The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  Jackson stopped her. “Megan’s with you all day. It’s important she and I spend some time together, Tanya.” He folded the security system’s schematic and rose. “If we’re all ready, I’ll explain the secret to sneaking in late.” He laughed, but Noelani thought his gaze settled a moment too long on her. She worried that maybe he’d seen her sneaking out of Adam’s garçonnière in the dawn hours.

  But why would that matter? She was an adult and didn’t answer to Jackson or anyone. Her guilt stemmed more from the fact that she hadn’t intended to go to bed with Adam. And when she did, she certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy the experience so much she’d like to repeat it. Therein lay her real concern. As she’d told Adam before leaving his bed, it was pure foolishness for them to form an attachment. But the way he’d gazed at her tonight only showed that he hadn’t listened. And Noelani was awfully afraid she didn’t have what it took to be strong enough for both of them. She’d fallen more than a little for Adam Ross.

  NEXT MORNING, SHE HAD EVERY intention of addressing the subject frankly when they met. But Adam burst out of his garçonnière carrying a picnic basket and wearing a boyish grin that shot her resolve all to hell.

  Her heart remembered how good his lips had tasted. Her hands itched to feel the silky softness of his still-damp hair. And there was the little matter of his birthday gift. She had just the place for it on her office desk, and was taking it there now in her new tote. He couldn’t have chosen anything that would please her more.

  Placing the picnic basket in the bed of his pickup, Adam opened Noelani’s door. “It’s a beautiful day. The weather-man promises it’ll only get to seventy-nine. Perfect picnic weather.”

  She caught his enthusiasm. “I brought clothes to change into. Aunt Esme insisted I wear a dress to the Sugar Fest, as there’ll be other growers’ families present.”

  Adam draped her garment bag over the bench seat. “By chance, is it my favorite red dress?”

  “Sorry, it’s blue.”

  “I like blue. With your skin, you can wear anything and look good. Or nothing,” he added, purposely ducking his head as he started the pickup.

  He’d provided the opening Noelani needed to caution him about their getting involved. In the end she said nothing. It must’ve had something to do with a feeling of enchantment in the air. Something to do with traveling a tree-shaded lane seated next to a drop-dead gorgeous guy, while the morning breeze tangled her hair. If she wasn’t already committed to Shiller’s, Noelani could imagine herself content to stay at Bellefontaine. Whoa! Where did that idea come from?

  They spoke very little on the trip to town. Both seemed comfortable listening to a CD Adam had selected right before they left the house. Celine Dion’s latest. If Noelani thought it an odd choice for a man whose collection consisted mostly of jazz, she wasn’t sufficiently moved to comment. In truth, the love songs added to her mellow mood.

  The album had two songs to go when Adam pulled into the parking lot at the mill. “I’ll be back at twelve sharp. Shall I come up, or would you rather meet me here?”

  “I’ll meet you.” Grabbing her garment bag and her new tote, she hopped out before he could assist her.

  Adam sat with the pickup idling until she disappeared into the noisy mill. Smoke from two tall stacks billowed into the blue sky. Another skinnier one spewed steam. Adam thought Noelani looked small and delicate against that backdrop.

  Six hours had slipped away before he again pulled in between the area where cane trucks unloaded and the mill sat. It surprised him to see Noelani still in her work clothes, gesturing wildly to Jackson and Murray Dewalt.

  Even when Adam walked toward them, loud machinery blocked their voices. As he joined the trio, Noelani acted surprised to see him. “Golly, I had no idea it was so late.”

  “No problem. We aren’t on a set schedule. Jackson. Murray.” Adam reached across Noelani to shake hands with the men. “You all look so grim. Is there trouble in River City?” Adam tried to make his query lighthearted.

  “Maybe.” Noelani’s eyes remained dark and fathomless. “I contacted Jackson around ten. I believe someone deliberately jammed the mud roller, which is an essential step to removing waste from the evaporator,” she told Adam. “I was on normal rounds when I saw a workman pull a crowbar out of the rollers. Even he was baffled. That equipment hasn’t had a work order on it for months.”

  “Sounds to me as if the problem’s remarkably similar to the steel bar you found in the creeper feeders the other night.”

