The Secret Daughter

“So, if they caught him, I should be okay. You’re trying to scare me, aren’t you.”

“Call it erring on the side of caution. The guy swears someone hired him anonymously. There’s no proof. Even so, I think I’ll mosey along with you to be safe.”

A thrill shot Noelani’s pulse skyrocketing. But she’d be darned if she’d let Adam Ross see she welcomed his attention. “How do I know I won’t be safer alone than with you?” She gazed at him demurely through her lashes.

“You’ll have to take my word for it, sugar pie. Or if you prefer, I’ll escort you straight upstairs to your little ol’ bed.”

Noelani debated whether or not she should deflate his ego, and decided not to bother. She was more concerned about what he’d said. If the Fontaines had enemies, by virtue of her connection to Duke, they became hers, too. Come to think of it, Adam Ross had pretty free access to the property any hour of the day or night. Maybe someone should keep an eye on him. Someone like her.

CHAPTER THREE

JACKSON, NICK AND SHELBURNE rose quickly to their feet when Noelani entered the dining room the next morning. Casey stared at her over a mug of steaming coffee, her jade eyes still distant and cold.

“Coffee and juice are on the sideboard,” Jackson said. “If you want what we’re having, Betty’s cooking on the stove out back on the screened porch. Most years it’s used for canning during hot summers. But until Adam restores the kitchen, Betty will prepare our family meals there.”

“Coffee’s fine. I’m not big on breakfast.” Noelani poured a cup and wondered whether to take a seat next to Prescott or one beside Casey. She chose to be nearer the sideboard, and caught Casey’s unapologetic shift closer to her husband.

Noelani blew on her coffee to cool it. “You’ve got healthy-looking cane,” she said casually. “Depending on how much acreage you have, your yield could be spectacular.”

Jackson said “Two thousand acres,” a figure large enough to impress Noelani.

“Stay out of my cane,” Casey said, slamming down her mug. “The fields are my responsibility. Duke left me in charge before he went on the trip.”

“Casey.” Jackson and Nick cautioned her simultaneously.

Noelani wasn’t going to be walked on. “I distinctly heard Mr. Prescott say the cane, the mill, the refinery and everything to do with the business is a three-way split.”

“Maybe Duke wasn’t of sound mind,” Casey said, clenching her hands.

Nick stroked her tense arm. “Let me figure a way to help you buy Noelani out.”

“No. You sank a bundle in the boatworks, and now with Moreau defaulting…”

“Casey’s right. Thanks, Nick, but we’ll manage.” Jackson drank from his mug. “So, Noelani. You slept on our last discussion?”

“Yes. I’m staying until the business is solvent. I hadn’t planned to, but I phoned Bruce again last night. He’ll send me more of my clothes and things.”

Turning to Prescott, who’d mopped up the remaining egg on his plate with a pancake, Jackson said, “You reran those figures? There’s no way Casey and I can cash out Noelani today with whatever Maman left?”

Wiping his pudgy face with a napkin, Shel tossed it down and tilted back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his portly middle. “The way I see it, Jackson, you need every dime you can scare up to pay your crew. Plus, you’ll have to borrow to meet the mill payroll.”

Casey came hissing out of her chair. “We have money coming in from twenty-five growers and forty or so landlords who dump cane at our mill.”

Jackson scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thank God for that influx of cash, since the insurance companies are delaying until the National Transportation Safety Board finishes evaluating the crash. Casey, we’ll need those funds to buy supplies and to pay the landlords based on the core sampling of their loads.”

“That’s your end, Jackson. Mine is to grow the best damned cane in the state. I’m doing that,” Casey said. “My hybrids are thriving.”

A wiry woman of undetermined age, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, stepped into the kitchen through a side door. “Y’all want any more food before I dish it up and stick it in the warming oven for those lay-a-beds?”

“No thanks, Betty.” Jackson spoke as he glanced around the table. “Noelani?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Betty, this is our…uh…Noelani Hana. You’ll be adding a plate for her, maybe until Epiphany, which is when we tally our tonnage at the refinery.”

“I don’t eat meat,” Noelani supplied, smiling at the woman.

“Well, I ain’t no short-order cook,” Betty returned, propping her hands on skinny hips.

“I didn’t mean…” Noelani scrabbled to rephrase her intent. “Don’t add extra for me if you’re preparing a meat dish.”

