“What are you doing here, boy?” Mrs. Thompson asked Chase.
“Unfortunately,” Chase let out a breath, “I came to Bee Tree Hill to get it ready to sell.”
Mrs. Thompson’s smile fell and she searched his face. “Sell Bee Tree Hill?”
Chase nodded, his eyebrows tilting together. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Thompson. It’s not my choice. The board met just a week ago and made the decision. I was sent to oversee the details.”
Mrs. Thompson nodded slowly. “I understand.” She patted Chase’s cheek and winked. “A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps. We’ll let the good Lord figure this one out for us. Now,” she put her hands on her hips, “where will you stay?”
“I thought I’d be staying here.” He shrugged and glanced at Joy again. “But, under the circumstances, I don’t think it would be best. I can go to a hotel.”
A hotel as far away from Bee Tree Hill as possible.
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Thompson grinned. “You can stay above the carriage house, just like your uncle Morgan was doing. He had the place updated just a couple years ago when Joy and the kids moved in here. I cleaned it myself right after he went into the hospital last month, so the place should work just fine for you.”
Chase searched Joy’s face for her approval. “Would that work?”
If she had her choice, she would say no. But it wasn’t her place to make that decision. He represented the rightful owners. “That’s fine.”
He nodded. “I’ll get my things out of the rental car and be out of your way—”
“No, you won’t.” Mrs. Thompson took his arm as Chase was about to turn away. “You’ll stay here for supper and we’ll have a nice long visit before you head down to the carriage house later.”
Joy stepped forward to protest the invitation, but Chase responded faster than her.
“I don’t want to impose,” he said.
He didn’t want to impose? Joy almost snorted. His very presence in the house was the biggest imposition of her life. What was she going to do? How would she keep the girls’ identity a secret from him? All he would need to do was find out how old they were and he’d probably guess. They were small for their age, so he might think they were younger than three—but if he asked them, they’d tell him the truth.
“Fiddlesticks,” Mrs. Thompson laughed. “I’ll leave you and Joy to chat for a bit while I get the kids their snacks.” With that, she disappeared back into the kitchen, closing the door soundly.
Joy’s mind raced with all the implications of Chase’s arrival, but there was only one thing she could focus on. She would do whatever it would take to keep the house for the kids, and protect her girls from Chase’s family.
He sighed as he faced Joy. “I’m going to see what I can do about this mess. If the board knew you and the kids were here, I don’t think they would have sent me. Somehow, Uncle Morgan’s wishes were not made known to the corporation.”
Hope sprung up in Joy’s heart at his words. “Do you think there’s a way we could still keep the house?”
“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call my father and tell him what happened.”
It wasn’t much, but at least Chase was willing to do what he could. A part of her wanted to believe he would do the right thing, while the other part remembered how much pain he had caused her when he walked away without an explanation. A couple weeks after he left, when she had found out she was pregnant, she had tried to contact him, but he never returned her calls. Eventually, the number was disconnected. After she learned she was expecting twins, the desire to protect her babies from the Asher family had overwhelmed her, so she had kept her secret. If they knew the girls existed, what would stop them from fighting for custody? They had a fortune at their fingertips and she was a single mother who didn’t even own the home she lived in.
Thankfully, Uncle Morgan had let her stay on at Bee Tree Hill while she went to school, and Mrs. Thompson had helped with childcare once they were born. Both Uncle Morgan and Mrs. Thompson had wanted Joy to tell Chase the truth, but she had kept putting it off—and made them promise not to tell.
But now? Now she might be homeless and would have no excuse left to keep the girls’ identity from their father.
“I appreciate whatever you can do to help,” Joy told Chase, forcing herself not to think about the inevitable conversation they must have. For now, they had other things to worry about.
Chapter Two
Chase pulled his phone from his back pocket and stepped out the front door of the house. Bright sunshine filtered through the massive pine trees lining the circle drive. An old tennis court and pool house sat on the sprawling front lawn, and stone pathways crisscrossed over the property, leading down the hill at the back of the mansion to the river beyond. Why had Chase waited so long to return to Bee Tree Hill? He had been in Italy on business when he got word that Uncle Morgan had passed. It had been impossible to get a flight home on such short notice, so he had missed the funeral. He should have made a point to come back to visit before Uncle Morgan died, even if it meant facing his past mistakes.
He walked to a double gliding swing and sat, tapping the phone icon on his screen. He found his father’s number and pressed Call.
It rang several times and then his father answered. “Did you have any trouble getting in?”
“Hi, Dad.” Chase could imagine his father sitting in his office in downtown Seattle, mist outside the large windows, and a view of the Space Needle not too far away.
“What do you need, Chase?”
Taking a deep breath, he rose from the swing, not able to stay still. “We have a problem.”
There was a pause. “What kind of problem?”
Chase didn’t want to tell his father that Joy was the one living in the house. If he knew who it was, he would probably call Chase home and send someone else to deal with the situation.
