Mama Kalala's laughter shook her excess skin. "Ho! You are a persistent one, are you not, my little coconut? We make a deal, yes? If you have no home, then of course, you stay with us. We have a large house with many rooms. I will be glad for the company. As you know, I only have sons, no daughter."
Her smile dazzled. "Your Hawai'ian name will be Anakalia."
Andrea, or rather Anakalia, jumped out of her chair and hugged her brand-new mama.
Mama Kalala returned the embrace, then pulled away to shake her finger. "But first, child, I insist you take a bath. Your short hair is stiff with ocean water and from exposure has turned the strangest shade of orange. Blonde is not your natural color, is it?"
"I don't know." But Andrea didn't care about that. Fingers crossed her relations, whomever they were, didn't care enough to locate her.
Mama Kalala bustled about her homemade crafts, obviously looking for something. "It will all work out all right, child. Not to worry."
She plucked an absolutely gorgeous nut necklace--mottled brown shiny "beads" and tiny hand-carved hibiscus flowers in between each nut.
"With this kukui nut necklace, let me welcome you to the Lawai'a home. May you change from a malihini--guest, to a kamaaina--child of the land." Mama Kalala placed the necklace over Andrea's head, then kissed her cheek.
Andrea felt the sting of tears. Had she ever known such kindness before?
"After your shower, put on one of my mu'umu'us. You will be swimming in it, of course, so come back and I will try to fill you up with some fresh sushi and pork." Mama Kalala shooed her out of the kitchen, toward the bathroom.
"Remember, Anakalia," she added, "with dolphins as your friends, you cannot help but be blessed."
Fingering the loveliest gift she'd ever received, Andrea walked into the bathroom, shut the door, then sank down on the toilet. She allowed her tears to flow. She was indeed truly blessed. And now, she hoped and prayed, she'd be permitted to continue on with her new life.
CHAPTER FOUR
Seven-Year Itch
Seven Years Later.
It was good to be back at work.
With a contented sigh, Will Struthers sat behind his large oak desk. His padded chair molded to fit his contour, his computer waited for his command to spring to life, and muted background music soothed, but didn't intrude.
Yes, it was good to be back.
He flipped his desk calendar forward to today's date. He'd only been gone a week, but so much had happened during that interval.
He was now a married man.
Focusing on the plain gold band on his left hand, Will shifted his attention to his overflowing in-box. Wedded status aside, he had two malpractice cases to review, an appointment with a prospective client, and whatever else his paralegal had waiting for him.
It was Monday morning business as usual at Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen.
When the grandfather clock behind Will tolled once, he lifted his gaze from the monitor screen and blinked tired eyes. Five hours had flown by without him even knowing. His stomach reminded him that he'd ignored one of his basic needs.
He stood, then stretched. He could grab a bite--
"Will, baby!" Kevin Ballantine rushed into the office as if he was on fire. "I just got back from court and heard you were here, you old dog. I've missed you."
Kevin's enthusiastic handshake was a workout in itself. Will rubbed his right shoulder. "Yeah, Stella and I flew in Saturday night. I'm glad to be back."
Kevin sat in one of the leather wing-backed chairs in front of the desk. His bulldog face flushed. "You know I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you on your special day. Act as your best man."
Will sat back down. Lunch would have to wait. "How's your mother doing?"
"Better. She came home from the hospital right before Thanksgiving. Still recovering, but you can hardly tell she had a stroke."
Despite his friend patting his bristly crewcut, the hair sprang back up at attention. "How was my stand-in? Did he do as good a job as I did last time?"
Will winced. Even seven years later, what had happened in Hawaii hurt. Continued to hurt. He glanced around his oak-paneled office before replying. Its staid atmosphere always calmed him. "Stella's brother did fine. He didn't roast me like you would've."
"And how's the little lady herself? Still thrilled with the sound of her name, Stella Struthers?"
"She does seem overly enamored of it, doesn't she?" Will grinned. Since the wedding, Stella made a point to introduce herself to any and all strangers she met. If he didn't know any better, he'd think his name was the only reason the Southern Belle had wanted to marry him.
Kevin tapped his heavy foot and lifted a red eyebrow. "Details?"
"Stella's perfect. What else can I say?" Will shrugged. "She's a very giving person. Volunteers at several local organizations. A great cook, too."
"Yeah, yeah, sounds like a saint. What about the bedroom stuff? Any good?"
"None of your business, buddy boy." Will stood again, smoothed down his tie, and buttoned his suit jacket. "You have lunch yet?"
"Nope, let's go. And let me tell you, I think perfection is overrated. Personally, I like my women with a few flaws."
As they walked out of the office, heading for the elevators, Will frowned. Kevin's comment, while sounding innocent, irritated him. Damn, after the emotional hell Will had gone through over the past seven years, he deserved happiness. Complete, perfect happiness.