Everyone at the table skewered her with a glance. She glared back defiantly. “I’ll make do with salads and vegetables if you’re serving them, anyway. If none of you eat fruit, I’ll shop for some. I’m sure you must have a free corner in the fridge.”

“Not a problem,” Jackson injected smoothly. “Make a list. Betty can pick extra fruit up each week when she shops.”

Shelburne shoved back his chair. “Since you’re leaving Duke’s disbursements in limbo for now, I’ll be on my way. Good vittles as always, Betty. ’Course, my cardiologist won’t thank you.”

“If you’re gonna eat like that, you’ve gotta exercise,” she said, then withdrew.

Prescott clapped a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Say, Harold Broderick might be in jail, but he’s some piece of work. Good thing Nick and Casey ID’d him as your vandal. I hear he’s not giving in, though. Seems he’s hired a pricey New Orleans defense lawyer. Who’d think selling a cane harvester on the black market would pay well enough to afford that kind of counsel?”

Jackson tugged at his lower lip. “Maybe Broderick got the proceeds from other robberies.”

“Yeah? Could be. Well, like I said, I have to hit the road. No, don’t get up, Jackson. I know the way out. I’m sure you have things to do.”

Casey stacked her plate and Nick’s. Reaching over, she added Shelburne’s. “Are you finished?” she asked her brother. “Time I made my rounds of the fields.”

Nick drained his cup. “I should’ve brought my car. I have an appointment with a company I may hire to do the interior of my next floating casino.”

Jackson went to the sideboard and refilled his travel mug. “I’ve got a growers’ meeting in town at eight. Afterward, several of us are taking a few of our D.C. lobbyists to lunch. We’d like them to bend somebody’s ear on the Beltway. Get them to raise the cap on the three cents we get for sugar on the world market. Either that or tighten controls on Mexico to make sure they aren’t shipping more than their quota.”

“You know they are,” Casey said with a snort.

“Apparently our friends in high places aren’t aware of that. Or else they don’t care.”

Noelani found their discussion interesting. But she didn’t want them to walk out and leave her twiddling her thumbs. “What shall I do today?”

“Your nails?” Casey said too sweetly.

Noelani displayed her short, efficiently clipped nails. “In Hawaiian, the name Hana means work. I’m not sitting on my butt for five months when I have thirty-three-and-a-third percent interest in your operation.”

Casey all but lost her grip on the plates she’d gathered.

“You and Nick shove off,” Jackson said quickly. “I have just the job for Noelani. What with the funeral, the wedding and the delay caused by the missing harvester, we put off our yearly cochon de lait. The workers are grumbling. So, Casey, I’m giving Noelani the file and putting her in charge of arranging a pigfest.”

“Like a luau, you mean?” Noelani straightened in anticipation.

“Brother!” Casey rolled her eyes. “This ought to be a farce and a half.”

Nick exchanged unreadable glances with Jackson, then aimed a kiss at Casey’s neck. He hustled her through the archway into the makeshift kitchen.

“Top off your mug and follow me, Noelani. Our cochon de lait is similar to a luau. It’s a party that usually kicks off harvest. Several whole pigs are roasted either on a spit or in a pit. We happen to use spits.”

“Then a pua’a? That’s a plain pig roast.” She shook her head. “Disgusting practice to a vegetarian—but I understand if it’s your tradition.”

“Whatever. It’s all spelled out in the file. But instead of ukuleles and hula dancers, we hire Cajun and Zydeco bands. We serve mint juleps.” He opened his office door, crossed the room and pulled an accordion folder out of a cabinet. “If you need help finding caterers or musicians, or wording the flyer, Aunt Esme can advise you.”

“Is there a place you’d like me to work on this?” She gave a sidelong glance at his cluttered desk.

“There’s a desk in the kitchen—the fire missed it. You can use it if you’re not in Adam’s way. There’s another in the family room upstairs. Tanya and Megan hang out there, reading, playing or watching TV. That may turn out to be a little noisy if you’re trying to talk on the phone. Oh, hey—speaking of Megan, I promised I’d get her up and read her a story before I leave for my meeting.”

“She’s sweet. Do you have her full-time or do you split custody with her mom?”

Jackson stopped abruptly. “Since you’ll be living here temporarily, you should know Megan’s history. Her mom and I were never married. Unfortunately, Janis fell in with a bad crowd. She’s doing time. If she phones, she’s not to talk with Megan. In fact, it’s better if no one discusses her mother.”