“Apparently, Uncle Morgan had moved into the carriage house a couple years ago and was letting a woman live in the mansion. She’s a foster mom and has five kids. Mrs. Thompson is still living here, too, helping with the kids.”
“What’s the problem?”
Chase rubbed the tension in the back of his neck as he paced across the manicured lawn. “She told me that Uncle Morgan wanted her to stay here, even after his death.”
“I’m sure she did.” Dad’s sarcastic words were flat and devoid of emotion. “Tell her she has a week to vacate the premises.”
“I can’t do that.”
Dead silence on the other end of the phone wasn’t a good sign.
The boys ran out of the house, shouting and hollering in excitement as they disappeared around the corner of the mansion. Chase moved in that direction, drawn to their enthusiasm.
“The mom has nowhere to go,” Chase continued. “Not to mention Mrs. Thompson. She’s lived here for at least thirty years. Where will she go?”
“That’s not my problem. My grandfather built Bee Tree Hill and when he died, he left the estate to the corporation. We allowed Uncle Morgan to live there, because it was the only home he’d ever known. Now that he’s dead and there are no other Ashers living in Timber Falls, we can finally sell the estate. I won’t let a woman and her kids dictate what we do with the place.”
Uncle Morgan had shared the history of the estate with Chase when he’d stayed with him four years ago. Chase’s great-great-grandfather was a lumber baron in Illinois who had sent each of his sons to a different location in the Western United States to build sawmills in the 1890s. He sent John, Chase’s great-grandfather, to Timber Falls, Minnesota, and that’s when John built Bee Tree Hill. Uncle Morgan was one of John’s sons. He was born and raised in the mansion, and had chosen to stay when the rest of the family moved to Seattle where the company was now headquartered. The property had been part of the family legacy for over a century and it seemed l
ike a shame to sell it now, but it wasn’t up to Chase.
“It’s going to take me at least a month to get the place ready to sell,” Chase said, trying to buy time for Joy and the kids. “I need to have an appraiser look at a hundred years’ worth of antiques and collectibles, not to mention all the work that needs to be done around here. It could take another month or so to find a buyer after that. Why can’t we let her stay until we sell the place? Timber Falls is a small town. It would look bad for the corporation if we kicked out a foster mom, her five kids and an old woman with little warning.”
Dad hated looking bad. It was the reason he had stepped in when he heard Chase wanted to marry Joy. One of the first things he said to Chase was, “What would it look like if you married a woman who grew up in foster care?” He had different plans for Chase, which included marrying the daughter of one of his business partners. But Chase had messed that up, too. Tamara was tired of waiting for Chase to set a wedding date after being engaged for three years, so she left him just before he went to Italy. It wasn’t even two months since their breakup and she had already become engaged to someone else.
“Fine.” Dad’s voice was louder than it needed to be. “She can stay, but only until the end of July. That should give her plenty of time to find a place to live.”
Relief filled Chase. At least Joy had two months to figure out a different plan. He took the stone steps down the hill, toward the river and the sound of the boys playing. “What about Mrs. Thompson?”
“I don’t care about the staff.” Dad was the president and CEO of the Asher Corporation and he’d earned his way to the top by being a hard-nosed businessman. His lack of empathy was famous in the Asher family, but very few people understood it as well as Chase. “She should have planned better,” Dad said. “Let her stay until the end of July, too, but not a day longer. And keep an eye on all of them. Once they know they’re being evicted, they’ll probably start selling off the antiques.”
Chase had nothing but respect for Joy and Mrs. Thompson and he knew they would never stoop so low. “I will.”
“Chase.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t mess this up, too. It’s an easy job. That’s why I sent you to do it.” His father hung up without a goodbye.
Chase lowered his phone and stared at the home screen for a second. His parents had divorced years ago, and his mother hardly spoke to his father anymore. Chase’s aunts, uncles and cousins also kept their distance. The only person who spoke to Malcolm, besides Chase, was his aunt Constance. She and Uncle Morgan had been siblings. She was the last family member from that generation to remain alive and she took it upon herself to remind Malcolm—and the rest of the family—where they came from.
What would it be like to have a father he could lean on for support or a word of wisdom? Aunt Constance said Dad wasn’t always this way. His love of money and power had turned him into a ruthless man. He wanted Chase to take over the business one day, but if Chase followed in his steps, would he become like his dad?
The day he had walked away from Joy, he suspected he had the ability to become ruthless. But how did he stop the trajectory of his life, when he wanted to please his father, despite all the pain and heartache his father had caused?
Chase found the boys near a large basswood tree, a pile of old lumber sitting at the base, and another pile nailed to the tree in a dangerous, haphazard way. The oldest boy had a handful of nails and one of the smaller boys held a hammer.
“What are you boys doing?” Chase asked, his hands in his pockets.
“Building a tree fort,” the smallest one said. “Did you ever build a tree fort?”
Chase hadn’t spent much time playing outside as a kid. In the summer, when most boys were building tree forts, he was inside with a tutor, hired to teach him French and trigonometry. His father wanted him to be the smartest student in his class, but all Chase wanted was freedom to play like a normal kid. “No, but I always wanted one.”
