Read the book: «The Baby Bequest»

Chapter One

Claire Wilson opened the door of Attorney Arnie Garrett’s office and a little bell rang, announcing her arrival.

“Good afternoon, Claire,” Jennifer Raymond, Arnie’s secretary, called from around a corner. “I know that’s you,” she said, “because everyone else is already gathered in the conference room. Mr. Garrett’s not back from the funeral yet. So you can either wait in the reception area or go down the hall and join the other interested parties.”

Claire licked her dry lips. She knew who the other “interested parties” for the reading of Norm Brewster’s will were. Norm’s sons—Evan, Chas and Grant. In this little corner of the world they weren’t merely part of the family that founded Brewster County, Pennsylvania, they were notorious. After years of spending the family fortune like water, wreaking havoc on the virtue of the local girls and using their fists to prove most of their points, all three had walked away from Brewster County two years ago, vowing never to return…. Rumor had it they’d gone on a two-year binge of sin and corruption.

“You wouldn’t be standing there making rash judgments, now, would you?”

Claire jumped at the sound of Jennifer’s voice and spun around.

“I’m not making any sort of judgments at all,” Claire lied.

“Oh, baloney,” Arnie’s secretary said with a wave of her slender hand. She was a tall woman, at least five-ten. Her gray hair was pulled into a loose knot at her nape and her blue eyes sparkled with the joy of the moment. “Everybody’s making judgments and speculations,” she whispered as she cautiously approached Claire. “It’s been a mystery to everyone why Norm chose to marry a woman half his age only two months after his first wife’s death. When they ran, those boys weren’t doing anything but being loyal to their mother.”

Having seen how Norm Brewster had pined for his sons Claire had her own opinion about that, but she didn’t care to share it with Brewster County’s official gossip hotline. She edged her way around Jennifer to the doorway. “Uh, you said everybody was in the conference room, right? I think I will join them.”

Walking down the dimly lit corridor, she heard the low rumblings of male voices only a few feet away from her and her stomach did a somersault. Because these men were much older than she was, she knew about them by reputation only, but the rumors she’d heard were enough to scare anyone witless. And, too, these men had hurt Norm, a man she’d grown to care for and admire.

Still, she drew in a deep breath and headed for her first meeting with the Brewster brothers. She was going to have to face them sooner or later, because if what she suspected was true, the reading of the will would announce that these three were her new bosses.

“Gentlemen,” she said as she breezed in and walked to a chair at the end of the table.

Instantly, all three men stopped talking.

“I’m Claire Wilson,” she continued, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. Her heart constricted painfully, then began to pound in her chest. The Brewster boys were big, much bigger than she’d expected. And handsome. Dressed in dark suits, white shirts and ties, they looked respectable and sophisticated, but there was still something rough and dangerous about them. Any female over the age of fifteen could easily understand why women dropped at the feet of these men.

One had eyes so dark they were nearly black, and dark hair. The other two were almost his opposite with sandy brown hair and pale-colored eyes. Both of them gave her a suspicious, somewhat hostile scrutiny because she’d invaded their privacy.

Claire’s breath shivered in her chest. “I am…was…your father’s assistant at Brewster Lumber,” she explained.

Finally, after what seemed a century of silence, one of the lighter-haired men spoke. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Wilson.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, then swallowed hard. She couldn’t tell if she was afraid of these men or attracted to them, or both. All she really knew was they had presence. Rumors and stories she’d heard as a teenager took on new meaning.

“I’m Evan,” he said, walking toward her with his hand extended.

Claire swallowed again. “I’m sorry about your loss,” she said as she allowed him to wrap her small hand in his much larger one. Up close he was even bigger than he seemed from across the room. And much more imposing. Not only could she smell the fresh, spicy scent of his aftershave, but she could see that his eyes were green. Cool, misty green.

Before Evan Brewster had a chance to reply, Arnie Garrett bounded into the room. “I see you’re meeting everyone, Claire,” he said as he strode to the head of the table, his arms piled high with file folders stuffed to capacity. His short gray hair was tousled in spite of the fact that there was no breeze on this bright May day, and his suit was oddly wrinkled.

“You’re shaking Evan’s hand,” Arnie continued. “The dark-haired gentleman is Grant. And the last, here, is Chas.” He paused and smiled at the three men, all of whom suddenly looked sheepish and docile. “Everybody take a seat anywhere around the table,” he directed as he began rummaging through the top file. “Claire, you remember witnessing Mr. Brewster’s will last summer?”

“Yes,” she said, though she didn’t believe her witnessing Norm’s signature was the reason she’d been summoned. Norm had asked for the favor on her second day of employment, and she hadn’t seen the specifics of the document.

“Well, there’s been a codicil,” Arnie said as he carried the instrument to Claire and motioned for her to identify her signature.

She nodded.

