The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Yeah. Auntie E said Betty needs a table for her desserts. If I don’t get it delivered, Betty will accuse Esme of not telling me.”

  “Talk about people who don’t get along! Those two take the prize.”

  “Or does each woman envy the other?”

  “You obviously see something I’m missing.”

  “Consider this. Betty slops around the house in jeans and rides a Harley. Does as she damn well pleases. Esme’s every inch a lady. She still wears white gloves and a hat to church. She conforms to all of society’s rules. Folks in town call her Miss Esme out of respect. Betty attended the school of hard knocks, not a finishing school in Paris, so she’s jealous and gets in her digs. But maybe Esme’s tired of being a straight arrow all the time.”

  “Anything’s possible. For a guy, you have deep insights into human failings.”

  “You wouldn’t be calling me an armchair psychologist, would you?” Adam squatted to lift the six-foot folding table again. His well-defined biceps and back muscles bunched as he hoisted it to his shoulder. “If so,” he grunted, taking a few steps to balance the heavy load, “just remember how remarkably shortsighted I am when it comes to identifying my own faults.” He started down the path, but slowed when he drew abreast of her and winked broadly before taking off at a trot.

  She found herself grinning at his foolishness just as Esme left the house. “Mercy, I told Jacque DuPree you left fifteen minutes ago. Is something wrong? Who are you smiling at?” Esme swung in a circle.

  “At Adam. He can be so annoying one minute and so charming the next.”

  Esme raised a carefully made-up eyebrow. “His mother came from good stock. She was a delicate thing. The poor dear’s life went from bad to worse after she married that Yankee pilot. Tragic, really, the way she lost the family home.”

  The women walked together toward the floating smoke from the barbecues. “No family is immune to problems, Aunt Esme. Vietnam wreaked havoc in a lot of lives,” she said, as if Adam’s mother needed an advocate.

  “Nothing like the Civil War, Noelani. That war pitted brother against brother. I dislike talking about it. What I meant is, Adam has enough of his grandfather Ormond in him to counter the Ross blood. He’s a good boy. Oh, does that pork smell delicious. A cochon de lait is exactly what we need to get beyond the unpleasantness of the last few months.”

  “I haven’t seen Jackson since his meeting at the bank yesterday. Is everything okay? Whenever I’ve run into him lately, he seemed pretty stressed.”

  Esme fluttered a hand decked out with three rings, all set with impressive stones. “Duke’s insurance carrier is being tedious. I’m sure it’s routine to investigate a plane crash, but this is preposterous. My brother would never take his life or Angelique’s. Oh, they had spats. What couple doesn’t? But…Duke loved life. He loved the plantation and his family. I wish they’d settle the claim so things here can get back to normal.”

  Noelani seconded that notion. She worried about what was happening with Bruce’s harvest. He’d sounded rushed the last few times she’d phoned. Noelani trusted her programs to keep the mill running and yet—it would be nice to verify that all was well.

  Esme broke into Noelani’s private thoughts. “We part company here. I have to go see if that woman followed my instructions on mixing Mama’s mint juleps.”

  “That woman? Ah, you mean, Betty.” Noelani remained somewhat confused. “I thought she’s made the juleps for the last five years?”

  “Humph! It’d be just like her to leave out an ingredient to spite me. Honestly, I wish Jackson would fire her. Hiring that woman is the only disagreement I ever had with Angelique. When the cook who’d been with us forever up and died, my sister-in-law brought in her twice-removed cousin without so much as consulting anyone else living under her roof.”

  “I’m no gourmet, but Betty’s meals certainly get eaten.”

  Esme sniffed. “In public, she’s a fright. I shudder to think what the neighbors say behind our backs when she rides that awful bike to the store to do our shopping.”

  Noelani remembered what Adam said about Esme secretly envying Betty her joie de vivre. “I wish I had the nerve to ask her to take me for a spin. It looks like such fun, don’t you think?”

  Esme appeared to be so thoroughly shocked, Noelani decided Adam was way off base. “Well, I’d better dash. People are starting to gather and it’s barely nine-forty-five.”

  “Mill workers and field hands arrive in shifts. Normally we do this the weekend before harvest begins. Frankly, I’m surprised Jackson didn’t cancel it altogether.”

