“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.”