The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  Casey rose and walked to the porch steps with Adam. “I read a notice in last night’s paper that the bids on Magnolia Manor open today. Is yours prepared?”

  “Yes, but I’m thinking of hanging on to it until I do some more up-to-date real estate analysis. I only have one shot at naming the right price. I’d hate to underbid by a few bucks.”

  “Sealed bids are a crapshoot,” Nick warned. “You know what I think, Adam? Go with your gut feeling. Submit the amount you can afford and forget it.”

  Casey turned an appraising gaze on her husband. “That’s all well and good, Nick, unless some court clerk sneaks a peek at the bids and then feeds the information to a bidder who may pay under the table for such a tip.”

  “I swear, Casey, I’ve never met anyone as paranoid as you.”

  Adam thumbed his lips thoughtfully. “Sadly, Casey may be right. Which is why I’m leaning toward turning my bid in at the eleventh hour.”

  “What bid?” None of them had seen Murray Dewalt enter the screened porch from the side. He helped himself to coffee before joining them at the steps. Casey, uneasy around him since the day he’d shocked her by proposing she marry him instead of Nick, deftly put Nick and Adam between herself and her one-time best friend.

  Adam would’ve been inclined to say it was none of Murray’s business, and even Nick glowered. Casey, though, brought their neighbor up to date. “When we were kids, Adam’s family owned Magnolia Manor. It’s about a mile down River Road, closer to your plantation, Mur. The estate’s going up for sale via sealed bids, starting today.”

  “You’re that Ross?” Murray took a second look at Adam. “I never connected you with a local family. Jackson said you’d come down from Natchez. Did you used to hang out with a bunch of kids who rode bikes through my dad’s cane rows?”

  “Probably,” Adam admitted with a shrug.

  “My dad had fits over you guys popping wheelies in front of our cane trucks. So did Duke, now that I think about it. They just knew one of you would get hurt or killed and then your folks would sue us.”

  “I’m afraid my carefree days ended when I was twelve. I only rode my bike to deliver newspapers after that. To help put food on the table,” he added, intentionally pointing out the difference in their circumstances.

  Murray carelessly hiked a shoulder. “I lost touch with everyone except Jackson and Casey after dear old dad shipped me off to boarding school.” He turned to Casey. “Most of those neighbors moved on after the big hurricane wiped out our crops. Duke cut fifty percent of the mill’s workforce and my dad did the same at the refinery. All the plantations laid off field hands. Growers’ kids cut and hauled their own cane. Man, I hated that job.”

  “You and Jackson griped, but I always loved working in the cane,” Casey said.

  Adam tried again to leave, but Murray’s next statement affixed weights to his feet. “Good luck on your bid, Adam. You’ll be going up against my dad.”

  “What? Why would Roland want another house? And with the work the place needs, it wouldn’t pay to make Magnolia Manor a rental.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t want the house. In fact, he said he’ll tear it down. He wants the thirty acres for a new pecan orchard.”

  “Magnolia Manor’s on the historical register.” Adam didn’t try to contain his anger at the very idea of demolishing the house. “You must have it confused with some other property.”

  “No. Dad called it by name.”

  Adam tossed out his coffee and stormed down the steps. By God, he’d check to make sure it was still on the register. In Natchez, he’d seen a case where the wrong physical coordinates were put on a court manifest. A historic home was torn down before the mix-up could be resolved. If dozers razed Magnolia Manor, Adam vowed it’d be over his dead body.

  His mood had soured, and he still had to visit his mother.

  THAT EVENING, THE MASSIVE dining table had been set to include all family and household staff. Once those present had claimed their spots—except for Noelani, who hadn’t yet shown up—Adam noticed there was an extra place setting. “Besides Noelani, who’s missing?”

  “Murray.” Jackson glanced up from a drawing Megan was doing. “He’s in and out of here more often than Casey and Nick. I want him to be aware of the security.”

  “He’s like his father when it comes to tardiness,” Esme said, sighing. “We could’ve extended the cocktail hour rather than sit here twiddling our thumbs.” She bent and patted the velvet pillow under her chair. Toodles scampered over from Betty’s chair, where he’d been begging for a handout. At Esme’s command the schnauzer dropped his head between his paws, looking contrite as he licked his chops.