  “He said it’s tradition, and workers had begun to grumble. He probably made a wise decision. Happy workers are a lot more productive than unhappy ones.”

  “Yes, but whatever happened to loyalty for loyalty’s sake? That horrid Broderick man who hit me and set our kitchen on fire claims he was getting back at the family because Casey fired him. When our papa ran Bellefontaine, the locals lined up and begged for work. To work at Bellefontaine then meant something.”

  “In Hawaii, cane growers spend huge amounts of time and money in labor negotiations.”

  “It’s a crying shame, and that’s the last I’ll say on the subject.” She lowered her voice. “Lord knows I’d hate to risk another discontented employee overhearing us.”

  “I should go, anyway. Jackson asked someone to spell the band I hired. We’d worked out a deal, but they forgot to tell me they take longer breaks over twelve hours. Speaking of labor problems.” Noelani flashed a grin.

  “Jackson twisted Luc Renault’s arm to fill in. I’ll grant you the boy is brilliant with a saxophone, but…there’s a case where one of our old Creole families had a daughter marry beneath her. Viv’s poor mother is still weeping over her marrying that Cajun.”

  “Viv—she’s Casey’s best friend? I’ve seen them dashing in and out of Wisteria Cottage all week. If marrying beneath her presents a problem, it’s not visible.”

  “Cassandra and Nicholas are choosing colors for a house they’re having built. Viv has a fine eye for design. Too bad she let love blind her.”

  Noelani frowned. “How do you view my mother?”

  “All families have their scandals,” Esme said. “Duke and Jackson, at least, had the good sense not to marry their dalliances. Having you turn up is nothing compared to the people who’ve shown up at the doors of some of our other fine southern families.” She rolled her eyes before marching off, leaving Noelani with her jaw hanging.

  Noelani didn’t know whether to laugh or be furious. Had Esme complimented her or insulted her? In either case, she decided to let it go. She could talk until she was blue in the face and never change the view of a woman as set in her ways as Esme Fontaine. Noelani had learned long ago to choose her battles with care. As her tutu said, some things a body couldn’t change.

  People of all sizes, shapes and skin tones began spilling onto the grounds of Bellefontaine. Many spoke a dialect of French Noelani found enchanting but hard to understand. Those were Acadians, she learned. Or Cajun, which was a more colloquial term. Esme had been right in one sense about Luc Renault. He played a mean saxophone. He could make that alto sax wail and cry like a baby.

  The sun had peaked overhead before Noelani was satisfied the day was going well. She stood at the edge of the crowd, raptly listening to Luc jam with a trumpet player who’d hopped onto the makeshift stage. The two were playing what she heard a man in the crowd refer to as free jazz.

  “There you are.” Jackson dragged her aside. “No one’s seen Casey in over an hour, including Adam and Nick. They’re both over there pulling beer for the second wave of workers.” He kept rising up to scan the crush of people circling the stage. Noelani thought he looked more frazzled today.

  “I saw Casey earlier with Viv. But Viv drove off alone when I went to the house for a new supply of paper products. I let DuPree store them on the porch. He said otherwise folks help themselves to two or three plateloads of food a
t a time. What’s up? You seem on edge.”

  “I am. There’s a problem at the mill. One of the boilers has overheated. I told Marc to take it off line and shut it down. Duke hired the firm who installed the software, but I can’t find their name or number in either the mill office or his files here. I thought Casey might know how to reach them. Dammit, I wasn’t able to raise her at the cottage. Did she go to the fields? She hadn’t planned to.”

  “Is her truck gone?”

  “No. It’s parked under the carport alongside Nick’s car.”

  “If she’d gone to the fields, you’d think she would’ve told Nick.”

  “Yeah. Well, hell. I don’t know what to do. There’s no danger of it blowing up since we shut it down, but it slows production at peak season. And I’d like to be sure the others aren’t going to go flooey, too.”

  “Want me to have a look? I’ve worked with several of the canned programs, and I wrote the one we use to run Shiller’s cookers.”

  Jackson did a double take. “You wrote a program?”

  “Yes, for the vats, and also one to operate our creeper feeder. I hate to brag, but I speeded up crushing our cane by ten percent.”

