Page 26 of The Billionaire's Secret Heir

“I’d like his information please. I’ll handle it directly. Has he sent over a counter-offer on the child support?

“Actually, yes.”

“Great. Whatever it is, as long as it’s above what I last asked for, just say yes. I need to get this moving. I have to find a new place to live and will need a deposit.”

There was a brief pause before Bret spoke. “Madi, do you need any help? Because I’m happy to help you out right now until this all settles.”

“That won’t be necessary. But thank you for offering.”

After they had hung up, her phone beeped and she looked to see that Bret had shared Beckett’s contact information with her. It didn’t say whether the phone number was for his office or his cell. Should she call? After an internal debate, she decided to take an early walk with Becka.

When she went outside, she approached one of the men who was stirring paint in a large gray bucket. He was older than she was with thinning brown and gray hair. His skin looked weathered from the sun. Madi didn’t want to get stuck with a bill from whatever was happening out there, but so far none of the guys working in her yard or on the house had even approached the door. Someone had clearly hired them and given instructions, since they were replacing the wood underneath the eaves and touching up the paint. If she had any doubts that it was Beckett, they were gone. Obviously, he had catalogued everything wrong with the house when he stopped by the day before.

“Excuse me,” Madi said, stopping with the stroller by the edge of the sidewalk where the man crouched. “Who ordered this work to be done? I assume that someone has already paid you for your work?”

He smiled up at her. “Yes ma’am. It’s all been covered already. I thought we’d be here tomorrow as well, but we’re making good time. We’re replacing the rotten wood and touching up some of the trim paint.”

“Thank you,” Madi said. “It looks better already.”

He shrugged. “You’re most welcome.”

“Welcome,” Becka parroted.

The man’s face softened. “Is she two? I’ve got a little granddaughter about that age. She’s beautiful.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Madi asked. “Thank you.”

As she walked away, pushing the stroller toward Proctor Park, a thought struck her: Beckett cared about getting her house fixed up, but not about his daughter. A random stranger painting trim was more interested in Becka. She picked up her pace, letting tears that were both sad and angry dry on her cheeks.

* * *

By the afternoon, the men were done and gone as though they’d never been there at all. After some struggle, Madi got Becka down for her nap and went outside to survey the changes. When they had gotten back from the park, the landscaping guys had been almost finished, but the other workmen had ladders up and stacks of wood and tools so that it was hard to see. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the house, Madi could clearly see how far a few hours and what was likely a few thousand dollars went.

It looked like a new house. She had gotten so used to the deterioration that Madi really only could understand how bad it had gotten seeing how good it looked now. All the rotten wood had been replaced and all the trim painted a fresh, crisp white. The same paint had been used on the porch railings, which also seemed to have new spindles. Or maybe they were so dingy before that Madi just hadn’t noticed them. A gutter that had been hanging off the front roofline had been put back into place.

The bushes were trimmed neatly so that they looked like hedges, not just overgrown green stuff. If she had to guess, it looked like they even washed the windows. They gleamed. Even the tree branches had been trimmed, letting more light filter down to the front of the house and giving everything a tidy look. Flowers had been planted along the porch and under the windows.

Her chest ached. Madi loved seeing the house as it should be. This had been a great home to her for years. But it was a reminder that she wouldn’t be here for much longer. In fact, while she stood there, a car pulled up along the street and a woman in a gray suit got out.

“Hello,” the woman said. “I’m Susan Rath, Mrs. Covell’s realtor.”

“Hello. I’m Madi. The current renter.”

“Wow.” Susan stood with her hands on her hips, admiring the house. “I thought this place was supposed to be in bad shape.”

“It was,” Madi said.

“You did a great job with this.”

“Thanks.” Madi didn’t feel like explaining. The tears had fled, leaving her feeling simply exhausted. She did not want to be having this conversation right now. She wanted to curl up on her comfortable sofa inside the only place that had felt like home in her adult life. The only place that Becka had known.

Susan didn’t ask any more questions, but pulled a sign from the back of the car. While Madi watched, she plunked it in the front yard, using her heel to push it firmly into the ground. It had a smiling picture of Susan and “For Sale or Lease” in large red letters. Just the sight tugged at her heart.

“I thought she already had a renter. Is she selling the place?” Madi tried to tamp down her hopeful thoughts. Not like she could afford it. Even with whatever she got from Beckett. Her credit was terrible and she had next to nothing saved for a down payment, just a meager emergency fund that she had essentially emptied after Calista’s death.

“She’s had some interest, but nothing’s in stone. Out of curiosity, why aren’t you staying?”

“I wanted to,” Madi said. She shifted uncomfortably. Explaining the real reasons for things lately meant talking about Calista, which meant dealing with people pitying her or offering platitudes. Sometimes it was better to be general. “My situation changed and I didn’t have the money lined up for next month’s rent to secure the contract.”

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