“As you wish.” Noelani put some distance between herself and Jackson. She’d been feeling more comfortable with him, but what now ran through her mind was like father, like son. Spawning illegitimate children seemed no big deal to the Fontaine men. No wonder Megan looked lost. Well, Noelani figured, she and the little girl had a lot in common. Still…Jackson tucked his daughter into bed at night and cared enough to read her stories. Perhaps he was a cut above his father, after all.

She hung back as he took the stairs two at a time. Turning left, she shoved open the door that led to the kitchen. As she stepped inside, she stumbled over Adam Ross. She dropped her folder and splashed coffee on Adam and a second man, who leaped away, but not fast enough.

“Did I burn you?” she gasped. Putting down her mug and hopping across a tape measure the men had stretched in front of the door, Noelani left her papers strewn everywhere and found a tissue in her shorts pocket. She dabbed at coffee splotches on Adam’s neck and arm. “Hold still.”

“Stop, you’re rubbing too hard.”

“Oh, sorry.” She stepped back, only to bump squarely into the fair-haired stranger.

“Hi. I’m Murray Dewalt. I live next door at the Woodlands plantation. If you’re one of Adam’s subcontractors, I’m seriously going to consider a new occupation.”

“Uh…I’m Noelani Hana.”

“Ah. The thorn in Casey’s side.” Blue eyes assessed her quite thoroughly.

“Excuse me?” Noelani said coolly.

“Murray, after that comment I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Ah…gotcha. See you later, Adam. And you, too, sweet thing.”

“Now you’ve really done it,” Adam murmured just as Noelani took a deep breath. “Run, Murray, and if you value your life, don’t ever call her that again.”

Their neighbor left, but instead of running he sauntered out, chuckling all the while.

Adam stopped to scrape together some of the papers decorating the floor. The Fontaine letterhead at the top of one sheet gave him pause. “What’s this? Are you making off with important family documents? Have I foiled your attempt?”

“Very funny. Ha, ha! Give me those. You and your friend are both too funny for words.”

“Murray’s Jackson and Casey’s friend. Well, maybe not Casey’s,” he muttered. “And definitely not Nick’s. Murray wanted to be more than friends with Casey. She didn’t want that, and then he proposed and it got messy.”

“Oh? Oh, I see.” She paused. “Jackson put me in charge of arranging a cochon de lait. This file is my guideline. Darn, I hope these pages weren’t in any kind of order.”

She ripped a stack of papers out of his hand and stuffed them back into the collapsed accordion file.

In the act of rising from his knees, Adam was left staring at Noelani’s bare legs.

He did what any red-blooded man whose tongue had just about dropped on the floor would do. He mustered enough spit to peal off a wolf whistle.

“Oh, grow up.” Noelani leaned down to collect her mug from where she’d set it on the floor.

He slapped a hand over his heart. “May God strike me dead if I ever get too old to appreciate a woman’s legs.”

“And well He may. Hmm. I see you have stuff all over the desk. Jackson said I could use the phone here to make some calls.” She began backing toward the door. “He said if I’d be in your way there’s also a desk upstairs in the family room.”

“Hey, you won’t be in my way.” Adam hurriedly gathered up blueprints from the desk. “I’ll throw these on one of the counters.”

“What’s that racket?” Noelani tipped her head back to stare at the smoky ceiling. It sounded as if a herd of elephants had landed above and were tromping about.

“Roofers. They’re tearing up burned shingles today. With luck, they’ll have time to lay plywood, too. Then tomorrow, they can spend the day putting on a new roof.”

She set her mug on the desk, wrapped both arms around the bulky file and plastered her nose against the window. “If those scattered bundles are new shingles, I can’t tell them from the old ones—except for the charred spots.”

“That’s the idea, sugar pie. When I finish, this place will look exactly like it was before the fire.”

She released a dark strand of hair caught on her lips. “Is my name too much for you to manage, Adam? No-eh-lon-ee. Four simple syllables.”

He grinned rakishly. “It’s a wonderful name, too. Straight out of James Michener’s Hawaii. What a book.”

“Actually, I was named after a Maui resort. It’s where Duke Fontaine stayed when he and my mother met. Quite frankly, I’d rather be named for Michener’s character.”

“Did you ever pick up a phone to tell your father how mad he made you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stalked to the desk and slammed down the file.