  “Yes,” Noelani murmured. “But when Jackson arrived and questioned the men who work with the evaporator, one insisted he saw me leave the area not ten minutes before the rollers bound up. That would’ve been nine-fifteen. I was in my office until nine-thirty. I remember checking to see if I had time for rounds before meeting you at noon.”

  “So he’s obviously lying.”

  Jackson paced back and forth in front of his maroon Jaguar. “Bobby Castille, who’s positive he saw her, is one of our oldest, most trusted employees.”

  Noelani looked unhappy. “Thing is, Bobby’s Cajun, Adam. And he’s very superstitious and mistrustful. He’s sure I brought the mill bad luck.”

  Murray leaned nonchalantly against Jackson’s sedan. “I don’t know if you recall how superstitious some Cajuns are, Adam. Several workers pulled Jackson aside as we walked through the mill, basically calling Noelani bad mojo.”

  “Hogwash.” Adam whirled to confront Jackson. “Why would you even give credence to anyone’s word over that of your sister?”

  “Half sister,” Murray and Noelani said in unison.

  Jackson’s navy-blue eyes remained locked with Adam’s. “To my knowledge,” he finally said, “the mill’s never experienced labor disputes. Perhaps I made a mistake putting Noelani in as manager.”

  “Just Noelani? Or any woman?” Adam asked. “What if Casey had stepped in? Would they trust her? I think you should ask yourself if what’s happening here is an extension of the recent trouble at Bellefontaine.”

  Jackson raked a hand through hair needing a trim. “You think I haven’t asked myself that? Murray says it’s probably coincidence. Lord knows our equipment’s not new. Maybe someone on the night shift used a crowbar to unjam the rollers. He could’ve set it on a ledge and forgotten it. The vats vibrate. Maybe it fell.”

  “That’s my guess, too,” Noelani said. “Jackson, I already told you any of these incidents could be accidental. I’ll bet if you go back over Duke’s logs, you’ll see similar reports. Removing me will be like saying you believe in bad omens.”

  “You’re right. Next thing you know, someone will be blaming all our trouble on voodoo. Black magic has power in the bayous. I can’t let it catch hold here.”

  Noelani hooked her thumbs in her back pockets. “So, I can run up and change into the dress I brought to wear to the Sugar Fest? And you’ll go in and set Bobby Castille and the others straight about who’s boss?”

  Jackson nodded. He took Noelani’s arm, and the two of them went into the mill, leaving Adam and Murray standing by the Jag.

  “Bellefontaine didn’t have problems until Nick Devlin blew into town. Or should I say paddle-wheeled into Baton Rouge.”

  “Stuff it, Murray!” Adam scowled. “If that’s not sour grapes because Nick got the woman you wanted, I don’t know what is.”

  “I’m merely stating facts,” Murray said curtly. He yanked open the passenger door, climbed into Jackson’s car and slammed it in Adam’s face.

  Adam dismissed Murray’s charge as pure jealousy. Still, he was glad to see Noelani return when she did—before he punched Murray Dewalt in his aristocratic nose.

  Noelani’s royal-blue sundress accentuated her golden skin. From the moment she exited the building, Adam’s mind emptied of everything except her.

  He rushed to relieve her of the garment bag.

  “Do I look all right?” She twirled in a circle.

  “Let me stop drooling long enough to say t
hat if Auntie E finds fault with you now, she’s going blind.”

  Laughing, Noelani linked arms with Adam. The pleased expression he wore more than validated what she’d seen in the tiny office mirror. As a result, her earlier festive mood was restored. Until Adam drove the circle back out to the highway and she felt the whisper of a chill sneak up her spine.

  She hunched to ward off the feeling that someone who disliked her intensely was watching her departure. Glancing out the passenger window, she saw nothing amiss. Two of the core samplers stood in the shade, smoking. Rose and Denise. Noelani would understand if it’d been Sue Ann—she’d pitched a fit over the change in their break schedule. Rose and Denise had seemed to accept it with equanimity.

  As Adam completed the circle, Noelani’s gaze collided with Murray’s. He acted as if he thought Adam might side-swipe Jackson’s car. Other than that, when he noticed Noelani, he smiled. She returned his smile and waved.

