The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Sorry, but I never saw Casey. I left the house early. Jackson, Nick and I met at the mill, then went on to breakfast. I came straight here from the restaurant.”

  “It’s okay. A stretched out T-shirt is the least of my concerns. Walking’s a bigger chore because my balance is off.”

  “Jackson took my pickup and gave me his car. He thought it’d be easier for you to slide into the Jag.”

  “That was nice of him. Did you guys find out anything at the mill?”

  “Nothing. We concluded it must’ve been a freak accident.”

  “I know what I heard and what I felt, Adam. I was pushed.” She spoke with such conviction, she drew glances from nearby nurses.

  “They’re waiting to release you,” he said patiently.

  “You think I imagined the whole thing, but I didn’t.”

  Adam let the subject drop. While she signed release forms, he excused himself to bring the car to the patient-loading area. He waited beside it until a nurse wheeled Noelani out. Careful not to bump her bandaged arm, Adam assisted her into the low-slung car. “Thanks,” he told the nurse as she turned to leave.

  “Do you need anything before we head out of town?” he asked Noelani. “Did the doctor give you a prescription?”

  She’d leaned back with her eyes closed. Now she opened them and tried to focus on Adam. “Something for pain. A nurse had me take a pill already. I think that’s why I’m woozy. I hate how painkillers make me feel. I don’t think I’ll fill the prescription. It’s only a hairline crack of my collarbone.”

  “You should probably get the pills, Noelani. Then you’ll have them if you do need something to take the edge off. You fell quite a distance and hit the ground hard.”

  “You’re right.” She tried to reach for her purse, but let out a yelp as the seat belt tightened around her injured shoulder.

  “Here, let me get that. Dammit, you don’t always have to be Miss Independent. It won’t kill you to ask for help on occasion.”

  “I know. I’m just so used to doing everything for myself. The prescription’s in my purse. Thanks, Adam. I’m feeling rockier now than I did earlier.”

  “Try to nap. I’ll take this to the drugstore.” He brandished the prescription. “Jackson’s gone to a meeting at the courthouse. It’s over at one-thirty. I’ll phone and ask him to pick this up on his way home so you won’t have to wait around now.”

  “Courthouse? Oh, did you turn in your bid?”

  “Damn, it slipped my mind completely. Yesterday I decided to quit stalling. I’d planned to submit the forms today. But then Casey raced into the house like a wild woman looking for Jackson and said you’d fallen. That’s the last I thought of my bid.”

  “Isn’t time getting short?”

  “One more week. I’m still debating how high to go. Which is dumb. I can only bid what I can afford to shell out in cash. That’s rule number one.”

  “When you phone Jackson, have him flirt a little with the courthouse clerks. I realize the bids remain sealed until the deadline, but maybe one of the women overheard figures being mentioned.”

  “Jackson will probably tell me to do my own flirting. Then again…I may suggest he give it a whirl. What have I got to lose?”

  She closed her eyes again and might even have drifted into sleep. She jolted awake when Adam returned after dropping off her prescription. “I reached Jackson. He’s happy to pick up your medicine. He’s also agreed to chat with a clerk he knows. For all the good it’ll do. Roland Dewalt isn’t going to tell a lowly clerk what he bid.”

  “Get Jackson to pump Murray. I gather there’s no love lost between him and his dad. At the Sugar Fete, I came away with the distinct impression that Murray had more respect for Duke Fontaine than for Roland.”

  “About the Sugar Fete, Noelani…”

  She abruptly turned her head away from him.

  “We need to talk,” he insisted. “All last week I tried to make sure our paths crossed. But you whirled in and out of the house like a phantom.”

  “You’re a free agent, Adam. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  “I do. I tried to explain already. The truth is, Denise is just someone I knew as a kid.” He paused. “Listen, I bought tickets to Luc Renault’s concert in the park this coming weekend. I’d intended to invite you. But the way you’re trussed up, I guess sitting on the ground for several hours is the last thing you’d want to do.”

  A wary expression entered her eyes. “Is Denise busy?”

