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.
Tanya pretended to stick a finger down her throat and gag, but Megan kissed her doll and nodded, making her own curls dance.
“Emmylou, it’s time for us to go eat,” she said, darting off ahead of Tanya.
Noelani buried her hands in her shorts pockets and watched them disappear down the stairs.
“That was a nice thing you did for Megan. First real smile I’ve seen outta her.”
Noelani whirled and saw Adam standing quietly a few feet away, his fingers tucked loosely under his leather belt.
“Must you always sneak up on me?” she demanded. “Where on earth did you come from? We’ve been standing right next to the stairs.”
“I came up the back steps. I had to check something for Jackson in his office. He phoned the kitchen wanting you, actually. I transferred him to the library, but you didn’t answer. Now I see why. He’ll be pleased, you know. He worries a lot about his kid. Cut Tanya some slack, though. She watches Megan okay. It’s just that Auntie E is always harping at her, and those two clash. Tossing the doll was probably Esme’s doing. I suspect she was trying to erase Megan’s background.”
“That child’s hurting. Jackson should put his foot down. By the way, what did he want me for?”
“Oh, here.” Adam took a folded message from his pocket. “He ran into Nick downtown. Nick said the White Gold has a new Cajun group performing a couple of nights a week. Jackson thinks you should check them out and maybe book them for the cochon de lait.” Adam grinned. “Nick said they can be had cheap.”
Noelani read the message. “Is the White Gold a night club?”
“A riverboat casino. Building and staffing them is what Nick does.”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve barely begun to read through the notes on what the family did in the past. I’d just noticed the date he gave me is only two weeks away. I’d hit panic mode when I heard Megan crying. She found her doll in the trash.”
“So I gathered.”
“Reall
y? You spied on us that long?”
“I came down the hall about the time you left your room. You walked over to the stairs to talk to Tanya. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Likely story.” She stuck the note in her pocket.
“That band’s performing tonight. I’ll run you downtown.”
“Thanks, but you have your own work to do. I’ll phone a cab.”
Adam fidgeted. “We’re talking about the waterfront. At night,” he added.
She considered his subtle warning, glad he hadn’t felt the need to make a big deal about her being a defenseless woman. In truth, she didn’t know the area. They warned tourists against going into some parts of Honolulu at night. Her seat companion on the commuter flight from Dallas had mentioned that crime was on the rise in New Orleans. Perhaps it was also true for Baton Rouge. “If you’re quite sure it won’t disrupt your schedule, I may take you up on that offer.”
“No problem. I can’t do a lot until the wood for the cabinets arrives or the roof is finished. With any luck, both will be sometime next week.”
“What time, then? Is it all right if I wear jeans? I may have packed a white pair, but my wardrobe leaves a lot to be desired. I hadn’t planned to stay. Since I’ll be here until they divvy up the property, I phoned Bruce and asked him to ship a better assortment of clothes.”
“Who’s Bruce? I never thought to ask if you had a boyfriend or a live-in.”
She elevated an eyebrow. “Not that it’s your business, Mr. Nosy, but Bruce is a contemporary of Duke’s. I work at his sugar mill, as did my mom and almost everyone else in our town. I live in one of his rentals. Bruce has a master key, and that’s why he was the person I called. Although his secretary, Midori, would have a better eye for choosing shoes and accessories. Oh, well.” She grimaced. “It’s already done.”
“So you worked in sugar? Doing what?”
“I set up Shiller’s computerized vat and fermentation system. Most recently I developed a program to speed up the creeper feeders. They carry the cane to be crushed, in case you aren’t familiar with the process.”
“I’m not. But it sounds interesting. Do Jackson and Casey know they have all this experience under their roof? I’d think they’d want you overseeing the mill instead of coordinating a party. Not that I have anything against parties, mind you.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m probably the least likely party animal you’ll find living in the deep South.”
“Ri-ight,” she drawled.
“It’s true. I took over as man of the house when my dad, a pilot, went to ’Nam. My mother never worked outside the home until we got word that his plane had been shot down. She attempted retail, hoping to take her mind off his disappearance, but…she wasn’t well.” Adam’s face reflected the state of his memories. “The longer it dragged on without his being found, either dead or alive, the tougher it was for Mom.”
Noelani’s demeanor changed at once from sarcastic teasing to total empathy. “That’s awful, Adam. Was he okay when they found him?”
“He’s MIA. The navy assumes he’s dead.” So does Mom, when she’s lucid. He now had Charlotte Ross in a good sanatorium upriver. Shadows clouded Adam’s blue eyes as he fingered a cross worn around his neck. He ran it back and forth along a gold chain. “Some mornings I still wake up thinking this’ll be the day Dad walks through my door.”
Noelani nibbled her lower lip. Finally, she squeezed his arm. “Stop. I can see that talking about this bothers you. I understand, because I hate talking about my—about the man who fathered me.” She glanced at her watch. “We both need to get back to work. What time shall I be ready to go to the White Gold?”
“I’m sure Betty would be happy to have two fewer people for dinner. Remember the place I mentioned last night that has great alligator? It’s near the casino. We can eat after you hear the band.”
Having softened toward him in the aftermath of his sad tale, Noelani agreed. “I’m not eating alligator, Adam, but I guess I can see what else they offer.”