“I’ll bet it would have eased the load you’re lugging around. And we both know I’m not talking about the folder you just took out your aggressions on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ross, for that two-bit psychoanalysis. But it hardly falls under the heading of historical restoration. I’m sure you have something important you’re being paid to do.”

“Ouch! I scored a direct hit on a sore subject, I see.”

“You see nothing. You know nothing about me, and you have no idea what it was like growing up in my shoes.”

Adam held up his hands, palms out. “That’s right. We can rectify that over dinner. I’m talking about a meal in town. You ever had fried alligator? There’s this cool Cajun place near the river. Alligator is their signature dish.”

“I don’t eat meat.”

“They do a mean crab salad. Wait, wait, I see you crossing your eyes. Aren’t crabs technically crustaceans and not mammals?”

“Did it never occur to you that I don’t want to go out with you?”

He raised a shoulder. “That’s plain enough. Tell me, did I say something last night to annoy you? I enjoyed our walk. I thought we’d hit it off.”

Noelani shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. Without uttering another word, she snatched up her file and mug, and left the same way she’d entered.

Adam watched the door swing forward and back on its hinges. Damn, but he’d never met such a prickly woman. He’d assumed, after last night’s uncomfortable meal, that she’d jump at the chance not to repeat that experience. Somehow, he really doubted breakfast had gone better. Adam had been leaving the garçonnière and chanced to overhear Casey ranting to Nick about Jackson going soft on their father’s little indiscretion. Adam thought if anyone could use a friend, it was Noelani Hana.

But if he offered an olive branch and all she wanted to do was wrap it around his neck, that was A-okay with him. He didn’t need the distraction from his work. He had precious little free time as it was. Why waste it in the company of a bad-tempered, hotheaded woman who wasn’t planning to stick around? Adam had heard Casey say to Nick that if they’d had the means, Noelani would take her money and run. With an estate of this size, surely it wouldn’t be long before they had funds to send her packing.

Slamming outside, Adam shoved the whole kit and caboodle to the back of his mind and went to have a word with his roofing subcontractor.

UPSTAIRS, NOELANI SPREAD the information on previous parties out on the desk and tried to make sense of the various lists. She heard a noise behind her. It wasn’t much, and sounded as if it came from behind the couch, which stood near a row of floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

She slipped from her chair and tiptoed across the room, aware of each creak in the old floor, wondering who or what had made that sound. She didn’t expect to find Jackson’s daughter, Megan, huddled in a corner behind the couch, hugging a tattered rag doll and crying. Not really crying, Noelani decided. More the kind of body-racking sobs that followed a crying jag. A child’s book lay forgotten on the floor.

“Hi, Megan. It’s Noelani. Do you remember meeting me last night?” Afraid of scaring the little girl if she hung over the back of the couch, Noelani walked around it and sat cross-legged on the floor. Not too near so as to appear threatening, but close enough for comfort.

Megan hugged her doll tighter. The girl wore a long, frilly pink nightie and fuzzy bunny slippers. Her beautiful dark curls were tangled from sleep.

“Does your tummy hurt?”

Megan shook her head until her curls bobbed.

“Did you get up to go to the bathroom and forget the way back to your bed?” Esme had skipped Jackson’s end of the house on her tour, so Noelani wasn’t sure if the child shared a bath with Tanya, or if she had one en suite.

Noelani sighed. “I’m not a good guesser. Maybe you should tell me why you’re crying.”

“I came to wave bye-bye to Daddy. And I fo…found Emmylou in a s-sack. In the trash.” She pointed a quivering finger toward a waste basket tucked between a lamp and the bookcase.

“Mommy gave her to me. I lost Emmylou and Miss Tanya said she was gone. She said I could only sleep with the dolly Daddy bought me. But…but she’s hard. Not soft like Emmylou.”

Several thoughts as to how the doll might have accidentally ended up in the trash flitted through Noelani’s mind. None made sense, especially since there was no denying that the crumpled plastic bag bore the name of a local boutique. Obviously someone had tried to dispose of the tattered doll.

Nanny Tanya, with eyes that coveted Jackson, fell several notches in Noelani’s estimation. But would a young woman who was infatuated with her boss take anything so drastic upon herself?

But Noelani preferred to blame Tanya rather than Jackson. This morning he’d acted concerned about his daughter’s transition into the household. He wouldn’t sink so low as to dispose of a harmless toy.