  “Betty, I’ve asked you repeatedly not to let Toodles snack on table food. It’s obvious you don’t heed a word I say.”

  “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black, what is? At least I just give him meat. You sneak him sweets, for crying out loud.”

  Esme flushed all the way to her newly colored roots.

  Jackson interrupted his aunt before she could snipe back. “I hear the Caddy. That engine is so distinctive. Are we sure Murray’s coming?”

  Casey made a face. “Murray never turns down a free meal. Especially not since Roland fired their cook.”

  Esme swung round. “Roland fired Mary Louise Chastain? Mercy, why she’s an institution! Furthermore, she’s the one who kept that household from ruin.”

  “You didn’t know Roland let her go?” Casey sounded surprised. “You’ll have to ask Murray when it happened, exactly. It’s been a while—I think around the time Duke and Maman left on their trip. I only recall the timing vaguely because I had a lot on my mind, what with Duke insisting I fill a notebook with everything he wanted done—stuff I’d already been doing. Murray was underfoot griping about how Roland’s temper was making him go hungry. I’m sure Murray will tell you I was less than sympathetic.”

  The door from the back porch swung inward. Noelani skidded across the polished dining room floor on bare feet.

  “Noelani, where on earth are your shoes?” Esme scowled. “A lady never comes to supper barefoot.”

  Before Noelani could answer, all eyes swung to the man waltzing in behind her. Murray had obviously heard Casey, because as he passed her, he gave her ponytail a yank. “It’s no secret that you’re a hardhearted woman, Casey Fontaine.”

  “She’s Devlin now,” Nick said coolly, but Murray paid no attention.

  Instead, he asked, “What did I do this time? Am I being raked over the coals for showing up late? Here I thought that since I ran into Noelani outside, I’d be safe from Esme’s usual lecture.”

  Esme gazed on him with the same indulgence she reserved for Megan. “Cassandra said Roland let Mary Louise go. I wish we’d hired her,” she said, plainly to needle Betty.

  Betty returned the fire and Noelani grabbed the opportunity to slip into the chair next to Tanya. She almost broke her neck to avoid sitting beside Adam, which didn’t escape him. After the night they’d shared, he was more hurt than irritated.

  Noelani spoke directly to Jackson. “Sorry I missed your phone call—and sorry I’m late. I’d taken printouts of today’s core samples upstairs and stayed to tour the lab. They have a neat setup. The microscopes your techs use are superior to Shiller’s, but I think our lab is freer of contaminants.”

  “Really?” She’d garnered Jackson’s attention.

  “Yes. Are you aware the ladies from your sample room go all the way upstairs to have their break with the techs? They don’t wash first or put on smocks. I’m unpopular at the moment. I said the techs can’t play host to every Tom, Dick and Jane who’d rather eat where it’s quiet. That’s their excuse—they claim the break room is too noisy. Do you know if Duke set rules that are being broken or ignored? Or did he let workers do as they please?”

  Jackson tapped Casey’s shoulder. “Do you know, sis?”

  “Nope. My responsibility ends with planting, cutting and loading our cane. Duke handled
everything to do with the mill.”

  “There you have it, Noelani. Notify me if you give anyone the heave-ho. Otherwise, the mill operation is your bailiwick.”

  “Jackson, that puts her squarely in the line of fire of anyone perpetrating mischief at the mill,” Adam said.

  “I realize you came onboard at a dicey time, Adam, what with the arson and the stolen harvester. But I can’t see people who’ve worked for us for years going postal just because Noelani makes them switch where they eat.”

  “I agree.” Noelani darted a mind-your-own-business glare at Adam.

  Aunt Esme rapped her knife blade on her crystal wine goblet, making it ring. “We don’t discuss work at supper. In fact, this is a celebration supper to wish Noelani a happy birthday!” Everyone sang as Betty appeared, carrying a flaming cake.

  Noelani gasped aloud. And Megan hopped around excitedly. “Blow out the candles, Noelani! Hurry. Make a wish.”

