Composing a Family Page 2

  “Closer is easier in the middle of the night, trust me, so close to the stairs is better.” He laughed and shook his head at the white halls. “Are you opposed to color, Mr. Thorpe?” He hoped not because he wasn’t sure he could actually live for any length of time in an all-white house. It certainly wasn’t going to stay white once the kids were mobile.

  “No. It was like this when I bought the house. I never come here. I live upstairs and in the studio.”

  “Ah.” That explained a lot. “So you won’t object if I ask for some pretty wholesale changes?”

  “No. No, I don’t think so. I want a happy family. Matt made sure I never felt like I was a job, and… I want to share that with my daughters. All… three of them.”

  “Kids are hard work, but no, they aren’t a job at all. I’m not even just thinking for decorating’s sake—this white rug would get destroyed once the girls could get around on their own. Just grubby little hands and feet would do it, but then you add in various foods, crayons, Play-Doh… Destroyed.”

  The poor man shuddered. Oh dear. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

  “There’s all sorts of colors and designs that don’t show the dirt as much. And you can get the rugs treated to be stain resistant, too.” He’d bet mess was something Thorpe did not appreciate, given he had a housecleaner come in three times a week for two guys who were, by everything he could see, quite fastidious. He had a hunch the chaos kids could leave in their wake was going to be quite the shock. On the other hand, maybe it would be just what Thorpe needed—help him loosen up some. Not that he was here to judge the guy or anything, especially on a few moments’ notice, but kids did not come in neat little packages that you tied with a bow. Ever.

  And obviously Thorpe wanted children. He’d gone out of his way to make them.

  “Well said.” Thorpe looked at him, then nodded. “I like you. You remind me of Matt when I was growing up. If you’re interested, we can discuss salary.”

  Well then. Okay. “That’s a huge compliment, thank you. And yes, I’m interested. I know I can make a difference and bring a lot to your family.”

  “I hope so. I’ve never done this before, but I’ve learned to trust my gut and all the background checks have been done. I think you’re him.” Thorpe held out one hand. “Welcome to the family, sir.”

  Ten didn’t bother to mention that they hadn’t actually talked about salary, but he was sure Thorpe would be fair. He obviously spared no expense on things that were important to him, like this place. He took Thorpe’s hand and shook it. “Thank you very much, Mr. Thorpe. I’m glad to be here.”

  “Come on back downstairs and we’ll discuss salary and such. I have a plan written out that I believe is fair.”

  “Perfect. We also need to talk about hours for the first few months.” Because unless Thorpe had extra help he was bringing in Mondays and Tuesdays, Thorpe was probably going to want him around.

  “Of course. Is two days off inadequate?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, honey, it’s not that at all. I’m not sure you’re ready for two days on your own with three newborns. Are you planning on bringing someone in for those two days? Because you don’t have to—I’m more than happy to forego official days off until the babies are older, more settled.” With the Wilsons he’d never truly been ‘off’ unless he was away on vacation. He’d never once turned a deaf ear to a knock on his door, no matter the day or the time. If he lived in and if he cared for the family, he was a part of it, paid nanny or not. He knew there were people who felt and worked differently, but he couldn’t imagine sitting in his room playing Fallout and ignoring the crying babies.

  “I would prefer not to confuse them with a second nanny… That would have been hard for me as a kid. I was thinking Matt and I could try to do it, but if you’re willing to help…”

  “More than willing. And I was going to suggest that if you had someone else coming in to help, it wasn’t necessary. I can catch time off here and there. And as the babies get more settled and sleep longer, it’ll be easier for me to grab an afternoon or evening off as needed. Honestly, I would feel like an asshole if you were trying to deal with three screaming kiddies and I just turned my music up louder so it didn’t disrupt my day off.”

  Thorpe offered him a smile—this one real and warm and welcoming. “See? I knew you were the right one.”