“Good. Great.” He galloped toward the stairs before she could change her mind. “I’ll let Betty know. Be out front at six, okay?”
“Yes. Sure, I’ll be ready.”
She listened to him clatter down the stairs and slowly made her way to the library to start listing her duties as cochon de lait organizer. Adam was right; this probably was wasting her talent. On the other hand, she liked to excel at any job she did. So the Fontaines had better get set for the best darned party they’d ever experienced.
Noelani couldn’t help it if her mind detoured every now and then. On paths that led to thoughts of Adam…
She was touched by what he’d said about his growing up—and what he hadn’t. A boy, not very old, forced to deal with a mother who was sick and whose heart was probably broken, as well. Relatives and neighbors probably hadn’t understood. She could be summing up her own life. The similarity between them was almost uncanny. It certainly made her take a different view of Adam Ross.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE MISSISSIPPI WAS SWOLLEN and brown with mud after recent rains. The night air pressed in, covering her body with a fine sheen of perspiration. Noelani was used to a bright moon suspended over a white-capped ocean. Here the moon barely cleared the rooftops, and it glowed an eerie, sickly yellow. Still, embarking on a new adventure, she could hardly contain a shimmer of excitement.
“There’s a haze clouding the moon,” she said. “It’s like you’re viewing the moon through gauze. In Hawaii, the moon and stars are clear and bright.”
Adam squinted up through the windshield. “Used to be southern harvest moons were fantastic. But gas refineries have sprung up along the river. They pollute the air and belch smoke and carbons into the river and sky. Cane farmers and residents alike complain, but the powers-that-be look the other way. They want the tax revenues.”
“Is there a possibility pollution will drive cane growers out altogether?” Her thoughts were on the declining Hawaiian cane industry as Adam found a place to park.
“You’d have to ask Jackson or Casey. I know Jackson’s working with lobbyists.” Adam held the door as she got out, and then locked his pickup.
“I heard Jackson tell Casey he had lunch planned with some lobbyists today,” she said. “It’d be a shame if the cane fields wither away as they are in Hawaii. I intend to see Shiller’s become what it was in my mother’s day. If I envy Duke’s kids anything, it’s…well, never mind. You don’t want me going on about that, I’m sure.”
“Duke didn’t play square with any of you.”
“You won’t hear objections from me on that score.”
Adam placed a hand on her waist as they navigated the first of a series of ramps leading to the White Gold—a replica of a paddle wheeler. The walkway was crowded with jovial people all headed into the boat.
Noelani moved closer to Adam. “Are all these people here to listen to the band?” By now the catchy beat of a familiar tune spilled from the gently rocking boat.
“They’re here to gamble. Music and liquor are perks to keep patrons on the boat spending money.”
“Do you gamble?”
“I have better things to do with my hard-earned cash. But feel free to throw some of yours in the slots, sugar pie.”
“I’ve never been to a casino. I wouldn’t know what to do. I have better things to do with my money, too,” she said as they entered the dimly lit interior. The noise intensified; music and laughter now competed with the spin of slots and the clank of falling coins. Someone jostled Noelani, knocking her into Adam. She pressed both hands against his chest to remain balanced, and felt his heart pick up its tempo. Usually she shied away from closeness. Not this time. She maintained contact, liking the feel of his muscles under her hands.
Adam slid his arms protectively around her back. “Boy, it’s packed tonight. There must be some big convention in town. Let’s see if we can work our way
upstairs to where the band is.”
She nodded but was reluctant to leave Adam’s arms—certainly much more so than she ought to be. In marked contrast to the smoke, whiskey fumes and cloying perfumes rising from a row of women at the slots, Adam’s shirt smelled of crisp, clean starch. His aftershave was a subtle mix of lime and some nice scent Noelani couldn’t name. She liked it, though. A lot.
“Whew!” Adam stumbled with her out onto the upper deck, where the crowd was thinner. In place of slots, this deck offered roulette, craps and other game tables. A polished wood bar curved in a large horseshoe around a compact dance floor. Off to their right was a raised stage on which five musicians sat, belting out lively tunes.
“There’s Nick and Casey. I wonder what they’re doing here.” Adam clamped a hand on Noelani’s upper arm and literally dragged her across the room.
The men shook hands. Casey, who leaned against the bar, tightened her hold on her shoulder purse and stepped well to their right. “Are you about finished, Nick? You said this wouldn’t take a minute.”
“What’s your hurry?” Adam asked, smiling at her.
Casually looping an arm around Casey’s waist, Nick continued talking to a snazzily dressed older gentleman. A shrug was Casey’s only response to Adam’s question.
Noelani propped a foot on the rung of an adjacent bar stool. “Every time I see you, you’re in a rush to take off. I have a question about your harvester.”
Casey’s head snapped around. “What about our harvester? I’m paying Len Forsen extra to keep an eye on it night and day.”
“Adam mentioned you’d had one stolen. That’s terrible. But I’m interested in learning the make, model and where I can get a brochure. I’ve been so concerned with increasing production on the mill end of harvest, I’ve paid no attention to the cutting process. In Hawaii, if it rains, cutting comes to a standstill. According to Adam, you cut the day I arrived, and it rained cats and dogs.”
Casey looked her half sister up and down. “You really do work in cane?”
The Secret Daughter Page 6
