The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Why don’t you go ahead and eat? While you do, we can talk. By the way, no one mentioned you’d stocked this refrigerator. I wish Betty had told me. I periodically cut the power to this room. Now I’ll know to shut it off for briefer stints.”

  “Betty doesn’t know I put stuff in here. She keeps the smaller refrigerator on the back porch chock-full so there’s no room for anything else. This week I haven’t been home for supper at all, and it seemed easier to keep cheese, peanut butter and salad in here.”

  “You’re subsisting on cheese, peanut butter and salad? Better not get too close to one of those turbines I saw at the mill, or their wind will blow you clean off the catwalk.”

  “Very funny, ha, ha! I eat. I have a canned breakfast drink.” She hauled out a six-pack of thin cans and wagged them at him. “I joined a…a…gym, where I spend my lunch hours working out. But I keep apples and energy bars in my desk.” As she talked, she opened a loaf of whole-wheat bread and removed two slices. Rummaging in her tote, she emerged with a small sandwich spreader and proceeded to spread crunchy peanut butter over each slice. “I usually take the food to my room. Where shall we go? Did you want to talk about something specific?”

  “Like I said, it’s hotter than—well, it’s extra muggy tonight. Normally our temperature cools off by now. This has been a weird fall all over the south. Thank God we’ve had no major hurricanes to add to Bellefontaine’s problems.” He paused and gazed at her with amusement. “How can you eat that gluey stuff without honey or jelly? You don’t even wash it down with milk.”

  “Jelly and honey are too sweet. Water, that’s what I forgot to get out.” She opened the fridge and removed a bottle of water. Then she reached in again for a second one, which she tossed to Adam.

  He caught it neatly.

  “Good reflexes. Let’s stay right here, Adam. The kitchen’s cozy now that the burned smell is gone.” She scanned the area as she hopped up on one of the counters. “These cabinets are going to be great when you finish. I’ll bet no one will be able to tell them from the originals that weren’t damaged. But…I guess you know you do good work.”

  “It’s always nice to hear.” Adam leaned against the opposite counter. After taking a long pull from his water bottle, he dashed a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “I shouldn’t keep you up if you’re planning to head out early again. Maybe there’s nothing for us to discuss if you’re confident the incidents weren’t out of the ordinary.”

  She finished chewing the bite she’d taken, then carefully folded the peanutty sides of the bread together. “I said they could be routine. Monday, Jackson made it clear to everyone that I’m managing the mill for the family. Yet getting anyone to open up about the accidents was like pulling teeth.”

  “The workers resent you, you mean?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t explain, really.” She set her sandwich on a paper towel. “No one purposely distorted facts or denied they were in the area. Both episodes were written up in the daily log. Oh, shoot, I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing. All because I can’t accept that what happened to the computer program last weekend was accidental.”

  “Other than the computer, what exactly has occurred?”

  “A piece of metal jammed the creeper feeder, for one. A huge piece. Uh…are you familiar with how the feeders operate?”

  “Only what I saw the other afternoon as I walked through the mill. Jackson directed me through a veritable maze, but no one explained the equipment.”

  “The device I’m talking about moves billets of cane through the washing and shredding process. It’s not uncommon for the field cane to carry in rocks or small branches. But this was an inch-thick, two-foot-long piece of steel. It could’ve done a lot more damage than it did. Especially as I’d been testing my program to speed up the feeders. It so happened I’d returned the creeper feeders to the old program before I left for home, so they were running slower.”

  “Anyone act unhappy about your tests…?” Adam’s voice trailed away as his eyes paused on Noelani’s mouth. The way she licked peanut butter from the sides of her sandwich had begun to have an effect on him. Afraid Noelani would notice, he shifted from one hip to the other, very aware that the thin shorts he wore hid nothing of his wayward thoughts.

  Or she might notice if she was paying any attention to him. But unlike his, Noelani’s attention seemed to be entirely on her work. In contrast, Adam found it next to impossible to concentrate on what she was saying.