  That made him laugh softly and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m going to be a good fit here with you and Matt.” It felt right. Well, not the house, because the house needed a bunch of work, but the potential was there. “So I guess we just need to take care of the salary and sign the contract?”

  “If you’d like to take it to your lawyer, I’d totally understand. This is a big commitment.”

  “If it’s written in convoluted legalese, maybe I’ll need to. But otherwise, I should be good just reading it myself.”

  “Whatever makes you comfortable. I’m not roping anyone into anything.”

  “I’m not feeling roped into anything. Let me see the contract and I’ll let you know what I think.”

  “Sure. Sure, would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea, soda? We have tons of options.”

  “Water’s good, thanks.” He wasn’t really thirsty, but it would give Thorpe an excuse to leave for a few minutes so he could read the contract without anyone hovering.

  “No problem.” He was handed a sheaf of papers, then Thorpe disappeared.

  He read through the contract—it was totally understandable, which he appreciated—and took a look at the salary. He whistled. Damn, that was generous. Really generous.

  Add that to the time off and the accommodations, he’d be set for the rest of his life.

  He found the signature line and looked around for a pen. He was totally signing on the dotted line. Look at him. He had a new job. A new family. Three beautiful babies not even born yet. It was a promising beginning.

  Chapter Two

  Daniel sat in the kitchen, blinking slowly as he drank his coffee. He liked to be up at five every morning—the world was quiet then, and he got so much done before noon. After noon he found things were more stressful, weirdly groggy. Just not good. As it was, this morning he’d scored a new piece, answered his emails, and read the newspaper all before eight

  Matt wandered in, smiled at him. “Hey, Danny. How goes?”

  “Good morning, Mister. Coffee?”

  “I’ll get it. You need a warm-up?”

  “Please.” He handed over his mug.

  The doorbell rang. That had to be Tenor, right? Who else would be at the door at eight in the morning? Although he’d given Tenor a key…

  “It’s going to be all right, right?” he asked Matt.

  Matt chuckled. “You hired him—I can’t imagine you’d have done that if it wasn’t. I’ll get the door.”

  “Okay. I should go upstairs and get dressed.” He was in SpongeBob jammies.

  “He’s moving in, Danny, I imagine he’s going to see you in your pajamas before long unless you plan to get formally dressed every time you leave your room?”

  “Oh. Right. Was it weird for you? When you started?”

  “Danny, I love you dearly. I need to answer the door.”

  He chuckled as Matt left the kitchen. He was strangely nervous about this.

  A moment later he heard Tenor’s voice as he came toward the kitchen. “...felt weird just letting myself in. I promise I’ll use my key from now on.”

  “Of course. This is always awkward. Coffee? Have you had breakfast?”

  “A hash brown with my coffee on the way here. If you’re offering, I’d love a real breakfast before I tackle bringing everything in. Not that there’s a ton—it all fits in the van I rented. I’ve got a smart car, which is great for getting around town, but it doesn’t exactly have a lot of room for stuff.” Tenor smiled at him, nodde
d slightly, a silver-shot curl bouncing over his forehead.

  “Good morning, Tenor. Matt makes a great omelet, and I can burn toast with the best of them.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Thorpe. My specialty is pancakes. I can make pretty much any shape you can come up with.” Tenor had a great smile that lit up his green eyes.

  “Please, Daniel.” He stood up and held out one hand to shake. “We’re not going to survive two decades formally.”

  “No, we’re not. Daniel, it is.” Tenor grabbed his hand, but instead of shaking, used the clasped hands to pull him in and give him a hug.

  He stiffened for a second, then let himself relax, hug Tenor back. If he was going to trust this man with his babies, he could fucking well hug. Tenor was more solid than his clothing let on, and his hug was firm.

  Then it was over, Tenor stepping back and dropping his hand. “We never talked about meals. Are we going to take turns? Each have a day? A meal? Catch-as-catch-can? What about grocery shopping?”

  Daniel looked at Matt, wide-eyed, and Matt chuckled. “We have a personal chef that comes in and makes easily warmed food and deals with any dinner parties. We make breakfast together usually, and lunch is catch-as-catch-can.”