  The chill had been so fleeting that once Adam had pulled onto the highway, excitement about the day ahead again filled her with anticipation. She surprised Adam by moving her garment bag and scooting closer to place her hand on his knee. “Hi!”

  The unexpectedness of her action shocked Adam so much his foot slipped off the gas pedal. The pickup slowed dramatically, so he leaned over and kissed her square on her mouth. “Hi, yourself,” he said, smacking his lips loudly enough to make her laugh out loud.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I VOTE WE EAT BEFORE WE GO to the Sugar Fest,” Adam said. “I’m starving, and if we’re asked to help out, the day could get away from us.”

  “That suits me, Adam. I have to admit that picnic basket’s calling to me. Do you know of a park near here?”

  “There’s a jogging path along the river, with benches every so often. I never tire of watching Old Man River roll on.”

  “Oh, please, let’s sit by the river. I haven’t seen much of the Mississippi, except for when I cross the bridge.”

  Adam found a parking place. He carried the basket and handed Noelani two bottles of water he pulled from a cooler. They passed a few joggers as they walked. Adam ultimately settled on a site that looked out beyond a bend in the river. Nick’s White Gold Casino was moored directly across from them. Downtown Baton Rouge provided an interesting skyline along the opposite shore. As they sat down on the bench, a barge chugged upriver, pushing a platform loaded with wooden crates.

  “Did Nick or Casey ever mention if anything came of their interview with that pilot—Chuck Riley?” Adam opened the basket he’d set at their feet and passed Noelani a checkered tablecloth.

  She left it folded in a square and placed it on the bench between them, watching while Adam pulled out containers of fruit, sandwiches and chips. “I asked Casey about Riley. He was so disagreeable. She said he insists Duke owed him money for the hours he flew the plane. But Jackson refuses to pay until he can look at Duke’s trip diary. The authorities are holding it, pending the crash investigation. Is the casino what made you ask about Riley?”

  “Yeah.” Adam offered her a dill pickle, then crunched on one himself. Noelani declined the pickle, but sorted out grapes, sliced apples and melon balls.

  “Do you think Chuck Riley might be behind the mill accidents? I mean, if he’s angry at Duke’s family, maybe he’s striking back. I heard Nick’s banned him from the White Gold.” Adam unwrapped a turkey sandwich and handed Noelani one filled with cucumber, tomatoes and sprouts. The bread was homemade wheat, crusted with pecans and pine nuts.

  Noelani ate a quarter of it, then kicked off her sandals and dug her bare toes into the grass.

  “Be careful doing that,” Adam cautioned. “I don’t know if you have chiggers in Hawaii, but we have a lot of the little suckers here. If you don’t want to itch for a week, put your shoes back on.”

  Dutifully, Noelani obeyed. “I’m not familiar with chiggers. On Maui, we have stinging jellyfish that wash up on our beaches. And a lot of flying insects that bite. The usual bores and fire ants around the cane. Talk about sting! Fire ants can eat you alive. Well, almost.”

  “Noelani, you’re sidestepping my question about Chuck Riley because…?”

  “I’m not ignoring you, Adam. I’m turning your question over in my mind. There’s no doubt that he was angry enough to cause trouble. But mill accessibility is where I see your theory falling down. Our staff knows who belongs on-site. Someone would’ve seen him skulking around and reported it to me.”

  “Yet Bobby what’s-his-name claimed he saw you in a work area when you were actually in your office.”

  “Castille. Bobby Castille. That does puzzle me. On the other hand, if Bobby’s convinced I’m bad mojo, he may have purposely lied in hopes Jackson would get rid of me.”

  “Possibly. But in this part of the South, superstitions aren’t to be taken lightly. Voodoo can be dangerous. A lot of bad people practice the black arts.”

  She laughed nervously. “You’re scaring me, Adam. The river’s nice, but if you’re through eating, I’ll clean up and we can go on to the Sugar Fest.”

  “Sure.” He capped his bottle of water. “My aim wasn’t to frighten you, Noelani. Promise me you’ll stay alert, though.”

  “I promise,” she said solemnly. “I’m not used to having anyone worry about me, Adam. Frankly, it’s nice,” she said, gazing at him through her thick eyelashes.