  “I should’ve known that.”

  “I told Casey. In fact, if you hadn’t been rushing hither and yon these last few weeks, I intended to ask if you needed help at the mill.” Noelani hesitated, then decided to take the bull by the horns. “Actually, I hoped that if I did a good job planning this party, you’d let me pitch in at the mill. I’m not one to sit idle.”

  “I’d like to have someone in the family overseeing the mill. I’m concentrating on the refinery Duke bought, plus trying to keep on top of meetings and the finances. It’s no secret that we’ve had a rash of bad luck lately. I’d…ah, rest easier with someone I trusted on site.”

  “Has there been other trouble at the mill?” Noelani’s ears perked up at the worried inflection in Jackson’s voice.

  “Landlords and growers are grumbling about being told their core samples are too dirty. But I guess they always gripe. Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “Aunt Esme said she had Adam take her favorite rocker up on Casey’s porch. We’ll tell her we’re going to the mill, so she can keep an eye on things here.”

  Adam cornered them before they reached Wisteria Cottage. “Hey, where are you two going in such a hurry? The band’s starting up again. I was just coming to claim a dance, Noelani.”

  Jackson almost ran Adam down. “Afraid that’ll have to wait. Noelani knows something about mill computers. We’re on our way to put Aunt Esme in charge here, then I’m taking Noelani to the mill. Do me a favor, Adam. Tell Nick if he touches base with Casey, to have her meet us there.”

  “Sure. So will you make it back before the party ends?” Adam’s eyes rested briefly on Noelani. His tone reflected his disappointment at having her spirited away.

  “Depends on whether or not Noelani fixes the problem,” Jackson said.

  Adam nodded. “If I knew more than how to operate my own CAD system, I’d offer to lend a hand. Designing cabinets on my laptop is the extent of my know-how.”

  “Well, if Noelani pulls this off, she’s got my undying gratitude.”

  “Stop!” she said. “That’s a surefire way to jinx things before we start. I see Aunt Esme on Casey’s porch where you said. I’ll run and tell her, shall I?”

  Jackson nodded. “And give her the message for Casey in case she returns to the house before she sees Nick.”

  Esme sat in an oversize wicker rocker, holding court on Casey’s wide porch. At least that was the term that came to Noelani’s mind. The older woman even sat regally. As workers came up the broad steps—both men and women— Esme extended the tips of her fingers, as if she were the queen and they her minions. Given what she’d said earlier, Esme probably did fill that lady-of-the-manor role.

  Not inclined to get in line with those waiting to pay homage, Noelani hurried to the end of the porch and up the side steps. Gliding behind Esme, she bent and murmured Jackson’s instructions.

  Esme sneezed several times in a row and fumbled for her lace hankie.

  Noelani noticed she seemed quite flushed and she smelled overwhelmingly of rose talcum powder and hair spray. “Aunt Esme, are you catching a cold?”

  The older woman gazed at Noelani with a kind of beatific expression that suggested she might have sampled her mother’s julep recipe more than was judicious. “It’s too bad you have to leave, child. This is a splendid party. Splendid.” Esme dismissed Noelani with a flip of her pale hand, causing a rainbow flash of gems.

  Nodding, Noelani took a different route back to Jackson. Once again she crossed paths with Adam, who hadn’t yet returned to see Nick.

  “Adam, I spoke with Aunt Esme. I, ah, suspect she’s had too many mint juleps. Or she’s taken a chill. She’s sneezing her head off. Would you mind keeping an eye on things—and on her—while we’re gone? I hate to impose, but…”

  “No problem. As long as you hunt me up when you get back. Even if it’s after the party, okay?”

  “Sure. If you were me, Adam, would you tell Jackson his aunt’s a little tipsy?”

  “Nah. At Casey and Nick’s wedding, she knocked back a few toddies. I think she sneezes when she’s reached her limit. It slows her down because sneezing in public embarrasses her. Esme’s not really a lush. As a rule she drinks tea.”

  “Good. I didn’t know. Thanks, Adam. I see Jackson checking his watch. He’s getting antsy, and I need to change into more appropriate work gear before we can leave.”

