could hardly believe it.
“Go into the kitchen,” Joy said to her daughters, disentangling Harper’s hold on her leg. “Mrs. Thompson should have the afternoon snacks ready.”
Chase used the distraction to rise and take a steadying breath.
He never expected to see Joy again—let alone here, in the very house where he’d fallen in love with her and then left her without an explanation. He thought she’d be long gone.
The girls ran off and Joy came down the steps. Distrust was written all over her face, and rightfully so. She had no reason to trust him again.
Her blond hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she wore a wrinkled T-shirt, but she was more attractive than he remembered. He had measured every woman he met in the past four years up against Joy’s beauty—and found all of them lacking.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“What am I doing here? I was just about to ask you the same question.”
She didn’t come close, but kept a considerable distance between them. “I live here.”
“Since when?”
There was a quiet pause and then she said, “I never left.”
“I thought you were just working here that summer. Uncle Morgan let you stay?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her eyebrows came together. “He wanted to help me.”
Four years ago, Joy was going to a local college to be a school social worker. Uncle Morgan had hired her for the summer to do light cleaning to earn money for tuition. Chase had always assumed she graduated and went on to get a different job, maybe get married and start a family. By the looks of it, at least that part was true.
“Why did he want to help?” Chase wished he wasn’t so confused right now. His father had told him the house was empty. Why hadn’t someone informed him that Joy was still there?
She tugged at the hem of her T-shirt self-consciously. “Two years ago, I became a foster mom to three brothers. Since I was still living here helping, Uncle Morgan asked if I would like to live in the main house while he moved into the carriage house. He said the mansion was meant for a growing family to enjoy.” She lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “I never asked him to move into the carriage house. He insisted.”
Just like Uncle Morgan to give his home to a family—Joy’s family.
Chase pointed toward the entrance, incredulity tinting his words. “Are the twins yours?” It was hard to think of Joy falling in love with someone else and starting a family.
Joy nodded, her dark brown gaze lowering to her hands. “They are.”
A quiet pause punctuated their awkward conversation, but Chase finally managed to say, “They’re beautiful.”
She lifted her eyes again and studied him. “Thank you.”
“Mama!” a boy called from the front of the house. “We’re home!”
“School’s all done for the summer!” cried another.
“Excuse me,” Joy said as she walked away from Chase. “The boys are home.”
He followed Joy out of the music room and back into the foyer. The boys were dropping backpacks, tennis shoes, folders and sports equipment on the Oriental rug, all talking at once.
“I’m hungry,” the oldest one said. “Does Mrs. Thompson have cookies?”
“Yes.” Joy picked up the things the boys were tossing on the ground. “But there will be no snacks until you’ve put all your things away. I want backpacks, folders and other school supplies on the dining room table so I can sort through them later.” She handed the things back to the boys. “Your sporting equipment needs to go on the back porch—”
The boys grabbed their things and started to run off.
“I’m not finished,” Joy said with the authority of a mom. “I want it all organized. Don’t just throw it in there.”
The boys all had blond hair and blue eyes, and were stair steps in height, each coming up to the chin of the next one older. They nodded that they understood, but continued on to the dining room.
“If you have any dirty laundry, please put it down the laundry chute. And wash your hands!” she called out.
The shortest boy, maybe six years old, stopped and frowned at Chase. “Who are you?”
“This is Mr. Asher,” Joy said.
The boy looked up at Joy. “Did he know Grandpa Asher?”
“Who is Grandpa Asher?” Chase asked impatiently, recalling what Kinsley had said earlier.
“That’s what they called your uncle,” Joy said, a sad smile in her voice. “He was a grandpa to the kids in every way.”
“We miss him.” The little boy’s face pinched in grief for a moment, and then he ran toward the dining room, calling out to his brothers to wait for him.
Joy picked up some loose rubber bands and a stray paper clip on the rug.
“I can see why Uncle Morgan opened his home to you.” Chase shook his head in amazement at what he’d just seen. Joy. A mom. A good mom. “You’ve got your hands full. I’m just surprised that my father didn’t know you were here.”
“Why are you here, Chase?” Joy set the office supplies on a nearby table and turned to him, questions in her eyes.
He wished he didn’t have to tell her, but she’d have to learn the truth sometime. With a sigh he answered, “I came to sell Bee Tree Hill.”
Joy put her hand over her mouth to try to hide her reaction. Sell the mansion?
“But—” She swallowed hard. “I—I thought Uncle Morgan told the Asher Corporation that he wished for the children and me to live here after his death.”
Compassion filled Chase’s eyes, but he didn’t have any right to feel bad. Where was his compassion four years ago when he walked out on her? “My father didn’t say anything about Uncle Morgan’s wishes. And since the corporation owns the home, it’s ours to sell.”
At the mention of Chase’s father, Joy flinched. Her only experience with the man was when he’d heard that Chase wanted to marry her. She’d been a poor college student who had grown up in one foster home after the next. When Chase’s father had arrived, he confronted Joy while she was cleaning a bathroom and told her she would never be good enough for his son. He accused her of using Chase for his family’s money. While she knelt before a toilet, yellow rubber gloves on her hands, he told her he had given Chase an ultimatum, either he break things off with her, or lose his inheritance. When Chase left, without saying goodbye, Joy realized he had given her up for the money.
Of all the pain, rejection and disappointment she’d ever felt in her life, no one had demeaned her the way Chase’s father had that day.
Now Joy paced away from Chase, her mind spinning with everything that had just happened in the last ten minutes, hoping Kinsley and Harper would stay out of sight. She didn’t want him to ask any more questions about the twins. “What does this mean for the children and me? What about Mrs. Thompson? She’s lived here most of her life working for your uncle. With Mr. Thompson gone, she’s all alone in the world, and as far as I know, she doesn’t have a retirement to live on. Where will all of us go?”
Chase ran his hands through his dark brown hair. It was still as wavy and unruly as ever. How many times had she run her own hands through his hair? The memory of how it felt made her