  Noelani clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes glossed with tears as almost everyone at the table magically produced wrapped gifts and set them in front of her. At Megan’s insistence, she mustered breath enough to blow out the twenty-eight candles in one long puff. “Betty, that cake looks wonderful. Did you make it yourself?”

  “Anyone can make a cake,” Esme said. “It’s for after supper. But go ahead and open your gifts now.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Noelani fussed over the prettily wrapped packages. “Being an only kid, I’ve never had so many gifts at my birthday. I was prepared for no notice at all.” Her happy smile said how pleased she was to be wrong.

  “Around here, we tear packages open without a lot of talk,” Casey said.

  So, Noelani ripped into Casey’s package first. She and Nick had given Noelani a red silk blouse. “You said red was your favorite color,” Casey mumbled.

  “It is. The blouse is beautiful. Thank you so much.” She blotted away tears.

  Jackson and Megan’s package produced a flowered tote. “Megan noticed your old one’s wearing thin,” Jackson said offhandedly.

  Slipping out of her seat, Noelani caught Megan close and gave her a big smoochy kiss. Before sitting again, she hugged Jackson, Casey and Nick.

  Esme’s offering was a book of historic southern homes. “I’ll cherish it,” Noelani declared. To her surprise and delight, Tanya gave her a CD by a local jazz artist.

  “Someone should’ve told me it was Noelani’s birthday,” Murray complained.

  “We realized it sort of last minute,” Jackson said. “Sorry, buddy. Next time, okay?”

  Noelani had gone quiet as she traced a finger over the foil paper of the last gift. A label simply read From Adam. “Can I help open that one?” Megan asked. Noelani pulled the child onto her lap and let her untie the satin ribbon. Inside bubble wrap, they unearthed a clear glass paperweight shaped like a pineapple. Noelani held it aloft for all to admire, then turned teary eyes toward Adam. Her soft thank-you hung on trembling lips.

  Betty clapped her hands. “Supper’s ready. You can celebrate more later. I’ll remove the candles from the cake. Meanwhile, here’s a spinach soufflé I made specially in honor of Noelani. Eat up, folks, or it’ll get cold and fall.”

  They all laughed and joked as they dipped into the fluffy casserole. Noelani gathered the warm feelings about her like a mantle. She felt—included.

  After the soufflé and a salad that included chicken, pecans and chunks of sweet potato in a garlicky dressing, Betty brought the cake in again. Noelani cut generous pieces. When everyone had a slice, Esme again struck her water glass to gain everyone’s attention. “Jackson or Casey, I suppose, you’d better explain our new state-of-the-art watch-dog. It’s nearly time for a program I want to see on the Home and Garden channel. Could we get this over with? I’d like to take my cake and coffee upstairs.”

  Eating stopped as Casey produced booklets and plastic cards she passed out to all family members. “The cards open the main gate after it locks at 11:00 p.m. Don’t lose it and don’t lend it. We’ve installed a voice phone at the entry for delivery people or guests. Betty, Tanya and Adam, you have temporary codes you’ll have to key in.”

  “Does that include me?” Murray queried, sounding grumpier than he had over being left out of the party plans.

  “Sorry, Murray, but no,” Jackson interjected. “Art Rafferty, who built the system, recommended restricting use of gate codes to those living on the premises. In fact, he insisted on it. However, I wanted you to be aware of this new system, since you’re over here a lot.”

  “I’m practically family! More so than Adam. He’s merely an employee.”

  “At the moment, Adam lives at Bellefontaine.”

  Clearly disgruntled, Murray slumped and crossed his arms.

  “How will this affect people who pay to take the Historical Society’s tour of homes in December?” Aunt Esme asked.

  Jackson smiled. “It’ll make them conform to the hours set in the Society’s brochure. The ones who show up outside the hours listed always irritate you, Auntie E.”

  “Because they’re rude and so often pushy. I…suppose you’re right.” She finally capitulated with a small expulsion of breath.

  “Is there anything special I need to do if I come in late, as I did last night?” Noelani put the question to Jackson, taking care to avoid looking at Adam. “From work,” she hastily added.

  Jackson swung toward her. “What time did you get in last night?”

  Exceedingly flustered, Noelani stammered a bit, then mumbled, “Af-ter midnight.”

