He and his brothers had accidentally discovered the nursery when they’d gone in search of the birth certificates, the will and its codicil. Eventually they found all three in their father’s safe. Everything Arnie had told them that morning had been verified—including the fact that if the Brewster sons didn’t want custody of the triplets, Arnie and Judy Garrett would be the guardians. As such, Arnie would be the trustee of their holdings in Brewster Lumber, and he would have fifty percent voting power and complete control of the triplets’ money. He’d also be paid a handsome salary. Reason enough, in Evan’s mind, for the man to try to get custody of the children.
When Evan opened the nursery door, a cacophony of crying greeted him like the noise of an off-key symphony. If he hadn’t been so frazzled trying to figure things out—like the kids’ names, how to get them to stop crying, and how to feed them—he would have taken a moment just to absorb everything. Their little faces, the reality that they were his flesh and blood kin, the fact that they were sisters and a brother were almost incomprehensible.
“Give me a damned bottle already,” Grant growled as Evan made his way into the nursery. Fading rays of late-afternoon sunshine poured into the curtainless windows at the back of the room, which was already bright and cheerful with white walls covered with radiant rainbows. Carefully neutral, the nursery had obviously been designed to keep the kids together without insulting Norm Brewster’s sensibilities about little boys being anywhere near pink.
Remembering his father, Evan held back an involuntary smile, which turned into a surge of pain and regret. How he wished he could have these last two years back again. If nothing else, he would at least try to understand why his father had married so soon after his wife’s death…and why he married someone so young…and why he had more children.
“A bottle, Evan,” Chas implored in exasperation, and Evan brought himself out of his reverie, knowing it was pointless to wish for things that couldn’t happen.
Both Grant and Chas sat in rockers, each holding a fussing baby. The third child sat in the crib, clutching the bars, sobbing as she awaited Evan’s return.
“Okay, one bottle for Taylor,” he said, and handed it to Grant. “One for Annie,” he said, using the shortened version of Antoinette. “And one bottle for Cody.”
Taylor almost grabbed the bottle from Grant’s hands and gulped the contents as if she had been on a deserted island without food for the past two days. Little Annie also drank quickly and easily, nearly directing Evan on how to handle the bottle. But Chas had the devil’s time getting Cody to drink. Chas would move one way, Cody would move the other. The nipple bumped his nose. Chas dripped liquid on Cody’s forehead. And all the while the starving baby screamed.
“This isn’t going to work,” Chas growled after he’d finally made contact with Cody’s mouth.
“Yes, it is,” Evan insisted doggedly.
“You can’t raise kids on good intentions,” Chas said as he set his rocker in motion.
“We have more than good intentions,” Evan said, beginning to rock after he was sure Annie was comfortable.
“We don’t know the first thing about babies.”
“Gentlemen,” Grant interjected. “In case you didn’t notice this morning, we had a volunteer to assist us. Unfortunately, somebody insisted we didn’t need her.”
“I don’t think we do.”
“Well, I think we do,” Grant said simply.
“And I think we do,” Chas agreed, then he bounced off his chair. “Aw, damn. He spit up on me.” Turning his head slowly, Chas speared Evan with a withering look. “I know we need help.”
“Then go ahead and call her,” Evan said, refusing to use Claire’s name because he got a fluttery sensation in the pit of his stomach when he realized he’d get to see her again. Which was insane. She was ten years younger than he was. And potentially up to her ears in Arnie Garrett’s scheme to take the triplets.
He couldn’t possibly be attracted to her.
It wasn’t right.
“Uh-uh.” Chas shook head. “You yelled at her, you call her.”
“I agree with Chas,” Grant said, rocking Taylor, who sucked noisily. “You yelled at her, you call her.”
“You boys forget, I don’t think we need her.”
“And you forget, Evan, that Arnie Garrett has a lot to gain if he becomes guardian for these kids,” Chas reminded his brother. “Having a will or even having the law on our side won’t mean anything if Arnie can prove we’re incompetent. I say we call her.”
Evan looked down and saw that little Annie had finished her bottle and was peacefully sleeping in his arms. Taylor was nearly asleep in Grant’s arms, and even Cody had settled down and was drinking heartily.
They didn’t need help from anyone.
This baby thing was a piece of cake….
As she unlocked the door of her apartment that night, Claire could hear her phone ringing. She juggled two bags of groceries and quickly pushed her way into her kitchen, catching the phone on the fourth ring.
“Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“Hello, this is Evan Brewster.”
Claire felt an incomprehensible torrent of pleasure just hearing his voice. Which was ridiculous. He might be a handsome man, but he was a stubborn man, an angry man and one of her new bosses.
Still, her traitorous, disobedient heart skipped a beat. Claire ignored it in favor of more important concerns like why was Evan calling her? Was it to fire her for slamming a car door in his face earlier? Or was it to ask for help? She prayed he was calling for help.
“What’s up?” she asked, trying to sound casual as she angled the phone between her ear and shoulder.
There was a pause. A long one. Finally, Evan said, “We could really use some guidance with the kids.”
Claire released a silent sigh of relief. Thanks to the triplets, it appeared she was keeping her job. Norm had always said they were an unexpected blessing. She was beginning to understand what he meant. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll tell you how to fix it.”
“We figured out how to use the disposable diapers, but the same system that works for the girls doesn’t seem to work for Cody. All the things Judy gave us are gone. We don’t know if we’re allowed to feed them anything besides what was in the bottles, and we can’t get them to stop crying.”
Claire grimaced. “This isn’t something we can handle over the phone.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“I’ll be right over.”
By the time Claire drove up in front of the Brewster mansion, it was already nine o’clock. Loyalty to Norm had Claire feeling guilty for visiting her parents and doing her grocery shopping rather than staying home waiting for a call just like this one. But, to be honest, Evan and his brothers had seemed so determined that Claire genuinely believed they’d rather sign a pact with the devil than call someone for help.
Swallowing their pride and admitting their shortcomings in favor of the babies’ needs had quickly, easily raised her opinion of them. But the Brewsters had actually elevated their reputations in her eyes by how protective they were of their new brother and sisters. Regardless of the fact that the babies were the product of a marriage they didn’t condone, the Brewster brothers had accepted the triplets without question or qualm.
Even if they didn’t have a clue how to care for them.
She stepped out of her car and pulled out the box of disposable diapers