“Do you like our fort?” The oldest pointed up into the tree.
Chase tried to keep his face from showing his real thoughts about the mess in the tree. “That looks a little dangerous.”
“It’s okay, if we’re careful.” The boy started to climb a makeshift ladder they had nailed into one of the trunks of the massive tree. The strip of wood spun and his foot slipped off.
“I think you better not climb up there.” Chase was tall enough to push on one of the boards. It dislodged and fell between the trunks. “Does your mom know you’re building this?”
The oldest boy shrugged.
“Did you tell her?”
“No.”
“Will you help us?” the youngest asked, his blue eyes wide with hope.
Chase had a hundred things he needed to do, but none of it sounded half as fun as building a tree fort. The boys had a couple months left at Bee Tree Hill, why not give them good memories while he could? “We can ask your mom if it’s okay at supper. If she says yes, then we can make our plans for a proper tree fort.”
The boys cheered and dropped all their supplies.
“Let’s go now,” said the oldest.
“We can wait for supper.” Chase smiled at the kids, their enthusiasm contagious. “I don’t even know your names.”
“I’m Ryan,” said the oldest. “I’m eight. Jordan is seven, and Kodi is six.”
“I’m Chase.” He wasn’t sure if Joy wanted them to call him Mr. Asher, but he didn’t want to sound so formal. People called his dad Mr. Asher. “I’ll be living in the carriage house for a while.”
“Come on, Chase.” Kodi took his hand and tugged him toward the barn on the south end of the property. For some reason, his fingers were covered in chocolate. “We’ll show you where we got the wood.”
He let go of Chase’s hand and took off running down the road that led around the base of the hill. Ryan and Jordan trailed after their little brother, glancing over their shoulders to make sure Chase was following.
It was bad enough forcing Joy and Mrs. Thompson out of their home, but even worse evicting kids. There had to be a way to keep them all at Bee Tree Hill.
He owed it to Joy to at least try.
* * *
The aroma of Mrs. Thompson’s famous lasagna and garlic bread wafted through the house as Joy picked up the coloring books and crayons the girls had left on the dining room table. She had sent them off to the kitchen to wash up for dinner when she had caught sight of Chase walking toward the house with the boys.
Several things had distracted him when he first arrived, and he probably hadn’t had time to think about Kinsley and Harper’s age, or the fact that they had his nose and hair. She’d come to accept that it would be impossible to keep them away from Chase forever. If he suspected he was their father and asked, she wouldn’t lie, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell him, either.
“Mama?” Kodi ran into the house, his big brothers close on his heels. He was the youngest of the boys, but he usually led the way. “Can we build a tree fort with Chase?”
Chase followed the boys into the dining room, his hair windblown and his eyes sparkling.
Joy’s breath caught at the sight of him and it took her a moment to compose her thoughts. Why did he have to be so good-looking?
“I’m sure Mr. Asher has enough to keep busy.” Joy set the coloring books and crayons in a built-in hutch. The dining room, just like the rest of the house, still retained its historic flavor. Thick trim, painted a creamy white, dominated the room, while a chandelier hung over the long walnut table. She kept a tablecloth on it at all times to protect it from the inevitable scratches and dents the kids would inflict on the expensive wood. All the rooms in the house were full of Asher family heirlooms, and it was a full-time job keeping them safe from the kids.
“They can call me Chase,” he said, but then added quickly, “if that’s okay with
you.”
It wasn’t okay with her. She’d rather he keep a professional distance from the kids. But one look at their expectant faces and she knew it was already too late.
“Can we build the fort?” Ryan asked, his freckles already becoming more prominent from the sunshine and being outside during the warmer weather. “Chase said he’d help, but we had to ask you first.”
Joy searched Chase’s face. He almost looked as excited and eager as the boys. “Would you like to build them a tree fort?”
He nodded, his mouth tilting up in a smile. “I would.”
“It’ll be better than the one we built,” Ryan said with assurance.
How could she say no to this request? The boys didn’t have many male role models in their life—and though she would have chosen someone other than Chase, it seemed that God had brought him here.
Hopefully not for long.
“Did you speak to your father?” she asked Chase.
“Mama!” the three boys called out impatiently.
“Can we build a fort?” Jordan asked.
It didn’t pay to fight them. She put her hands on Jordan’s cheeks and smiled down into his adorable little face. “You can build your tree fort, but only when Mr. Asher has time. Don’t bug him if he’s busy.” She knew how persistent these children could be. They would drive him crazy if she didn’t stop them.
“Yes!” Ryan pumped his fist in the air and the other two tried to mimic him.
“Now go wash up for supper.” She ruffled Kodi’s hair as he ran past.
The door between the butler’s pantry and the dining room swung on its hinge after the boys rushed through. It squeaked mercilessly.
Chase walked over to the door and opened and closed it a few times. “I’d be happy to fix this for you.”
A Mother's Secret Page 2