  “Midnight, huh? Well, there’ll be those occasions for everyone. Tanya’s class sometimes visits nightclubs so students can report on jazz artists. Those nights, she’ll key in. If you’re ready, and if Murray’s taking off now, I’ll demonstrate the keypad.”

  Murray pushed back his chair. “What was the point of inviting me over for this enlightening bit of nothing? I get the message.” He aimed his glare at Casey. “From here on out, I’ll call before I drop by. If I drop by. Excuse me…” He stalked toward the door.

  “Murray, as our nearest neighbor—and someone who saw the fire—I thought you of all people would understand our need for security,” Jackson said.

  “I don’t. I agree with Esme. If you feel you need a watch-dog, buy Dobermans. They’re friendlier than locking out your true friends.” They all winced as the screen door banged shut behind him.

  “Whew! He’s pissed,” Nick muttered.

  Jackson rubbed his chin. “Poor Murray. His mom died when he was seven,” he said, obviously for Noelani’s benefit. “Since then, he’s run in and out of Bellefontaine like he lives here. I asked Art about giving him free access, and he strongly advised against it.”

  “Is Art aware it was Murray and Roland who assisted us the night of the fire? Well, Murray did, anyway. I can’t say Roland did much but get in the way. He’s useless in a crisis,” Casey said, turning to Noelani.

  “The man is rude. I met him at the bank one day when I drove Aunt Esme to town. I don’t know that I’d want him having access. While Aunt Esme was tending to business. Dewalt waltzed up to me and made an uncalled-for remark about Duke and my mother.”

  Aunt Esme handed Tanya some empty plates to carry to the kitchen. “He finally felt vindicated by publicly pointing out Duke’s indiscretion. I explained to Noelani how insanely infatuated Roland was from the moment he set eyes on Angelique.”

  “That wasn’t exactly yesterday,” Noelani said, flipping back her hair. “Considering how he behaved toward you, Aunt Esme, he had some nerve acting as if Duke had committed a mortal sin.”

  Esme touched her lips with her napkin. “I’d be the last person to stand up for Roland, but his rivalry with Duke goes back to their boyhood. It was always a game of one-upmanship with them. When it comes down to it, they’re neither one a saint.”

  “Enough.” Jackson dipped an eyebrow toward Megan, who took everything in. “I’m going to an Elks breakfast tomorrow, and I’m gi
ving Murray a lift. Five will get you ten, he’ll be over his snit by morning.”

  Adam waited until after talk of the Dewalts had died. “Auntie E, tomorrow Noelani and I are going to the Sugar Fest. Do you need us to deliver anything? We’ll be leaving the house early, since Noelani’s working till noon and I’m meeting a subcontractor in town.”

  “I’m glad you jogged my memory, Adam. The museum director gave me name tags for everyone. When I go upstairs to watch my program, I’ll tuck an envelope with your tags under Noelani’s bedroom door. Since you’re representatives of Bellefontaine, the director may ask you to help in some manner.”

  Noelani bobbed her head. “I don’t mind. But Adam, if you’d rather not get roped into some boring chore, I can go alone.” She’d suggested this before, and wondered if she sounded too…eager.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve been roped in. I doubt it’ll be the last.”

  “Uh…fine, then. Jackson, I hate to rush you but could you explain the keypad? I planned on going back to the mill. Aunt Esme, that’s what I started to say…before all of this.” She indicated the gifts she’d carefully stacked. “I left my boots on the stoop because I accidentally stepped in a puddle of molasses.”

  Esme looked aghast. “You ought not to have cut your arrival time so close, child. How long has it been since you put in an appearance at our cocktail hour?”

  “Sorry. I’ve been tied up at the mill.”

  Jackson intervened before Esme could respond. “No need to apologize, Noelani. It’s just that Auntie E remembers life at Bellefontaine when people weren’t so busy and moved at a slower pace.” He tugged one of Megan’s curls. “Speaking of busy—honey, after we finish our cake, run and get your bike helmet. Daddy will take you for a ride along the river.”

  The child’s eyes glowed excitedly.

  “That sounds like fun.” Tanya beamed at Jackson. “Darn, I’m signed up for one of those pub crawls you mentioned earlier. I don’t mind skipping it, though.”