  She stopped licking the oozing peanut butter. “No one grumbled within my hearing. It’s one woman’s job to sit up in a crow’s nest and spot debris. Duke had four people covering two shifts, because it’s so boring sitting there staring at cane for eight-hour stretches. The woman whose shift it was has worked the same job for ten years.”

  “Are you going to eat that food or play with it?” Adam growled. “If you’re just going to play with it, for God’s sake, throw it away.”

  “Wh-what? Oh, sorry. It’s a really bad habit, isn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “No. Don’t listen to me, Noelani. It’s my reactions that are bad. I envisioned you doing other…things with your tongue. Sorta got to me.”

  “Adam!”

  “Can’t help it, sugar pie. That’s how men are. Our brains are connected directly to the male part of our anatomy. Don’t you ever just…fool around?”

  “Not if by fool around you mean what I think you mean. In college, everyone I knew slept with a bunch of different guys. I felt totally out of step.”

  He leaned his elbows on the counter alongside where she sat and stared at her. “Are you trying to tell me you have no experience with, uh, you know…sex?”

  “Huh? Oh, no.” She jumped off the counter and made a production of looking in the fridge again. Mostly to cool the heat suffusing her face. “I, ah, had a couple of not-so-hot experiences. I’ve decided some people aren’t made for it.”

  Bent over the way she was, with her worn jeans clinging to every inch of her long legs, and a half moon of soft skin showing at her waist where her T-shirt had slipped out of her jeans, Adam thought he’d never seen a woman more made for sex. Unless he wasn’t a good judge. Maybe he was simply horny from doing without for so long. He’d enjoyed his fair share of women in college, but afterward, work had taken precedence. Even he found it hard to believe how fixated he’d been on building his business. He’d hate to think he wanted to have sex with Noelani for no other reason than her proximity, or because she was the first woman to attract his interest in more years than he cared to count.

  Thrusting out his chin, Adam massaged the tight cords running up one side of his neck. “There’s no need for you to crawl into the ice box to get away from me. I’d argue with your assessment of yourself, but Mama taught me to respect a lady’s wishes, so you can relax. I’m not going to pounce on you, Noelani.”

  She slammed the refrigerator shut. “I never thought you were, Adam.”

  “Well, good. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what we were talking about. Want to walk in the moonlight and take another stab at it?”

  “It’s very late, and as you pointed out, extremely hot and muggy. Both of us are going to be rummy in the morning if we don’t get a few hours’ sleep. Nothing really happened at the mill. So it won’t help for us to rehash a few minor glitches. Particularly since you don’t know how a mill operates. Shall I turn off the light on my way out, or will you?”

  “I will. As long as I’m here and having trouble sleeping, anyhow, I may do some hand-sanding on the cabinet doors.”

  Noelani tossed the remains of her sandwich, gathered her tote and her water bottle. At the door leading to the interior of the house, she hesitated. “Tomorrow’s Friday. Are we still on for the Sugar Fest on Sunday?”

  “Oh, I meant to tell you. Jackson would like us to go on Saturday, instead. Casey opted out, as you know. Jackson decided to take Aunt Esme, Megan and Tanya on Sunday. He said it’d be better if Bellefontaine’
s represented both days.”

  “Did he say it was okay for me to miss a day at the mill?”

  “Not in so many words. But you can’t be in two places at once, and he made it clear he’d like you to be at the Sugar Fest on Saturday.”

  “Huh. Okay. What time?”

  “Here’s my thought. I have an early-morning meeting in Baton Rouge with a sub-contractor. If it’s okay with you, I’ll give you a lift to the mill and pick you up at noon. That way you’ll get in a half-day’s work.”

  “I can live with that. But Adam, if changing to Saturday puts you in a bind, I can drive there by myself.”

  “I want to take you, Noelani. Damn, you’re a difficult woman to date, you know that?”

  “Date? No…I—” She averted her eyes, marshaling her thoughts and her words, but she wasn’t quite able to kill her frown. “Good night, Adam. If I don’t see you between now and then, I’ll see you early on Saturday.”

