Family by Design
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Callie Endicott
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17,5K
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18
Prologue
RACHEL CLARION STARED at the check she held... It was intended to compensate for the loss of a successful modeling career, but all she wanted to do was tear it into a thousand pieces.
Weeks ago, her agent, Kevin McClaskey, had made inquiries to see if anyone was interested in hiring her. The answer was no. He’d been given excuses about her being out of the public eye for too long, and that regardless, people might think more about the accident than the product being sold.
Rachel thought there was more to it.
She glanced at the check she held, then touched the faint marks on her jaw; she’d come to terms with what had happened, but the insurance company had boiled it down to dollars and cents. The money was supposed to pay for negligence, pain and lost earnings. But what could compensate for a year and a half of surgeries, self-doubt and the endless gossip and speculation of the paparazzi and mainstream press?
The slip of paper drifted to the floor.
All right, she was still trying to come to terms with what had happened. It shouldn’t be this difficult—her modeling career hadn’t been a childhood dream. She’d become a model by chance when she was fourteen. Her parents were down-to-earth people who ran a popular catering company. One day she’d been helping them cater a spring clothing photo shoot in Seattle, Washington, and the next day she was in front of the camera because one of the models had come down with the flu.
The doorbell rang and Rachel hurried to answer it, finding her close friend Nicole George had arrived early for the evening gathering.
“Hey, Nicole.”
Nicole looked at her closely. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, really.” Rachel closed the door and retrieved the check from the floor. Managed right, the settlement would ensure she’d stay financially independent. “I got the money today. It’s making me think about stuff.”
She put the check away and settled on the couch with Nicole at the other end. Soon they’d be joined by Logan Kensington and Adam Wilding. Adam and Nicole were two of the hottest supermodels in the business, and Logan was a photographer whose services were always in demand. Rachel couldn’t help wondering if it would make a difference to their friendship now that she was no longer modeling herself.
She chided herself for even thinking the question. Her friends weren’t shallow, even if her ex-husband might be. Rachel wasn’t sure about Hayden any longer. It felt as if he’d left because of her scars, yet he’d stuck around for several months after the accident. Ultimately the endless round of doctors and surgeries and meetings with lawyers had chipped away at their marriage until they’d both questioned what was left.
It was also possible that since Hayden was regarded as one of the best-looking men in the business, he couldn’t handle being married to a woman who was now pitied and facing the end of her career. Still, they’d had a myriad of problems, so her appearance could only be part of why he’d left.
“Earth to Rachel,” Nicole intoned.
“Sorry.”
Nicole’s eyes were sympathetic. “I can only imagine what that check represents to you. Some people would be dancing in triumph, but life isn’t just about money.”
“Yeah. It’s like a final judgment saying my career is over, my marriage is finished and money is the only thing left.” Rachel made a face. “Sorry, I hate it when I whine.”
“Whine all you like. You deserve it.”
“But feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t help.”
“True,” Nicole acknowledged, “it just keeps you stuck in the same place.”
“And that isn’t good enough, so I’ll have to build a new life and look forward to the process.”
“You can do it. You’re one of the smartest and bravest people I’ve ever known.”
Rachel grinned. “You’re just saying that because I’m feeding you dinner.”
“You got me. I’m a sucker for your chicken lo mein.”
The doorbell rang again and Rachel let Adam and Logan into the apartment.
“Hi, guys,” Nicole greeted them. They fetched bottles of mineral water from the fridge and relaxed in the comfortable chairs across from the couch.
Furniture was another thing Rachel and Hayden had disagreed about; he’d wanted everything modern and fashionable, while she’d preferred comfort. Compromise wasn’t in his lexicon. She’d let him have every piece of furniture in the divorce, and then purchased what she’d wanted in the first place.
“Before I finish making dinner, I have to decide what to do with my life,” Rachel said. “Any ideas?”
“Wow, a new life plan in the next twenty minutes,” Adam marveled. “Is this the latest Olympic event?”
Rachel laughed, feeling more normal. The four of them had known each other for years and no one could have been more faithful visiting her at the hospital and then at home, phoning and using Skype when they were out of town on jobs. Maybe friendship was better than romance. It certainly seemed more reliable.
“I thought you had two operations to go before making a decision,” Logan said.
“The benefits would be marginal at best, so I told the surgeon that enough is enough. Besides, Kevin made inquiries and nobody wants to hire me. They say it’s been too long and there was too much press about the accident—that my injuries are all consumers will think about. If they even remember me.”
Adam scowled. “Advertisers are remarkably shortsighted. But I’m glad you’ve decided not to have more surgery. We’ve hated seeing how much it drags you down.”
Rachel squared her shoulders. “Well, now I can rebuild myself and move on.”
“What about buying into your parents’ business in the Seattle area? You’re a great cook.”
She shook her head. “That isn’t the answer. For one, my little sister hopes to eventually take over Clarion Catering, and my being there would be a complication. Not to mention it would be like going back to childhood.”
Nicole shuddered. “What an awful thought.”
Both Logan and Adam groaned in a chorus of agreement.
Ironically, of the four of them, Rachel had experienced the most normal life growing up, but she still didn’t want to go backward. Anyhow, each time her parents visited, they wanted to coddle and protect her...and deny the reality of what a huge, ancient lighting boom could do to the human body if it wasn’t properly secured. She loved them, but she needed to reclaim her life. It was what her trauma counselor kept saying, but that didn’t make it less true.
Logan leaned forward. “Is there anything you’re especially interested in doing?”
“Not really. I’ve enjoyed the travel connected to modeling, but I can’t see becoming a flight attendant.”
“How about doing makeup for photo shoots?” he suggested. “You’ve helped out several times when the professional artist couldn’t get the look I wanted. And there was that one shoot where the entire makeup staff got food poisoning from sushi and you did it for everybody.”
Makeup artist was an interesting idea. She had the insurance payout, so she didn’t have to worry if the work wasn’t regular. And she’d be in the same field as her friends.
“Would it be hard to work in a setting similar to where the accident happened?” Nicole asked, looking concerned.
“Maybe, but I’m getting counseling for post-traumatic stress and I doubt that running away is the answer.”
Rachel almost felt guilty for talking about PTSD. After all, she’d been posing for a picture when something heavy fell on her, not saving lives like the two firefighters she’d met in the hospital. They ran into burning buildings when everyone else was running out of them. But when she’d tried dismissing her own experience, they’d said to stop, that trauma was trauma, no matter what had caused it.
Rachel struggled to smile. Right now she needed to concentrate on getting through each day, one step at a time.
“What do you know?” she announced in a determinedly cheerful voice. “You’ve managed to help me plan a new life in less than ten minutes. I’m impressed.”
