Page 25 of The Billionaire's Secret Heir

Chapter Eight

Normally Madi woke up to the sound of Becka on the baby monitor or even her banging on the door to the nursery. She had been able to climb out of the crib for a long time, which sent Madi into a panic of extra baby-proofing. Her house had already been pretty safe, but it was different having Becka most days and now having her all day and all night permanently.

This morning the sound of Becka playing didn’t rouse Madi, but mechanical equipment. Lawn mowers, to be precise. She groaned and looked at the clock. There should be a law about this before eight in the morning. Normally her neighbors hired a service that came in the afternoons. Maybe she should go out and ask if she could pay them to do her lawn as well, since the broken mower still stood on the front lawn. Of course, that would require having money to pay them. She had been avoiding her bank statements, but Madi honestly didn’t know what kind of check she could write without bouncing.

She really needed to stop going back and forth with Beckett and just accept his terms. Whatever apartment or home she found next, she would definitely need a deposit to secure it. Later, she would call Bret and tell him just to say yes. As frustrating as it was to need and have to accept Beckett’s help, she had to face the fact that she needed it.

When one of the motors sounded like it went right under her window, Madi sat up. Becka started talking to herself in her crib. Great. On the one morning Becka slept past six, lawn mowers woke her up.

There it went again. It sounded like it was in her yard.

Stretching, Madi went to the front windows. Shock rooted her in place. A half-dozen guys were mowing, weed-eating, edging and whatever-ing her yard. She watched in disbelief for a few minutes. Her neighbors’ service consisted of a teenage kid from somewhere in the neighborhood and a push-mower. This felt like the equivalent of a Navy Seal team on a lawn care op. What exactly was going on? They must have the wrong house.

Becka started banging on the door to her room. Madi left the windows to get Becka. This, it turned out, was better than television. Becka sat on the floor with a cup of dry cereal, staring out the picture window at the work. One of the men waved through the window while trimming a hedge by the front porch. Becka blew him a kiss, which made him grin.

Madi was no less fascinated. She pulled one of her comfortable armchairs closer to the window and sat with her coffee. She should go outside and tell them that there was a mistake. But for today, she was taking this one accident as a gift of fate. She couldn’t mow the lawn with a broken mower, which now sat by the curb. She couldn’t hire someone. As long as they didn’t try to stick her with a bill in the end, she would take it.

“They’re mowing the lawn. That’s a lawn mower,” she said.

“Lawn mow-ah,” Becka said.

“That’s right. It’s something people do to make their yards look nice. It will help our landlady find new renters. If it looks terrible, no one will want the place. Which actually would have been good for us. I should have left it. Too late now.”

Madi saw another truck pulling up behind the pickup and trailer from the lawn care service. This was a bigger van and had ladders on the top. Three more guys got out of this van, one getting the ladder down from the top while the other two brought out a toolbox, paint cans, and wood.

“What in the world?”

“Work men,” Becka said.

Madi laughed. “That’s right. I don’t know what these guys are doing. I should probably call someone about this.”

Maybe Mrs. Covell had driven by, seen how horrible the house looked, and hired people for the new renter fast. If not, the only other likely option was one that would send Madi on a rampage. Before she assumed that Beckett was overstepping, she called Mrs. Covell.

“I most certainly did not hire anyone. Don’t think I’m going to pay for it, either. You’re living there. You pay for these costs.”

“Of course, Mrs. Covell. I just wanted to check. Have a nice day.”

This left Beckett. It had to be. Madi took a few deep breaths, but that had never really worked for her. Lord, give me patience. And reduce the urge I have to slap Beckett Van de Kamp.

“Ladder!” Becka stood with her cup of cereal, pointing toward the front yard. One of the men from the van was setting the ladder up against the side of the house.

“I didn’t know you knew that word! Yes, it’s a ladder. Now why that man is on a ladder … ”

Madi called Bret. He sounded surprised and a little cautious when he picked up. She’d been cool towards him since the meeting at VDKI and their conversations were short and strained, focused only on the back and forth about child support. Before that meeting, she might have thought Bret would be responsible for sending the workers. She realized that she wouldn’t have been as mad about it and didn’t want to examine the reasons too closely.

“Hey, Madi. How are you?”

“A little ticked off. I think I know already, but have to ask: do you have any idea why there is a lawn care company trimming the bushes at my house? Or guys on ladders?”

There was a pause. “I don’t. Is that happening right now?”

“Yes. It’s like an alien ship has landed on my lawn, depositing a bunch of worker bees. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Bret laughed. “Madi, you’re something. That would have been a nice gesture, but I didn’t think of it. I’m guessing you’ve already checked with your landlady?”

“She definitely didn’t call them. Which leads me to one person: Beckett Van de Kamp.”

Bret’s tone turned frosty. “I could imagine that controlling, overbearing billionaire might do something like that. Do you want me to contact him?”

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