  “Damn it, Noelani! As a matter of fact, she asked me to go with her and I said no. She invited me to the Sugar Fete, too. That’s the only reason I went with her. She stopped me at the hardware store, and at first I didn’t even remember her. She reminded me that we’d gone to elementary school together, and that her folks had fallen on hard times the same year my dad went MIA. She thinks that gives us a lot in common.”

  “You had fun at the festival, didn’t you?”

  “Truthfully? No. All I thought about was you. I left her with friends and went to ask you for a dance. But you’d gone.”

  “Probably just as well. The last time we danced…”

  “Was pretty damned fantastic,” he said, finishing for her.

  “Uh…putting that aside, if you and Denise both lost your homes during childhood, I’d consider that a solid connection.”

  “Magnolia Manor holds good memories for me. Denise doesn’t seem to have a lot of those as far as I can tell. We may share similar losses, but our assumptions about life are different. I can’t explain it more clearly than that, Noelani.”

  “I do understand. You feel about Magnolia Manor the way I do about Shiller’s. For you, success or failure is tied to a house. For me, it’s the cane. I guess our dreams come from a similar source. Something in here.” She rested a hand over her heart.

  “I don’t think I’d consider myself a failure if I don’t get Magnolia Manor.” Adam shrugged.

  “You will. Magnolia Manor offers closure to a portion of your past you can’t resolve. Be honest, Adam. Nothing means more to you than that house. You need it to prove you can do what your father couldn’t—make a safe haven for your family. A place he can come back to if he ever does return.”

  Adam slowed to make the corner into Bellefontaine. Her relentless probing made him uncomfortable. Perhaps he was trying to prove to an absent father that he could rebuild the Ross standing in the community. A standing tarnished by his dad’s Yankee roots, as well as his mom’s mental breakdown.

  “Do you need help getting up to your room?” he asked gruffly after he’d pulled Jackson’s car into the family garage.

  “I’m a little shaky.”

  Rounding the hood, Adam scooped her out, into his arms.

  She opened her mouth to object, then shut it again and slid her good arm around his broad shoulders—where she felt oddly cherished.

  Aunt Esme, apparently awaiting their arrival, flung open the side door. Toodles bounded out, barking wildly and tangling himself in Adam’s feet.

  “Toodles, come here.” Aunt Esme snatched up the high-strung animal and fussed over Noelani’s bandage. As if sensing something amiss, the dog strained to give Noelani a welcome-home lick.

  She laughed, and quite suddenly it did feel like a homecoming. Enveloped in affection, she let Adam carry her all the way up to her bedroom. She also allowed Auntie E to turn back her bed and remove her shoes. After that, she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

  THREE DAYS LATER, HOWEVER, Noelani’d had enough of being cosseted and coddled. Although she still wore an Ace bandage, she’d taken off her sling. “I’m going stir crazy,” she confessed to Adam as she paced the kitchen while he laminated counters.

  He tightened the last butterfly clamp, then straightened and wiped Mastic off his hands. “The inlay has to dry for several hours.” Dropping to one knee, he piled his tools neatly in the toolbox. “Would you like to go for a drive?” he asked out of the blue.

  “Would I ever! Le
t me go tell Auntie E and Megan. Lately, they’ve become my self-appointed guardians.” Noelani spoke softly, so neither of them could accidentally overhear. She wouldn’t hurt their feelings for the world. In fact, these last few days, she’d developed a closer bond with the older woman, who loved teaching her about Bellefontaine.

  During her recovery, Noelani had learned much of the history attached to individual pieces of furniture. Before, she wouldn’t have been aware that the desk in Jackson’s office—formerly Duke’s office—had reportedly belonged to the other Duke. John Wayne. The cherry-wood piece dated back to the Civil War. To get the desk, Esme said her brother had outbid a host of other movie buffs.

  Noelani returned to the kitchen. “Betty said supper’s catch-as-catch-can tonight. Tanya has a test. Jackson and Auntie E are going to a program at Megan’s preschool. I don’t know where you’d like to drive, Adam. Shall we get wine, bread and cheese, and stop somewhere for a picnic?”

  “That’d work well for the place I have in mind.”