  “Oh, right. I think you mentioned a personal chef the other day. So he does the grocery shopping? Do you let him know what you want? Is there a system?” Tenor took a seat at the table, looking from him to Matt.

  “Gianni will be in today to meet you. He’ll find out your likes and dislikes. I make an order a couple of times a week for random things.” Matt smiled at Tenor. “And Danny loves to wander around and bring strange things home.”

  “Strange things, huh?” Tenor grinned and stretched. “It’s going to be strange having my meals cooked for me. I used to cook for the kids when I was with the Wilsons. As soon as they were old enough to stand at the counter, they’d ‘help.’ Gotta make sure they know how to take care of themselves when they leave home, you know?”

  Matt shot Daniel a look, and he responded by sticking his tongue out. “Hey! I can make coffee and one hell of a margarita.”

  “And you’ve money to hire a private chef,” Tenor noted. “So I guess you’ve got cooking covered.”

  “Unless you have something special.” Daniel headed to the coffee maker. “Gianni makes enough for four separate meals. I skip supper a lot so there will be plenty.”

  “If there’s food in the fridge and cupboards, I’m happy to make supper.” Tenor smiled and said, “Thank you,” as Matt brought him a glass of orange juice. “What about stuff like soap and laundry detergent—does the housekeeper buy that?”

  “Mostly, yes. Sue has a budget, and she does great. I know that babies need special cleaning stuff, so we’ll get together and make adjustments as needed.”

  “Sounds good. I can make lists for both the cook and the housekeeper of stuff we’re going to need and when we’re going to need it—some of the stuff will be good to have in in advance, some of it will be a regular thing once the babies come. We can talk about what kind of formula you want to use and whatnot at some point. There’s plenty of time for that kind of thing. I’m more concerned with getting the painting and recarpeting done. It’ll be easier to do before the babies show up.” Tenor took a long drink of his orange juice, throat working.

  “You’re redoing the second floor?” Matt asked with a wild gasp. Daniel nodded, and they shared a conspiratorial grin.

  “Finally, right?”

  “God, yes. It’s just so…” Matt shrugged. “Stark.”

  “That was exactly what I thought. And there’s all those breakables. And a carpet that is not going to survive children.” Tenor laughed. “I’ve got a lot of ideas. A lot of things I’d like to have done. What’s going to work best for you—if I write everything down or if I talk to you about it?”

  “We can have a meeting. We’ll just schedule it in.” He needed food, so he pulled out eggs and ham and cheese for Matt.

  “Sounds good. I’d like to get started right away on that, so if we could meet today that would be great.” Tenor finished his drink and stood. “What can I do to help?”

  Matt handed Tenor a loaf of bread. “You’re on toast duty.”

  Daniel bent back to his score, telling himself he could do this, that he wanted this, that this wasn’t scary, for all there were three viable babies, not one.

  Three.

  Three little girls.

  God, he was insane.

  “What was that?” Tenor asked.

  He looked up—he hadn’t said any of that out loud, had he?

  “I thought you made a noise.” Tenor grinned. “We’ll find each other’s rhythms soon enough I bet.”

  “I’m sure. I’m an early bird. I’ll head down for some work in a few.”

  “Are you a ‘don’t disturb me when I’m working’ kind of guy?” Tenor put bread into the toaster.

  “I can answer that.” Matt grinned and cracked eggs. “If the door to the studio or the music room is closed, you don’t knock, barring an emergency. If the doors are cracked, you can knock and interrupt.”

  “Closed is off limits, cracked is open for business, got it.” Tenor started looking through cupboards, grabbing the plates when he found them.

  “I can set the table,” Matt suggested.

  “Nah, I need to discover where everything is anyway.”

  Daniel watched them move around each other like it was easy, and he had to wonder if it was just him who always felt like that there was distance between himself and everyone else.

