Callie Endicott - Family By Design

“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.

RACHEL’S DAY PASSED quickly between desk work and site checks, which included visiting two photo shoots where new clients were booked. Everything was going smoothly in both locations.

Late in the afternoon she and Adam enjoyed rejecting a business owner who was supposedly searching for a model to represent his used-car dealership. The guy had raised alarm bells when they’d talked, so she’d checked him out further. Apparently he used what he called “casting calls” to meet and then try to date female models. Adam had wanted to be the one who told him to get lost but in the end agreed they could do it together.

She drove home in a good mood, encountering Gemma and Livvie when she stopped in the lobby to check her mailbox.

“Hi, Rachel,” Livvie cried. “We’re going to the lake. Can you come with us?”

Gemma nodded and smiled, but Rachel hesitated. When she’d mentioned spending time with Livvie if her father agreed, he hadn’t responded one way or the other. But surely he would have told Gemma if he didn’t approve.

“I’d love to,” Rachel said. “Can you wait a minute for me to change into something else?”

“Okay.”

She rushed up the stairs and slipped into casual clothes. Livvie’s face bloomed with pleasure when she got back and they headed toward the water. Once there, the child concentrated on her boat, while Rachel chatted with Gemma.

“It’s beautiful here in Washington,” Gemma murmured after a while. “So green and fresh. I missed it in New York, though we were able to see things like the Statue of Liberty and museums. I especially enjoyed Greenwich Village.”

Once again her clear, musical voice impressed Rachel, and she suddenly recalled the elusive idea that had been buzzing in her brain. She should have thought of it when she’d run into Matt Tupper that morning.

“Gemma, would you be interested in doing side jobs?” she asked. “At the agency we get calls for people to do narration or voice-overs and other vocal work. I’m sure you’d be great at it.”

“Oh, I never thought of such a thing. I’m not... I mean, I don’t have any experience and can’t imagine anyone would be interested in hiring me.”

“They might. I’m not saying you’d make a fortune or anything. You could even ease your way into it by doing volunteer reading. One of the tenants in our building has a sound studio and he records books and magazines for the blind—regionally published stuff that the National Library Service is less likely to do. He’s always looking for readers willing to give time to the project.”

The nervous clutch of Gemma’s fingers relaxed. “I’d be happy to volunteer, only I doubt I’d be very good.”

“Think about it. There isn’t a deadline.”

They stayed quiet after that, watching Livvie direct her boat in the water. It was a beautiful late afternoon, and Rachel enjoyed just sitting and watching the rippling lake.

“Hey, kiddo!” called Simon Kessler out of the blue.

“Daddy,” Livvie cried, “come see how I make my boat move.”

Rachel’s pulse had jumped when Simon Kessler’s voice intruded into her musings. She watched as he went to the water’s edge, crouching to speak with his daughter—from what she’d read, getting down to eye level was the best way to talk with kids. At the moment, Livvie seemed to be pleading with him for something and Rachel restrained a grin. Livvie would be hard not to spoil with her funny adult manners and earnest eyes.

Gemma looked at her cell phone. “Oh, dear, we’ve been here longer than I thought. I need to go, I have a class tonight at the community center. I’m learning sign language.”