“The codicil doesn’t change anything, only adds to it,” he explained as he returned to his chair. “When the will is officially probated, you, Jennifer and I will need to go to the Register of Wills office and sign papers. For now, though, this is nothing more than an informal reading.”

Claire relaxed, but as she did she glanced over and saw Evan studying her, his elbow resting on the arm of his chair and his cheek braced between his index finger and thumb. He was a beautiful man, a perfect specimen. His thick sandy-brown hair fell in a soft wave to his forehead and had enough body that it stayed where he combed it. His skin had a very natural, healthy tone that emphasized his opaque eyes. His nose was the right size and shape for his face, and his lips were full, his mouth generous. She’d never, ever seen anybody who was as flawless as he was—at least not in person.

“So, we’ll get right to the will, because it’s relatively short and uncomplicated. Then I’ll move into the additions of the codicil.”

Arnie’s sudden announcement caused Claire to realize she was staring at Evan Brewster, and she quickly looked away. She thought that he should have been embarrassed for staring at her, as well, but in a swift peek she saw he obviously wasn’t. He was curious about her and he didn’t feel the need to hide it.

Well, let him be curious. Lord knew, everybody was curious enough about him. If her guess was correct, the Brewster boys now owned Brewster Lumber. Even if they decided to sell it, they’d have to spend a few weeks around town, and Claire knew Evan Brewster would get more than his fair share of stares.

“Claire?”

Claire started as if in a trance. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to Arnie. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I said that the first item in the codicil is a bequest from Mr. Brewster to you of ten thousand dollars.”

Claire pressed her hand to her throat. “Oh.”

“You are the only beneficiary outside of the family,” Arnie noted, smiling fondly at her.

“Which explains her presence here,” Evan said, sounding irritated.

“Evan,” Arnie cautioned. “I also invited Claire to be here this morning so that I could introduce her to all of you because she was your father’s assistant. If the three of you are going to take over Brewster Lumber, she’s the person you need most in the world right now. You know your father didn’t employ any executives. He didn’t have a board of directors. He did everything himself, hoping for the day one or all of you would return home. Because he wanted to be able to give each of you a position at the mill, he couldn’t give those jobs to other people. So, with Claire’s help, he ran the business himself.”

Claire watched quietly as all three brothers exhibited a range of complex emotions. Grant hung his head guiltily. Chas drew in a long breath. Evan gazed out the window. If the expression on his face was any gauge, it appeared he wished he could live the last two years over again.

If she didn’t know how much Norm had suffered from his sons’ rejection, Claire might have actually felt sorry for them. But she did know how lonely and abandoned he’d felt. And these men were the cause of that pain.

“Because I’m familiar with all the circumstances of this situation, I recognize this isn’t easy for you,” Arnie continued delicately. “But I also know that your father would want nothing more than to see the three of you at home again, taking your place at Brewster Lumber. I’m proud of all of you for coming home.”

Evan cleared his throat. “It’s a little late.”

Arnie shook his head. “Not really. All your father ever wanted was for Brewster Lumber to continue on. You could still fulfill his wishes.”

Though Claire understood that coddling these three was probably Arnie’s way of cajoling them into staying in town, she still agreed with Evan. It was a little late—about two years too late. As far as she was concerned, the fact that they’d been “kind” enough to come home to take possession of the highly successful family business didn’t do much in the way of exonerating them.

Arnie set the will on the table. “The rest of the codicil revolves around one specific thing. Before I move on, I’d like to know if you have any questions about what I’ve already read.”

“I don’t think there is anything to explain. Even if I wasn’t a lawyer, I’d know that because our stepmother died in the accident with our father, we inherit the lumber mill,” Chas said softly.

“That’s right,” Arnie agreed. “Actually, the codicil stipulates that you inherit all your family’s holdings, including the house, equally with your siblings.”

“Brothers,” Chas corrected absently, nervously tapping a pencil he’d pulled from his jacket pocket. Though he had similar coloring to Evan, the two really didn’t look alike. Chas had a more boyish face. Evan, with his cool, direct stare and very angular cheekbones, looked older, wiser…sexier.

“No, Chas,” Arnie said haltingly. “I didn’t make a mistake. And neither did your father when this addition was written. He said siblings because he meant siblings.”

“But we only have brothers,” Evan quietly observed, piercing Arnie with his uncompromising gaze.

“Actually, you don’t,” Arnie said. He rose from his seat, pressed a button on the telephone and instructed Jennifer to come into the office.

Claire got a sick feeling in her stomach. It had never occurred to her that because Norm’s sons hadn’t spoken to him in two years, they didn’t know their father had triplets!

Grinning from ear to ear, Jennifer entered carrying two adorable little girls, one on the crook of each arm. Both were around six months old and were dressed in pink ruffled dresses with white tights and black Mary Janes.

“My God, twins!” Grant gasped.