  Would he be like that with the girls? Would he be removed everywhere there wasn’t music?

  “I’m going to get dressed. I’ll be back.” He took his coffee with him, not listening for an answer, and headed to the third floor. His place. His piano. His guitars. His sound system. He found the Beatles Abbey Road and turned it on before heading into the shower to wash his vague worry and discomfort away.

  By the time he made his way back downstairs, Matt was washing dishes while Tenor dried.

  “Your omelet is in the warming drawer,” Matt told him, giving him a knowing look.

  Tenor simply smiled at him.

  “Thank you.” He felt better in his uniform of black T-shirt and jeans. He felt more in control, more like he could handle all this.

  Matt and Tenor went back to chatting, and he listened idly as he rescued his plate of food. They were sharing nanny war stories. Which would have been amusing, except Matt’s were stories were about him.

  He’d been a good kid—stubborn and focused, yes, and utterly intent on getting what he wanted, but good, nonetheless. He could hear the affection in Matt’s voice as he talked and recognized the same tone in Tenor’s as he talked about his charges.

  “I still talk to Joey, the youngest, every day. He texts a hello if nothing else. And the girls all share their important news with me. I’ve got to admit, I miss having kids around, young or old, so I’m looking forward to the triplets coming.” Tenor continued to search the cupboards as he put the dishes he’d dried away.

  “I am too. I want to spoil them rotten. It was a shock that Danny was having triplets, but he’s handling it.”

  Was he? He supposed he didn’t have a choice. Three viable babies. What? Was he supposed to pick one?

  “I bet multiples are always a shock. And when they first come all three of us are in for a steep learning curve, I bet. But once we get it figured out, we’re going to wonder what we were worrying about and they are going to have us all wrapped around their little fingers.” Tenor stood there for a moment, dish towel in hand as he started out. “They’re probably going to be pretty small, especially if they’re early. I can just imagine holding them.”

  He couldn’t, not yet, but he wasn’t sure how to imagine it. He’d talked to his best friend, Elle, for hours about what was going
on in his head. She promised he’d handle it.

  Tenor put away the last dish and came and sat across the little table from him. “So on a scale of one to ten, how freaked out are you that it’s going to be triplets instead of a single baby?”

  “Thirty. Maybe forty.”

  Tenor chuckled, then sobered and reached out to grasp his hand. “It’s going to be okay, Daniel. Truly. They’re going to fill your life with wonder and happiness. You’re going to make mistakes, but they’re going to survive the mistakes and you’re going to survive the mistakes. I promise.”

  “One hopes so.”. He would figure it out.

  “You’ve got lots of help. Me, Matt. And we both know what we’re doing. Right, Matt?” Tenor gave Matt a grin.

  “We do.” Matt came to him, took his plate. “Go on and work, Danny. You look wild-eyed.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you guys later.” Maybe tomorrow. He didn’t know.

  “Before you go, can we set a time to talk? About the renovations?”

  “Sure. Uh. Before dinner?” He didn’t have supper plans. There was lasagna in the fridge.

  “Sounds good. I should have all my stuff settled by then. See you later.” Tenor gave him a warm smile.

  “Have a good one. Matt is here if you need him.” He gave Matt an apologetic look and headed out, going up to his piano, locking the door behind him.

  Daniel knew himself, knew he was scared, but he didn’t know how to fix it, so he did what he knew.

  He played.

  Chapter Three

  Tenor had been given a credit card and carte blanche to do what he wanted to the second floor of the house. So he’d hired painters and had the floors redone. And he’d bought furniture for the nursery, and for one of the other rooms, turning it into a playroom. Two weeks in and he was happy with the progress they were making. Really, all they needed was the furniture delivery.

  He went downstairs to cook something for dinner. Gianni made great food, but Ten liked cooking, so he’d put in an order for a bunch of stuff and now he was making dinners. Sometimes Daniel ate with him, often not. The guy was burying himself in his work—it was how he coped with being scared, Ten thought.