  Noelani didn’t know how to take Adam Ross. One minute he spoke plainly and directly about wanting more than a simple date. Just as fast, he reversed and pulled completely away from her. She hadn’t imagined the distance he’d put between them a while ago; she was sure of it. Yet, when she’d tried to give him a graceful out, he’d called her difficult.

  But how could she blame him when she ran hot and cold and hot again? Her problem—she enjoyed spending time with Adam. She enjoyed simply looking at him. And tonight, half dressed and rumpled from his bed, he’d taken her breath away.

  From the outset, the man set wild fires licking through her body. But the logic she’d told him she possessed kept intruding. Part of her recognized the futility of forming a romantic attachment with someone whose goals and objectives tied him to a part of the country she couldn’t wait to leave. Once in while, like tonight, she felt so homesick for Maui, she honestly didn’t know if she’d be able to stick it out here for the length of time she’d told Jackson she would stay.

  ADAM WRAPPED A PIECE of the finest-grade sandpaper around a block of wood and started lightly sanding a cabinet door he’d placed between two sawhorses. Working with wood had become his escape. Coaxing the beauty from a particular grain usually let him blank his mind of all worries and troubles. Over the years there had been many. This mood had settled over him when he’d turned the calendar and discovered tomorrow was the day he’d scheduled to visit his mother. Her doctor had suggested a regular schedule for visits. In the beginning, Adam went twice a week. Then once a week, which later shrank to twice a month. At first her team of psychiatrists had given him reason to hope she’d fully recover. As the years dragged on, and the likelihood of finding his father dimmed, so, too, had his mother’s mental state declined.

  He blew off the wood dust and smoothed a hand over the oak. Adam was strongly tempted to go up and knock on Noelani’s door. If he asked nicely, would she come back downstairs and keep him company? Just to talk. Nothing more. He’d been a jerk to hint at more. He’d frightened her—the very last thing he wanted.

  His sleeplessness, his need to be close to someone tonight, was all tied in with seeing his mom sometime the next day. And it probably had something to do with tomorrow being opening day for submitting sealed bids on Magnolia Manor.

  Adam stared at his hands, usually so steady. Just now they weren’t. He set the sandpaper block aside. Dusting off his hands, his shorts and then his bare legs, he left the room and slowly climbed the stairs.

  At the top, he tiptoed across the hall and knocked softly on Noelani’s bedroom door. If she didn’t answer, he’d go back to the garçonnière, get dressed and go for a drive. If she did answer, that would be something to consider, too.

  The door opened a crack. “Adam?” The crack widened. “Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Noelani asked in a whisper.

  “I…no, I didn’t hurt myself. I shouldn’t have come up here and bothered you. It’s…do you ever have nights when you just can’t sleep?”

  She heard a hesitation, a tremor in his voice she didn’t recall ever hearing before. Adam’s voice, a rich baritone, always sounded sure, decisive and upbeat. This time she definitely noticed something else.

  “I haven’t changed into my pajamas yet. As a rule I don’t have trouble falling asleep. Guess I’m keyed up tonight, too. You aren’t exactly dressed for a walk through the cane, but listening to the rush of wind through the rows generally relaxes me.”

  “Like I said, it’s hot tonight. I’ve never been around cane. Music relaxes me. Jazz, in particular.”

  “Oh. I don’t even have a radio in my room. Sorry.”

  “I’ve got a CD system set up in the garçonnière. I travel pretty light, but music is one thing I take to every job site.”

  She opened the door wider, slipped out and closed it softly behind her. “I’ve never seen the inside of a garçonnière. Since we’re both wide awake, you may as well give me the grand tour.”

  “It’s functional. Primitive by today’s standards. That may be why I like it.”

  They talked in low voices as she advanced ahead of him down the stairs. “I remember thinking it unfair when Aunt Esme said garçonnières were bachelor quarters for the teenage sons of plantation owners. Sons had the freedom to come and go at an early age, while girls were often sent to convents. Or lockup wards, which is what I’d call them.”

