A Mother's Secret. Gabrielle Meyer

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      “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.”

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