Family by Design

by Callie Endicott

  Matt stood up. “Why don’t we go for something at the Crystal Connection? You can’t feel up to reading this morning and I need to stretch my legs. I came in at 5:00 a.m. to catch up on work.”

  “All right,” Gemma agreed after a moment.

  At the Crystal Connection he ordered black coffee while she had hot chocolate. Pepper’s tail lashed back and forth against his leg and he grinned; she was hoping for a treat, but was too well behaved to ask for one.

  “Penny, do you still have that jar of dog treats on your counter?” he asked.

  “Naturally. I have one for cats, too, but we don’t get many of them. Would Pepper like a snack?”

  “I’m sure she would.” He removed the golden retriever’s harness. She eagerly moved forward, and he heard her teeth click as she caught the treat and chomped it down.

  “Say thank you, Pepper,” he instructed.

  Pepper yipped and circled back so he could replace the harness.

  “What a good girl. She’s so polite,” Penny said.

  Matt was glad to hear Penny sounding more like herself. “Thank you. She rarely breaks discipline. Ready, Gemma?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  They returned to the studio and he detected the faintest hint of unevenness in her step. Odd that he’d missed it when she first arrived, but he was having trouble keeping his perceptions sorted out with her. She’d talked about her brother having great charm as if she didn’t share his gift, but her voice and laugh were enticing.

  “I should have gone to the Crystal Connection and let you rest,” he muttered, feeling distinctly lacking in chivalry.

  “Not at all. Moving around will help keep me from getting stiff. Besides, I didn’t realize until we got there that I felt like having cocoa. This time of year makes me want to curl up with a cup of hot chocolate and play a corny movie.”

  Matt didn’t play many corny films. Any sort of saccharine sweetness was too much for him.

  “I’m mostly a fan of nonfiction. Historical biographies, interviews of interesting people, that sort of thing. Not always easy to find on television these days.”

  “I like that, too. A man after my own heart.”

  Matt grinned. “Afraid I’m not after anyone’s heart. Few women seem to be able to handle me being blind.”

  Silence followed and he wondered what Gemma was thinking. Most of the time he was at peace with not being able to see, but there were moments when he’d do anything to read someone’s expression.

  “That...that isn’t a very flattering opinion of my sex,” she said at length.

  “I’m not claiming men would do any better if the shoe was on the other foot.”

  “Well, I believe you’re wrong. You’d just have to give someone a chance to adjust and learn. Give-and-take is needed in all relationships.”

  Matt unlocked the door of the studio. “Like the way your mother enables your father to drink? That kind of give-and-take I can do without.”

  There was another long silence and he started to regret the tactless comment. Gemma had confided about her parents’ codependent relationship and he had no right using it to deflect an uncomfortable subject.

  “You know, maybe I don’t feel up to doing the reading today,” she said before he could apologize. “Thanks for the cocoa. I’ll get going now.”

  “Are you coming back?” he asked, worried the answer would be a resounding no. “It wouldn’t be for two weeks. The studio is booked for next Saturday.”

  “Why not? I should be better by then.”

  * * *

  FUMING, GEMMA DROPPED her cup in a trash can and hurried to her car, ignoring the protests from her sore hip and knee. For the most part she liked Matt, but today he’d proved he could be a complete jerk.

  Predictable, Olivia Kessler would have said.

  Gemma had learned a good deal about men and marriage from Mrs. Kessler. She’d been understanding of her husband’s utter lack of interest in design, saying it was only fair, since she wasn’t interested in high finance, his area of expertise. She’d seen her spouse for who he was, a generous, brilliant man with a truckload of demons from his past.

  Matt had demons, as well. One thing was certain, he’d decided his lack of sight was an insurmountable barrier to a romantic relationship. And she’d been too polite to inform him that his attitude was likely the biggest reason he’d never get married or have a long-term girlfriend.

  Sure, some people couldn’t handle having a partner who had a physical challenge, but that didn’t mean everyone should be painted with the same dismissive brush. Matt having a drinking problem would be a far bigger issue to her than his not being able to see. But she’d need to feel it was okay to ask questions and talk openly with him about his lack of sight—without being thought less of for not knowing everything already, or being judged for whether she had responded correctly.

  Gemma pulled off the road at a supermarket and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She could return and tell Matt what she thought of his behavior, but it might reveal that she’d started to like him too much. Besides, she could be wrong and something else was bothering him today.

  Or maybe she was just making excuses, the way her mom made excuses about her husband.

  Gemma dropped her head back and closed her eyes, trying to sort her racing thoughts. Sometimes it seemed as if she’d spent her entire life trying to earn her family’s approval. What Matt had said about it being their problem made sense, but she needed time to let go of feeling like a failure.

  Finally she got out and went into the market to buy groceries. Once Drake got home, he could take over hand-holding their parents while she had a real vacation. But it wouldn’t be relaxing if she just went back to the Kesslers’ condo, so she needed to decide where to go and what to do...preferably not thinking about Matt Tupper.

  Victoria, up in British Columbia, sounded nice. She’d grown up in the Seattle area, but she’d never had a chance to visit Vancouver Island. She could spend some solid time there and then come home to do another session at the recording studio.

