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Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(10)

Author:Nora Roberts

Soft, sweet—that’s what a parent wanted for their baby.

The website visual followed that tone, adding in the easy care, the lovingly handcrafted accessories, photos not just of the products but of babies wearing the products, or parents using the blankets, the burp cloths.

Various social media posts would increase those visuals, consistently. And a fresh and, again, consistent, look for the sisters’ blog.

And now that they’d moved their little company out of their homes and into an actual workshop, she’d carried that design into the physical space.

A few finishing touches, and they’d be off and running.

She’d so much rather sit down and work on those finishing touches than air her personal business with her bosses.

But it had to be done.

She started out. She heard voices now, artists coming into the Nesting Area, or hitting the break room for coffee before they settled in.

She walked up the metal stairs to the second floor. It held the directors’ offices—art, design, creative—and their assistants’ work areas, the presentation room where designers pitched their concepts and completed work to the directors, the owners’ offices, a second, snazzier break room.

Since Laine Cohen had hired her, she went there first, knocked.

“Come!”

When she opened the door, she saw Laine, hair a sharp, angled wedge of mahogany, bright blue readers dangling from the silver chain around her neck, at her desk. Her partner sat on the corner of her L-shaped workstation.

The window behind her offered a view of the Boston Common on a perfect summer day. Posters of designs created in-house lined her walls. She rotated them every few months.

Sonya currently had one displayed. So did Brandon.

And she saw, when Laine and Matt Berry looked at her, they already knew.

Matt, slim in chinos and a pink polo, slid off the desk. As usual, he had his glossy blond hair pulled back in a tail. A gold hoop winked in his left ear.

“I wonder if I could have a couple of minutes,” Sonya began.

“Of course, of course.” Matt gestured her in. “Close the door, have a seat. How are you, Sonya?”

“I’m all right, thanks. I—”

“Laine and I were just talking about you taking a few days off.”

So Brandon had beaten her to it, she thought. And in his way.

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need time off. I hope to finalize the Baby Mine account today, and I hope to present some initial designs on the Kettering account by the end of the day.”

The quiet sympathy in Matt’s eyes, the speculation in Laine’s had Sonya tossing the plan out the window.

“I take it you heard we’ve called off the wedding.”

“Brandon called me last night.” All sympathy and comfort, Matt rubbed her arm. “He’s upset, of course, but he feels—I agree—you just need a little space, a little time. Planning a wedding is beyond stressful. I can still remember snapping and snarling at Wayne when we were planning ours.”

“He contacted you, our boss, on a Sunday night, to tell you I was stressed over wedding planning?”

“We’re not just bosses. We’re family here. We hope everyone here knows our door is always open if there’s a problem. Isn’t that right, Laine?”

“Of course. And yes, weddings are stressful to plan. I helped plan my daughter’s last year, so I know. I’ve also seen you handle all manner of stress, Sonya. So I was surprised when Matt told me you’d had a kind of crisis over the wedding details.”

“I had a crisis?” Your mistake, Brandon, she thought, trying to draw me as hysterical. On to Plan B, designed on the spot. “I guess you could call it that.”

“And nothing to be ashamed of,” Matt assured her. “You take a break, pamper yourself a little. I’m sure you and Brandon will work this all out.”

“That’s not going to happen. I had this crisis, since we’re calling it that, when I got home unexpectedly early Saturday afternoon and found Brandon in bed with my cousin. Imagine my surprise. And imagine my additional surprise when I learned that wasn’t the first time.

“So there’s not going to be a wedding. I don’t need or want time off. I came in this morning with no intention of telling you the embarrassing details of my decision, but to let you know I’d changed my mind regarding the wedding. And to ask if, because the situation would be awkward for a time, Brandon and I aren’t assigned to the same project.”

“I— Are you sure about the … the circumstances?”

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