  Pleased, Adam kicked around the idea of telling her he cared for her a lot, and that was why he worried. But all at once she withdrew, becoming so remote, he decided not to mention it.

  As they walked back to where he’d parked, Noelani abruptly skipped to a new subject. “I almost forgot. Did you hand in your bid today?”

  “No. I’m going to hold on to it for a while. I’ve been so caught up in my plans for Magnolia Manor, I never gave a thought as to what I’d do if someone outbids me.”

  “You knew other people would bid, Adam.”

  “Yes. But before, they didn’t have a name. According to Murray, his dad wants the thirty acres of land where the house sits.”

  “Murray must be mistaken. Thirty acres is a drop in the bucket when it comes to farming. Besides, you said Magnolia Manor is on the historical register.”

  “It is. I did some snooping in the court records and found that Roland’s pecan orchard butts up against the west end of Magnolia Manor’s property line. Thirty added acres of pecan trees could yield him as much as forty thousand dollars a year in profit.”

  “That much?”

  “Afraid so. And a courthouse clerk confided, off the record, that there are a number of reasons to bump old houses off the register. For instance, if there’s so much wood rot it’s not feasible to restore,” he said, stowing the basket while she climbed inside the cab.

  Noelani buckled her seat belt before she said earnestly, “You’re a builder, Adam. You said the house was sound.”

  “What if Dewalt has an inspector in his pocket? He could dummy a report to say the house is falling down. Another thing the clerk said with a wink and a nudge was that I should check the record to see how many old homes have gone up in flames—coincidentally, she said, soon after a new owner buys the place for a song. Apparently if a buyer carries an umbrella insurance policy, any property purchased is automatically covered for the first sixty days.”

  “But that’s insurance fraud!”

  “Right, and how does anyone prove or disprove that? The clerk said it’s usually blamed on homeless people, or on kids out playing with matches.”

  “Adam, that’s awful. I can’t believe an upstanding member of the community, like Dewalt, would stoop so low.”

  “I hope you’re right. Roland may figure he’s getting prime land for a lowball price. Or maybe he thinks the house should be condemned.”

  “In that case, won’t your bid win? I mean, you aren’t planning to lowball.”

  “So much depends on what a court assessor decides Magnolia Manor is worth. But the court isn’t required to post an assessed val
ue before bidding starts. I’m limited by the amount I’ve managed to save. I can’t afford to bring the house up to code if I have to borrow to buy it.”

  “Do you think you have enough saved?” She reached across the seat and clamped a bracing hand over his wrist. “I have some money set aside. But not knowing how much I’ll get out of Bellefontaine, I may need what I have to buy out Bruce.”

  “I wouldn’t take money from you, Noelani. You didn’t even like the house.”

  “I liked it.” Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Only to me, a house is secondary to its land. If you own land capable of growing crops, you’re independent. You never have to depend on anyone else for your livelihood.”

  “Ah. You like being your own woman?” Adam teased.

  Noelani withdrew her hand. “Make fun of me. But take my mom, for instance. If she’d owned land instead of being Bruce’s employee, she’d never have been beholden to Duke Fontaine. And there’s Aunt Esme. Despite all the time and love and effort she’s invested in making Bellefontaine a showplace, technically she owns nothing but the clothes on her back and a few pieces of furniture her parents left her.”

  “She doesn’t seem to mind. In her day, property always passed to a male heir. Jackson may own the house on paper, but as long as he holds on to Bellefontaine, Esme’s assured of a place to live. Duke broke the mold by willing the fields and the business to all three of his kids. If you ask me, he gambled that the three of you wouldn’t split up the operation.”

  “I’d rather not talk about Duke Fontaine. Let’s take Jackson’s role as owner of the house and immediate land. What if he marries someone who hates Aunt Esme? Do you think Jackson—now, I’m picturing a Jackson goofy, slobbering in love—do you think he’d hesitate in shuffling Aunt Esme and Toodles straight off to a retirement home?”

  “First of all, you have an unflattering opinion of what it means to be in love. And until you face up to the fact that Duke Fontaine did his best by you and your mom, you’re not likely to fall in love yourself anytime soon. Do you really think Jackson would be interested in a woman incapable of loving Megan, Aunt Esme and Bellefontaine?”