  Maybe by then she wouldn’t be tempted to scream a few hard facts at Matt.

  * * *

  SOON AFTER THE awkward encounter in her office, Rachel began having daily meetings with Simon. Their work together was relatively fruitful. She loved being busy and productive, but the ongoing tension was stressful. Or maybe it was the way he made her feel.

  Toward the end of the first week she noticed he seemed preoccupied, but he denied it when she asked if something was bothering him.

  He plainly wasn’t becoming more conversant with fashion, but he supported doing a children’s clothing line, and even brought Livvie to a couple of their work sessions. Together they’d selected a target set of designs for the next collection and discussed his impressions of the designers he was interviewing.

  Curiously, Rachel was coming to the conclusion that deep down, Simon resented Liv’ing Creations. She knew he questioned whether Olivia had kept their mutual promise to make family a priority, but was that the only reason?

  “I need to make a decision about Miriam in the next few weeks,” Simon told her after their appointment the second Monday. “Is there any chance you can make some calls to find out what your contacts in the fashion world have to say about her? I’d like as much information as possible before taking action.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Rachel promised.

  When he was gone she placed several calls, but it wasn’t until the next day that anyone could get back to her. Unfortunately, her contacts had few observations to make about Miriam Timmons.

  Adequate.

  A fair organizer.

  Keeps a low profile.

  The “low profile” remark was probably a compliment since designers preferred being in the spotlight. She finally took her own advice and searched for
both Miriam Timmons and Janine Jenkins on social media. The things she learned were interesting and after additional research, she called Simon to share her conclusions since they didn’t have an appointment scheduled.

  “How about discussing it over dinner tonight?” he suggested. “Livvie is having a sleepover with a friend from school and I’m at loose ends.”

  “Mr. Overprotective Daddy is letting his daughter go to a sleepover?” Rachel teased.

  “Do overprotective fathers let their children have a kitten with very sharp claws and teeth?”

  “That depends. What else has happened with Jelly Bean?” So far she’d been regaled with tales of Jelly Bean climbing the curtains, getting on top of the kitchen cabinets and breaking Livvie’s laptop.

  “She should be renamed Tornado. Last night she destroyed my CD player and sank every single claw into me when I rescued her from the fishbowl, which, by the way, now belongs to the barista at the Java Train Shop. Rocky mostly sleeps on his back with his paws in the air, or watches Jelly Bean’s antics with bored disdain. He’s a relaxed personality. Practically catatonic.”

  Rachel bit her lip to stop a laugh. “Somebody should have warned you that kittens have an excess of energy. They don’t even stand flat on their feet, they just dance around on the tips of their toes, wreaking havoc.”

  “So I’ve discovered. How is Binx? Any damage to report?” Simon sounded hopeful.

  “Nope. We’re slowly making friends. I’m letting everything go at his pace. Meanwhile, I’m doing my best to keep Binx entertained with a feather-filled cancan show...meaning I’ve put out a bird feeder. It isn’t against the condo association bylaws, so I’m assuming no one will complain. Birds are great eye candy. You should see Binx quiver as they flit in and out. On the other side of the glass, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Rachel spun in her chair to look out the window and saw dark clouds were gathering. A brisk wind sent a flurry of leaves across the parking area and the water on the lake was choppy. Rain was practically a daily occurrence in Washington, but she’d rather be close to home that evening if a major storm was coming in.

  “Shall we meet at the Just Like Home Café near the Carthage?” she asked. “I don’t eat out often, but that’s usually where I go.”

  * * *

  SIMON WASN’T SURE about the suggestion.

  A café just like home?

  His mother had relied on dishes such as mac and cheese, chili and spaghetti because they were inexpensive and filling. Karen had employed a cook who’d informed him that she didn’t prepare special food for children; he could eat what she made or go hungry. As an adult he could appreciate the meals had been gourmet. As a kid he’d hated them, which was why he didn’t ask Livvie to do more than taste a new dish.

  “Sure,” he agreed, in spite of his doubts. “How about five o’clock? That way we’ll miss the evening rush.”

  “I don’t think our neighborhood has an evening rush, but five is fine. By going early, we might get home ahead of the weather.”

  Simon got off the phone and stared at the message his assistant had given him earlier. His so-called father had called. For the fourth time. Apparently he was in Seattle and wanted to talk, but Simon didn’t have anything to say, and wasn’t interested in anything Richard had to say, either.

  He crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash can, the same as he’d done with the other messages.

  Rachel was already at a table when Simon arrived at the café. She was talking with the server. “Hi, Simon. Meet Ginny. She’s a theater arts major at the U-Dub.”

  He nodded a greeting, vaguely irritated to discover Rachel was recruiting a new client while waiting for him. When they were alone, he lifted an eyebrow. “Do you find new clients wherever you go?”

  “Ginny isn’t a prospective client. When it comes to actors, Moonlight Ventures wants to see a performance before talking with someone. I’m too busy to search out new talent right now, but maybe once our last partner, Logan, arrives, I’ll work more actively to increase my client list.”