“No. Triplets!” Jennifer all but sang, stepping out of the way and allowing everyone to see Arnie’s wife, Judy, as she walked into the room carrying a little boy. Wearing a miniature suit and tie, he was every bit as beautiful as his two sisters. But not only were the three children darling, they were also picture-perfect matches for the Brewster brothers. One of the girls had black hair and dark eyes. The second girl and the boy had light brown hair and pale green eyes.

For the next thirty seconds, Evan felt as if all the air had been drained from the room as he struggled to comprehend that he had not only another brother—a baby brother—but two sisters, as well.

Sisters!

He pressed his hands to his face, then rubbed them down his cheeks. What had his father done?

“Angela wasn’t pregnant when Dad married her, was she?” Grant asked angrily.

Because that was an excellent question, Evan came to attention.

“No, the kids are only six months old.”

“And they’re that big?” Chas gasped.

“They’re actually average size,” Jennifer happily said as she brought the girls farther into the room. Walking around the table, she eased the dark-haired baby onto Grant’s lap and then handed the other girl to Evan. Judy gave the boy to Chas.

Awestruck, confused, numb, Evan stared at the little girl, who took one look at him and let out a screaming wail. Purely on instinct, he grabbed her under the arms and held her away from him. “I swear to God, I didn’t hurt her.”

“She’s only frightened,” Judy soothed as she set the baby girl on Evan’s lap again. “She needs to get to know you. Give her a few minutes to get familiar with you and she won’t cry anymore.”

As the words came out of Judy’s mouth, the real meaning of what she was saying hit Evan, and he glanced at Chas, whose wide-eyed stare told him he’d also figured everything out, then at Grant, who also had a glazed expression in his brown eyes.

Evan looked down at his little sister. A child. A baby. Babies. “These kids are our responsibility now, aren’t they?”

Arnie nodded once. “I’m afraid so.”

“My God, he peed on me!” Chas cried, and bounced from his seat, holding the baby away from him as if that could protect his already damp trousers. At his sudden movement, though, all three babies started to cry and scream.

“Unfortunately, I’m not very good with these disposable diapers yet,” Judy confessed, shouting to be heard over the noise. “My babies wore cloth diapers and plastic pants. I’m afraid this was the best I could do.”

“Since the accident, my wife and I have been caring for the children,” Arnie explained. “But I researched the law and the bottom line is that the triplets belong to you.”

Though Grant and Chas looked completely confused and out of their element, Evan felt wave upon wave of an emotion he couldn’t begin to identify. All his life he’d wanted children. Doctor after doctor told him he couldn’t have children. Now, when he’d all but given up hope, his father had given him the one thing he couldn’t give himself. A family. Babies. And not just one or two…three. Three glorious children.

His throat closed and he swallowed convulsively. “What do you mean you researched the law?” he asked quietly, finally realizing what Arnie had said didn’t fit in with the rest of the conversation.

“Let’s face it, Evan,” Arnie said. “You’re three single men. I don’t think you’re the best choice for guardians. I wanted to be sure that legally you were the people who were supposed to be the guardians, so I did some checking. And the law says these children are yours, unless you want to—”

“Unless we want to what?” Chas said with cool tones.

“Sign over custody,” Arnie said casually. “I have papers right here. All you have to do is sign them and Judy and I will continue to take care of the kids.”

Evan knew he should have let Chas handle this, since he was a lawyer, but something inside him snapped. These were his kids, damn it! They were Brewsters and they would be raised by Brewsters.

Even as his baby sister screamed and squirmed in his arms—or maybe because she screamed and squirmed in his arms—Evan got the distinct impression he and his brothers had been set up by his father’s best friend and attorney. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that Arnie asked them to sign over custody two minutes after he told them of the children’s existence and while all three babies screamed bloody murder.

“Why would you think we would want to hand over custody?” he asked, hanging on to his temper only by the merest of threads.

“Well, look at you,” Arnie scoffed, but kindly. “The three of you aren’t prepared to be parents, least of all to triplets.”

“Is that why no one bothered to mention the children when we arrived this morning?” Chas asked angrily.

“Well, I…The shock of your father’s death was enough,” Arnie said logically. “I couldn’t spring it on you that you also had two sisters and a brother.”

“Who also inherit half the lumber mill,” Grant surmised, rising. “I guess that never crossed your mind when you decided you wanted custody.”

Evan was glad his brothers could think so clearly, so rationally, but it was also apparent that their tempers were reaching the point where there would be no turning back. With three screaming babies and two furious, conclusion-jumping brothers on his hands, Evan knew it was time to leave before somebody said something he might regret. His own notions about Arnie’s motives were making him every bit as angry as his brothers appeared to be. But more than that, the subtle insinuation that maybe their father wouldn’t want them to have the kids was pushing him over the edge. He couldn’t believe that. He refused to believe that. Because his father was the only person aside from doctors who knew Evan couldn’t have children, Evan wouldn’t believe his father would be so cruel as to deny him the privilege of raising these three.