  “Oh, so you’ve decided we’re not just taking an aimless drive through the countryside?”

  “Nope. And don’t be nosy, either.”

  “A surprise, huh? You know dangling a surprise over a woman’s head is like offering a carrot to a horse you’re coaxing out of the barn.”

  She might as well forget attempting to pry their destination out of Adam. His lips were sealed. And he could be mighty stubborn.

  After they’d raided Betty’s fridge, Adam stopped by his garçonnière to change, collect a blanket and a bottle of wine. As they drove through the gate, Adam turned in the opposite direction from the one they usually took. A rapidly falling sun painted the trees overhanging the road a murky violet. Content not to know their destination, Noelani settled back to enjoy the transformation of day to dusk.

  But Adam only drove a few miles along the highway before he killed his lights and swerved onto a badly rutted side road.

  If it even was a road. Noelani grabbed the dashboard with her good hand.

  “Potholes,” Adam said, frowning. “Am I jarring you too much?”

  “Cracked all my back teeth,” she teased. “But don’t let that influence your plans. Adam, where are we? And why are the lights off? What’s out here in the boondocks?”

  “Hang on. I know what I’m doing. This is an old cane road.”

  “That accounts for the washboard ruts. Growers don’t usually invest a lot of money in improvements.” Her voice shook as the pickup bounced over a series of deeper furrows. They passed a weathered outbuilding. Noelani gasped when Adam swung around behind the structure, yanked on his emergency brake and turned off the engine.

  “Okay. I said I needed to get out of the house, Adam, but—”

  “Shh.” He touched a finger to her lips. “Last week I found this back way into Magnolia Manor. I wanted to take some measurements and get pictures of the interior. You know—in case Dewalt tries to make a case for tearing it down. I was also curious to see if anyone had trashed the inside.”

  “Oh, Adam, they didn’t?”

  “No, thankfully.” He got out and went to give Noelani a hand climbing down. Plucking the picnic basket from the bed of the pickup, he handed her the blanket and anchored his free arm around her waist. “Stick close, Noelani. I brought a flashlight, but I’d just as soon not use it where a neighbor driving past might see.”

  Stars had begun to pop out overhead before they reached the house. It was the dark phase of the moon, and Noelani felt as if she was walking blind. They climbed warped steps to what she surmised was a porch, and Adam set down the picnic basket. He quietly and persistently rattled the handles on a set of French doors until the left one sprung ajar.

  “Adam, can this be classed as breaking and entering?” Noelani hung back as he retrieved the basket and urged her forward.

  “Technically, I suppose. But I’ve been here three times and I haven’t been caught. I don’t intend for us to get caught tonight, either.”

  She shuffled along in his wake, taking small steps. Still, she walked into him once they were inside because he’d shut the door, and the smoky gray of the dusk outside became an inky black interior.

  Feeling Adam vanish, Noelani stopped dead. Then she heard a hiss and smelled the sharp odor of butane. The glow from a dual-mantled lantern threw grotesque shadows on a stark white wall.

  Little by little her eyes adjusted to the light. They were apparently in a large dining room, or drawing room. A row of crystal chandeliers marched down the center of a tall ceiling. She realized it was the shivering of the crystal pendants dangling from the chandeliers that added weird shapes to the room’s shadow.

  “Look at this floor,” Adam said, drawing her attention to dark planking that showed few scars. He held the lantern above his head. “Check out the lacy plaster frieze work. It’s repeated in the living room. The doorknobs throughout the entire place are hand-painted porcelain. I can’t believe a later owner never replaced those.”

  Noelani caught a little of his excitement. The blue of his eyes reflected the lantern light, and his black pupils were intense. Something in the way Adam ran a hand lovingly over the walls and doorknobs affected her deeply. To him, this place was far more than merely a place to hang his hat.

  “Come upstairs.” He motioned to her eagerly. “We’ll use the old servant route, which keeps to the back of the house. That way our light won’t shine through the upper windows, and we won’t risk being seen by passersby.”

  She started to leave the blanket, but saw he intended to carry the picnic basket upstairs, so she clamped the blanket under her good arm again.