  Simon felt churlish for his initial reaction. Besides, he didn’t have any reason to object, even if Rachel had been using their meeting time to recruit another client. Liv’ing Creations was consuming a huge chunk of her time and she had a living to make. “Logan is the photographer, right?”

  “Right.”

  They opened their menus and he saw chili and spaghetti listed. Maybe this place was just like home. Then another item caught his attention. “Meat loaf sandwich?”

  “Don’t knock something until you’ve tried it. My mom makes a killer lemon-barbecue loaf that we love on sourdough rolls with horseradish. This one is different, but I like it, too.”

  Ginny returned with glasses of water and a breadbasket. “Have you decided what you want?”

  Rachel tapped a spot on the menu. “I’ll take a Caesar salad with the seared chicken breast. Light on the dressing.”

  “Meat loaf sandwich,” Simon decided. There were more ways than one to be adventurous. “With horseradish.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Rachel smiled when Ginny left to give their order to the kitchen. “If you don’t care for the meat loaf, they have sushi at the little grocery store up the street. You could grab some on the way home.”

  He doubted that plastic-wrapped sushi on a disposable tray could compete with a sushi bar in downtown Seattle, but didn’t say so. By unspoken accord they chatted about various subjects until the food arrived. His sandwich was generous and quite tasty.

  “I don’t know why people turn up their noses at this stuff,” he commented after he’d munched down a few bites. “It’s good. So, you have something to tell me about Miriam Timmons?”

  “I made a number of calls, but my contacts don’t know her well. That can be a good thing, meaning she’s simply focused on her job. A few mentioned she had okay organizational skills.”

  “Not exactly a resounding vote of approval.”

  Simon ate a crisp french fry. “How about Janine Jenkins?”

  “Actually, that’s where my research got more interesting. It seems she has other connections to Miriam. They graduated from the same university, a year apart, with similar majors. They’re also sorority sisters.”

  “Really?”

  * * *

  RACHEL NOTICED SIMON was wearing his poker face expression, suggesting something was bubbling beneath the surface.

  She hesitated. “You should know that a few sororities are sworn to support each other, no matter what.”

  “Meaning Miriam didn’t necessarily think Janine was a good designer, but recommended her because of something she’d promised to do back in school.”

  “It’s possible.”

  His face was grim. “So much for her loyalty to my wife.”

  “It’s just a possibility,” Rachel said quietly. “It could simply explain where they met. I know people who are supportive of their sorority sisters but don’t make decisions based on the relationship.”

  Simon grimaced. “Except Miriam told me she’d met Janine at a Paris fashion show. She even implied that Liv had admired her work. Given the differences in style, I find that hard to believe. She took advantage of how chaotic things were after Liv’s death to get me to hire Janine, hoping it would work out okay.”

  Rachel pulled a slice of crusty bread from the basket. Simon was justifiably upset, but she was more convinced than ever it went beyond a sense of betrayal that Miriam Timmons had fudged the truth.

  “Don’t make any snap judgments,” she said. “Ms. Timmons could have heard Olivia say something about Ms. Jenkins’s designs and didn’t realize she was just being polite.”

  “You don’t seriously believe that.”

  “I believe it’s wise to question whether Miriam Timmons is still the right fit for Liv’ing Creations, bu
t think it should be done with a clear head. I also think most of your anger is at yourself, because you didn’t keep a closer watch on the design house after promising your wife you’d preserve it for Livvie.”

  He glared at her.

  “Sometimes it sounds as if you hold a grudge against the place,” Rachel added impulsively, “maybe because Olivia loved it so much.” It was rash to raise such a touchy subject. Still, she’d said to him that friends told each other things they needed to hear. “So just be sure you aren’t taking those feelings out on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

  “I’m not—” Simon stopped and seemed to be fighting an internal battle. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll take everything into consideration when I make a decision. Anything else?”

  He bit off a huge chunk of his sandwich, and Rachel suspected it was to keep his frustration in check.

  “Just that if you decide to dispense with Ms. Timmons’s services, you might consider promoting from within. You could conduct interviews with each of the employees and try to get their views, find out how well they understand the overall operation and that sort of thing.”

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Sure. It’s a good thought.”

  Little else was said the remainder of the meal. Rachel had an expense account with Moonlight Ventures and intended to pay the check since agents commonly treated their clients, but Simon refused the offer.

  “You’re a consultant, not an agent,” he said. “And I still don’t have your first bill for services. So send it.”

  He sounded worse than a bear with a thorn in its paw.

  If they hadn’t been business associates, she might be tempted to just confront him and yank the thorn out, so to speak. But it would be a mistake. She couldn’t deny that she was beginning to have feelings for Simon. She also couldn’t deny that getting involved with him would be the same as begging for heartbreak.

  The shock had been when he’d talked about them becoming friends. Her consulting services for Liv’ing Designs would eventually end, but true friends should be forever. Maybe it was the small-town girl in her. Her hometown was near Seattle, yet in some ways it could be anywhere people brought chicken soup to sick neighbors, the volunteer fire department turned out to help paint the community center and everyone showed up for parades.