  Adam pounded a fist lightly against his heart. “Dammit, woman. Every time you have me drooling over some dress you’re wearing, you manage to dispose of it before I can get you alone.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Ri-ight,” she drawled. “Some things in life just aren’t fair, Adam.” As he smiled, Noelani rejoined Jackson. “Give me a minute to change? I talked to Aunt Esme. And Adam’s promised to watch for any problems.”

  “I guess you do need to put on something you don’t mind messing up. I don’t have to tell you how sticky a mill gets. Oh, and wear tie-on shoes. We’ll be traveling on catwalks.”

  “Where shall we meet? Here?”

  “No. The Jag’s out front. While you’re changing, I’ll track down Tanya and Megan. I want to be sure Megan’s enjoying herself, and that she knows I’m gone.”

  Jackson was a conscientious dad, Noelani thought as she went up to her room. She’d had a few conversations with Megan about her own childhood. During their next talk, she’d tell the girl how lucky she was to have one parent who cared for her welfare.

  Noelani didn’t waste time combing her hair or rechecking her makeup, but simply skimmed off her dress and dived into shorts, sturdy shoes and a T-shirt. Still, Jackson was pacing near the car when she came out. “Sorry. Have you been waiting long?”

  “As a matter of fact, I just got here.”

  “What’s that on your face? Barbecue sauce?”

  He rubbed where she pointed. “Chocolate, from the fistful of chocolate-chip-pecan cookies Megan was chowing down. I told Tanya she absolutely had to make sure those were the last she ate. The kid’ll be up half the night with a stomachache.”

  “They were delicious. I grabbed a couple myself. Betty must’ve made a million.”

  He took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. “It’s the only way she knows how to make cookies. Maman finally had to ask her to bake only for special occasions. She took pride in her figure. Plus she didn’t want Duke to end up paunchy like Roland Dewalt, Shel Prescott and half the other men their age.”

  “Aunt Esme let me leaf through her albums one day last week. Your parents were a handsome couple,” she said wistfully.

  He glanced up sharply as he shot the Jaguar out of the lane onto the main highway. “Duke’s your parent, too,” he reminded her gruffly. “And if you’re at all like your mother, it’s little wonder Duke was swept off his feet.”

  Noelani felt heat pric
kle up her neck. “Thanks. I think Mama was quite beautiful back then. But from my earliest conscious memory of her, she was too thin. She had a slow-growing cancer for which she refused treatment. Maybe living without Duke was more painful than suffering through a ravaging illness. She died when I was thirteen.” Noelani plucked restlessly at her T-shirt.

  “I won’t make excuses for Duke’s behavior. He and I had our disagreements. Like most sons of hard-charging fathers, I could never please my dad. I thought he pushed me too hard. But Roland always put Murray down, which was worse. Murray and I both rebelled for a time. I did some things I’m not particularly proud of. Basically, though, Duke did okay by us. Like I said, Casey thought he hung the moon.”

  “I’m not placing the burden of his sins on you, Jackson. You’re the first one here, outside of Adam, to ask about my mom. People who remember her from when she was young and carefree described a person I honestly never knew. I…guess I’d like you to understand she wasn’t the type to deliberately seduce a married man.”

  “No, probably not, or she wouldn’t have stood silently by all those years. When I first found the letters Duke sent her, which had all come back unopened, I admit I wished to hell I knew what had gone wrong between Duke and Maman. Something, obviously, as I’m a mere three months older than you.”

  “Duke didn’t learn about me right away. From things Bruce Shiller let slip, he notified your father after Anela went into the hospital to deliver. She had a terrible labor. Ultimately the doctor did a cesarean, but she teetered between life and death for several weeks.”

  “That would explain why the letters postdate your birth. There were four in all, and most of them were Duke inquiring about Anela’s health. The date of the last one corresponds with Shelburne’s account of when Duke changed his will and began to pay a monthly stipend via Shiller for Anela’s keep, and yours.”

  “If I’d known, I doubt I’d have come for the property settlement.”

  “Why? It’s nothing more than what you’re due. I’m only sorry the settlement’s turned out to be such a royal pain in the ass. I promise we’ll get it sorted out. Ah, here’s the mill. If you can make heads or tails of the problem, I’ll be indebted to you, Noelani.”