  Outside now in the sultry darkness, with only the moon and the carriage lamps to light their way, Noelani missed the eyebrow Adam spiked upward. “They’re schools, not prisons. Many young southern women still attend all-girl Catholic schools. I’m not sure if Casey went to one, but her friend Viv did. The old Creole families still place a huge importance on old-world manners. A number of people in the neighborhood where I grew up also preferred private religious schooling for boys as well as girls. Not only for the education, but because the nuns drilled social skills into the students.”

  Noelani stepped aside and let Adam open the door to his quarters. If she hadn’t been so interested in what they were discussing, she might have felt a ripple of apprehension at walking into what could be his bedroom. “Are you Catholic?”

  “Not practicing, but technically, yes. Thanks to the Spanish and French influence, Louisiana is largely Catholic.”

  “People tend to think of Hawaiians as pagans. Actually, we’re an eclectic mix. My grandmother was Buddhist, but my mother never adhered to the faith. As a result, I’m sort of in religious limbo.” She blinked as they moved inside, then glanced at Adam to see how he’d reacted to her news. Clearly, it didn’t seem to matter one way or the other to him.

  “This is it, Noelani. There’s not much to see.”

  She studied the room. Wood-paneled walls, a beige carpet, indirect lighting from old-style wall sconces gave the space a warm feel. Modern touches, like a futon couch, a TV, stereo system and a counter with a microwave, reminded Noelani of her duplex at home. “What’s upstairs?”

  “The rudiments of a bedroom and a remodeled bath. A shower stall. I’m sure it was added without consulting the historical society. There’s a half bath off this room.”

  Spotting a corner fireplace flanked by full-length bookcases, Noelani crossed the room.

  “The fireplaces here and in the main house look like marble. It’s really hand-polished cypress,” Adam said.

  “This is wood?” She ran her fingers over the shiny surface; it still seemed like stone. “Well, it’s not cool like marble, though, is it?”

  He laughed. “It’s wood, all right. What’s your pleasure in music?”

  “Anything that suits your fancy.” She leaned in to read the titles of the books. There were old and new ones. Hard-covers and paperbacks. Mysteries, thrillers, spy stories, mixed in with nonfiction, mostly popular history. Two entire rows of books were devoted to architecture, mostly architecture in the deep South. “Do all the books on these shelves belong to you, Adam?”

  He turned from where he knelt, adjusting the volume of a tiered sound system. The room w
as suddenly filled with the mournful wail of a muted saxophone, joined with the layered rhythms of snare drum and piano. “The stuff on the top shelves was here when I moved in. The rest are mine. Remember I told you I’m an insomniac?”

  “You also said you travel from job site to job site. This is a lot of stuff to lug around. Why don’t you visit the local libraries instead?”

  “Most people want to know why I rent as I go and don’t own a home somewhere in one location where I can store all my junk.”

  “That’s easy.” She trailed a finger along the tops of the books. “Two reasons, I think. You like having solid, tangible things around you. And you’ve been saving a long time to purchase your family home. So why waste money making payments and paying taxes on another place when money in the bank earns compound interest?”

  “You do understand.” Rising, he crossed to where she stood and simply stared deep into her eyes, which had softened to a dark caramel color in the yellow lamplight. “The other night when we drove by Magnolia Manor, I was positive you didn’t have a clue what I felt for that old house.”

  She lifted a hand and laid it against his bare, warm chest. The music seemed to fill her head and whisper along her bloodstream. “The house. Is that why you’re edgy tonight? You put in a bid?”

  Adam covered her hand with his. “Tomorrow, maybe. The bidding process opens then. They’ll accept bids for thirty days.”

  She’d held her last breath, and now let it out slowly. “Your chances are excellent, aren’t they? You’ve worked on similar homes for years. Who better to know their value?”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself. But it all boils down to dollars and cents. Well, dollars. The information I picked up at the courthouse says the winning bid has to be one full dollar over the next highest figure submitted. It goes without saying that the forms have to be filled out correctly. I’ve seen contractors lose bids because they missed something as simple as checking a box.”

  “Will there be a lot of competition?” Noelani found it difficult to believe a lot of people would want a home in need of a major overhaul, particularly since it had no land attached. That was really her problem with Adam’s plan. Land—plantable soil—meant everything to her. Houses weren’t a waste, exactly, but…