  Adam led her through an intricate, dank warren, leaving Noelani out of breath. “This house is larger than it looks from the outside,” she panted. “Either that or I suffered more residual effects from my fall than I realized.”

  “It’s roughly half the size of Bellefontaine. Quite livable as a private residence. We’re only going a little farther down this hall. Want me to carry the blanket?”

  “I’m fine. Are we going to see your old room? I mean, the one you occupied as a boy.”

  “I can’t show you that room or the master bedroom, because their windows face the road. There are five bedrooms and three baths on this level. The one we’re visiting, my folks used for guests. Judging by the decoration, a subsequent owner made it a nursery. Probably due to its proximity to the playroom. It’s really changed. I remember wallpaper covered with toy soldiers. Everything looks girly now.”

  He opened the door on a cozy room painted soft pink. The walls above white wainscoting were papered with a delicate rose print. A burgundy-colored carpet covered the floor. The anteroom, which reminded Noelani of Megan’s play area, had bare floors, creamy white walls and frilly pink-and-cream curtains of some light, frothy material. “You’re right. This room belonged to one lucky little girl. Oh, Adam, wouldn’t you love to know what happened to them? Why would a family who owned this place allow it to revert to the state?”

  He set the lantern and basket on the floor, took the blanket from her and spread it out over the carpet. “That can be researched. I haven’t taken the time to do it,” he said as he knelt on the blanket and held up a hand to guide her. “Things just happen, Noelani. Jobs dissolve, families move. Lives change.”

  She sank down beside him. “That’s so true. The islands have been virtually overrun by resorts and vacation playgrounds. Our beautiful cattle ranches and fruit farms on the Big Island are a thing of the past. Bruce says sugarcane and pineapples can be exported a lot more cheaply from South America than from Maui. But I’m positive that if he hangs on, we’ll prove our sugar can compete in the world market.”

  Adam pulled the cork on a bottle of semisweet white muscadine wine. He poured a small amount into a glass, swirled it several times, then tasted it. “Ah, good! This is from a local winery. The owner runs a tasting room. He said his business is growing.” Adam filled both their glasses, recorked the bottle and set
it aside.

  Noelani removed a loaf of French bread from a bag. The smell of fresh yeast permeated the stale air in the windowless room. They’d brought three kinds of cheese and a bottle of spicy mustard.

  Smiling quirkily, Adam leaned back on his elbows and watched Noelani assemble sandwiches.

  “You’re enjoying my stab at domesticity a little too much, Mr. Ross,” she said, slapping a finished sandwich on a plate and shoving it toward him.

  She lifted her wineglass. Raising it higher, she waited until he joined her in a toast. Noelani found the ping of crystal against crystal satisfying. She was glad she’d insisted they bring real wineglasses rather than plastic.

  “What are we toasting?” Adam asked, holding his glass aloft.

  “We’ll drink to you realizing your dream.” Since he didn’t move, she elaborated. “Here’s to you becoming the new owner of Magnolia Manor.”

  “This toast should be to us.” His brow puckered.

  “Okay.” Noelani elevated her glass again. “May we each attain our heart’s desire.” She went to touch his glass with hers, but he jerked away.

  After a lengthy pause, he downed his wine and put his glass aside.

  “Adam? What’s wrong?”

  “I hadn’t planned to tell you. The real reason I wanted to come here tonight is to say goodbye to this grand old lady.” He scanned the room with carefully hooded eyes. “You were a good sport, not pressing me too hard about our destination. Thanks, Noelani.”

  “Goodbye?” She placed her glass on the basket and slid closer to Adam. “The bidding’s not over, for pity’s sake. You said you haven’t turned in your forms yet. I don’t understand. Isn’t there still a week to go?”

  “Remember you suggested having Jackson make a few inquiries at the courthouse? Well, he did. He was able to guess at a range of figures based on what two clerks said. I could beat the lower bid, no problem. The top bid, according to them, is a solid thirty thousand over the highest I can go, and that’s a stretch. It depends on me finishing at Bellefontaine and collecting my final payment, which might not even be possible with the insurance mess. But what the hell. I guess I always knew that owning this place was a long shot.”