“Did your daddy read you that book this morning?”

Megan nodded. Hooking the doll under one arm, she pulled the book onto her lap. “He woke me up. We read half. Then he had to go to a meeting.”

“I see it’s Dragon Tales. That’s one of my favorite stories. Would you like me to read the second half now?”

Nodding her head, Megan lifted the large book and handed it to Noelani.

“Shall we go sit on the couch? The light’s better, and I think we’d be more comfortable.”

The child weighed that thought carefully. Finally, she got up and scampered over to perch on the very end of the sofa.

Noelani sat at the opposite end, near the lamp. She found the place where Megan’s daddy had left off, and she began to read.

Little by little, Megan edged closer. Until finally she wriggled right up next to Noelani, who used various voices for the characters, from tiny to gruff to scary. Megan started out not smiling. Ten minutes later, she was giggling out loud.

They were both laughing when Tanya Carson rushed into the room looking as if she’d thrown on her clothes haphazardly.

“Megan! You gave me a scare, disappearing right out of your bed like that. It’s time for you to dress and go downstairs for breakfast. Oh, my, how…where did you find that pitiful thang?” Tanya shoved her glasses up her nose and glared accusingly at Noelani.

Megan edged closer, shifting the doll, whose threadbare dress was badly torn and whose button eye was missing, into the space between her and Noelani.

“Isn’t it lucky Megan found her favorite toy, Tanya?”

“But Jackson bought her a perfectly beautiful new doll. She has long blond curls, eyes that move and three changes of clothes. Oh, you don’t understand. Jackson wants her to play with her new doll.”

“Jackson wants his daughter to be happy here,” Noelani said flatly. “This morning he asked if I’d seen this doll anywhere.” She crossed her fingers below the book and silently begged forgiveness for such a blatant lie.

“He did?” Tanya blinked several times.

Noelani smiled at Megan. “Honey, I have a sewing kit in my room. If you’ll leave your baby with me while you go with Tanya and get dressed, I’ll mend her so she’ll be almost as good as new.”

Tanya stuck up her nose. “There’s not enough thread in the universe to accomplish that miracle.”

“You’d be surprised what a little cosmetic surgery can do. How about it, Megan, would you like me to sew up Emmylou’s rips?”

The four-year-old gave her doll one last squeeze before placing her trustingly into Noelani’s hands. “Please,” she said in a very small voice. “Take good care of her. I was so afraid Emmylou got taken somewhere far away—like Mommy.” Little face sober again, Megan slid off the couch and walked sedately from the room.

Even as Tanya flounced out and snatched the child’s hand, Megan kept darting glances back at Noelani, as if checking to make sure her most cherished possession was safe.

Anger mounting for that poor, motherless girl, Noelani leaped up the second she heard the door at the end of the hall slam. Hurrying straight to her own room, she made a mental note to have another talk with her half brother. Megan needed to be able to ask honest questions about her mother. The child needed to know she hadn’t been abandoned. Noelani could attest firsthand to the fact that avoiding mention of an absent parent only led to frustration, mistrust and outright dislike on the part of the child.

She found her sewing kit and stitched quickly. A button for the missing eye presented the biggest problem. Her kit had come with white buttons in three sizes and an assortment of safety pins. The doll’s eyes were half an inch around and black.

The black suit she’d worn on the plane had exactly the right-size buttons on the jacket cuffs. “Emmylou needs this more than me.” A snip of the scissors and Noelani had her button.

After she’d finished, she held the doll at arm’s length and eyed her critically. With felt and yarn maybe she could fix the shoes and the hair. But she had none, and anyway, Megan loved the rag doll exactly as she was. Tucking the doll under her arm, she went off in search of the little girl.

It turned out she didn’t have to go far. Noelani opened her bedroom door and practically fell over the child. Tanya leaned against the wall by the stairs. “There you are. Thank goodness! Megan refused to go have breakfast without her doll. Betty’s going to throw a hissy fit ’cause we’re so late.”

Noelani tuned Tanya out. She focused in on the beautiful smile slowly blossoming on Megan’s face.

“Emmylou’s all well. You found her a new eye, No’lani. Oh, thank you. I’ve worried and worried ‘bout her not being able to see so good.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Maybe one of these days, you and I can go to town and find yarn to spruce up her hair. Give her a new look.” She smiled gently at the child.