“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