In fact, that was his saving grace. That was the minute when he forgave his father, and in his heart knew he’d try to understand. Because his father had stipulated in his will that the brothers were to be guardians, Evan knew he had not only forgiven his sons, he was allowing the family to move on.

Lord only knew what Arnie Garrett was trying to pull.

Evan rose. “Are there diapers or bottles or something that we should have?”

“I have a diaper bag in the office,” Judy said uncertainly.

“Good, please get it. Chas, Grant, let’s go.”

“Now, wait,” Arnie said, trying to stop them.

Already at the door, Evan spun around. “No, you wait,” he angrily countered. “I don’t give a damn what you think about me or my brothers, but you had no right to second-guess my father’s wishes for these children. Whether you like it or not, Mr. Garrett, Brewsters take care of their own. And if my father were alive, that’s exactly what he’d tell you. He’d stand by his will.”

Judy returned and handed the huge diaper bag to Evan. He easily hoisted the strap of the satchel over one shoulder.

“Evan, wait,” Arnie called, but Evan kept walking. He managed to snuggle his baby sister closer to his chest, and though that didn’t entirely calm her, at least it took her crying to a low wail. He strode down the hall, then through the front office and the door with the tinkling bell and out into the sunshine, his brothers behind him.

“Evan, wait!”

This time the call came from Claire, the assistant. And that was another thing. Ten thousand dollars to a woman who was an assistant for a year? One short year? Evan didn’t begrudge his father the right to do what he wanted to do with his money, but given that Arnie had tried to sneak the kids away from him everything in that codicil became suspicious.

“Wait!”

This call was louder and stronger and gave Evan the impression she planned on following him forever if she needed to. Rather than take her to the door of the Brewster mansion, he stopped.

“What?” he demanded angrily.

She drew a long breath because she’d been running, and Evan tried not to notice the flush on her cheeks or the way her silky black hair accented her blue eyes.

“Car seats,” she managed to say when she’d finally gotten enough air.

He stared at her. “Car seats?”

“In Pennsylvania it’s the law that all kids under the age of four have to be in a car seat.”

Evan looked at Chas.

“She’s right,” Chas said, juggling the little boy he held in an effort to get him to stop crying.

Evan hesitated a few seconds. “I’m only going three miles up the road,” he said, and turned away from Claire. “I will drive safely and I will drive slowly. Once we get the kids settled, I’ll send Grant out for car seats.”

He felt a tug on his coat sleeve and, annoyed, stopped again. “What?”

“This is ridiculous,” she said softly, infuriatingly calm. “All we have to do is take these kids back to Arnie’s office and get their car seats from Judy’s car.”

Evan didn’t care that what she said made sense. What he felt was fresh and raw. He knew the bottom line for Arnie was probably money, and the thought that someone would use children for profit made Evan sick. Going back for those car seats was a capitulation he knew he couldn’t make. Particularly since he didn’t have any idea what Claire’s involvement was in this situation. She might be innocently drawing him back for car seats, or she might be taking them back to give Arnie another shot at getting the guardianship release signed.

He gave her a cool look. “We’ll stop at the discount store on the outskirts of town. That means we’ll be driving about a mile without car seats, but we’ll get the car seats,” he said quietly, protectively clutching his sister. He didn’t even care when she wiped her wet nose on his lapel. “If you don’t like that, call the police.”

With that he turned away again and started down Market Street toward his sport utility vehicle, which was parked by the curb. Because both Grant and Chas had ridden with him, the three men and their babies stopped when they reached Evan’s truck. He unlocked the doors.

“For pete’s sake, at least let me come to the house and help you get organized,” Claire said reasonably as Evan fumbled with his keys.

“No.”

“What are you going to do with three kids?” she asked.

Evan whirled around to face her. “How old are you?”

Her chin lifted. “Twenty-three.”

“I’m thirty-three. I have ten more years of experience than you. I think that makes me ten years more qualified to take care of kids than you.”

He got into the car and handed his sister to Grant, who arranged both kids securely on his lap. When Evan’s arms were free, Claire caught his jacket sleeve to get his attention again.

“There are seven children in my family. The youngest is six. I’d say I have oodles more experience caring for kids than you.”

Evan didn’t have to worry about closing his door because Claire slammed it in his face. Angry, yet undeniably exhilarated, he pulled his car into the street.

He’d never felt like this before. Stupid and happy. Stupid because he should have accepted Claire’s help since he knew he and his brothers really couldn’t take care of three babies. Happy because he had three kids, and maybe even a chance to make amends to his father.

As long as Attorney Arnie Garrett didn’t have a legal maneuver up his sleeve to wrestle custody away….