdom and it was exactly where he’d always wanted to be...even if his life hadn’t been changed by a driver jumping the curb and plowing into a group of high school seniors.