And the fact that Stella was picture perfect, well, so much the better.
He couldn't help retorting, "Your women must not like you too well, though. You haven't had a relationship last over three months."
"True, but then again, the selection process is such fun." Kevin stopped in front of the new legal assistant's desk and wagged his eyebrows at her.
She fluttered her lashes back at him.
Will turned away, resigned to eating alone. Another office romance was getting underway.
He left his friend to flirt and walked to the elevators. Truth be told, he was glad not to have to worry about romancing anymore. Glad to get on with his life. Wife, kids, white picket fenced house--these were now his goals at the age of thirty-five. He finally accomplished the first. It was only a matter of time before the others materialized.
"Mr. Struthers! Mr. Struthers!" Randolph Ernst's mature secretary, Melinda Dithers, called over the heads of law students mulling about in the reception area. One of the associate attorneys must've been tasked with escort duty--accompanying the students to a court case.
Melinda elbowed her way through the crowd, then patted her ample chest as she stood before Will. "Heavens to Betsy, I'm so relieved I caught you, Mr. Struthers." She huffed and puffed for breath. "Mr. Ernst must see you right away. Something very urgent has come up. An emergency."
Lunch would have to wait--again. Will thanked the secretary and headed for Randolph's office.
She fell into step beside him. "Welcome back, sir. We... we missed you."
Will exchanged a few pleasantries about the Thanksgiving holiday, but only gave half his attention to the conversation. What the devil was Randolph's emergency?
"Thanks, Melinda." Leaving her outside the big man's office, Will knocked on the door, then entered.
"Come in, Will, and close the door." Randolph stood and held out his hand for a shake.
Although the man's grip was firm, the years hadn't been kind to Randolph Ernst. A network of lines extended out from his now-murky blue eyes. His mouth drooped, his silver hair no longer gleamed. He was still a fine figure of a man, but his daughter's death had extinguished his life's force. He was now only going through the motions.
Will sat in a stately Queen Anne chair, a genuine antique, of course. "Good to see you, Randy. Have a nice Thanksgiving?"
Randolph sat opposite him. He shrugged. "Another day like any other. How was your honeymoon?"
A sharp pain lanced through Will. Obviously this was a touchy subject. Randolph didn't begrud
ge him happiness, nor blame him for what happened to his daughter. Nor did he protest five months ago when Will had filed the motion to declare Andrea legally dead.
She'd been gone seven years. Will and Randolph needed to move on.
Will carefully chose his words. "After the wedding, we drove to Atlanta and spent a few days sightseeing. Then back to her mother's house for Thanksgiving."
"Long drive?"
Why the hell was Randolph asking this? This was inconsequential talk. Just what was the emergency?
"No, only twelve miles south of Atlanta. Beautiful part of the country."
Will waited. Although his stomach protested its empty state, he put all thoughts of eating soon on hold. The longer Randolph delayed in revealing what was going on, the more concerned Will became.
"Not much of a honeymoon," Randolph commented.
Will shifted in his chair. Stella had wanted to fly to Maui. Will put the kibosh on that. There was no way in hell he'd ever go to Hawaii again.
Thank the heavens the Thanksgiving holiday with all its family traditions had distracted her. He'd promised her a makeup honeymoon. In a different location.
His patience was at an end. "Melinda told me you had an emergency."
"Yes." Randolph stood, then paced the expensive Persian area rug in his large office. "A delicate matter. I need you to look into this for me. Rumors are leaking about an associate in one of our offices. He's being considered to make partner and has a spotless record. But there are hints of impropriety. Even gossip about jury tampering."
Randolph stopped pacing. "However, he could be innocent. There's a good deal of rivalry at that office. Rivalry can be a good thing, but..."
He slammed his fist into his open palm. "We have to get to the bottom of these rumors. We have to protect the firm's reputation."
Will agreed with his boss' sentiments. "Which office?"
Walking back over, Randolph set his hand on Will's shoulder. "Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen--Honolulu."
Hell! Will leapt out of the chair and narrowed his gaze at the other man. "You can get someone else, Randy. I'm not going back there."
The air surrounding them almost crackled with electrical sparks.
Randolph held the connection, then backed away. He half-sat on the edge of his desk. "First, the office is in Oahu, not Molokai or Maui where Andrea..."
He took a moment before continuing. "Second, I need you, Will. I trust you more than anyone else in the firm. Even more than Scargill or Petersen."
That was high praise indeed. But traveling back to where a part of him died as well? The guilt he held, knowing that he was, however inadvertent, partly responsible for Andrea fleeing out onto the yacht's deck...
Will jammed his hands in his jacket pockets, ruining the elegant line of his suit. "Damn it all, Randy, you know what it's been like. I just got married again. The wounds are finally beginning to heal. To dredge up the past, well, it's not a good idea."
"I know. I understand." Randolph slowly nodded. "But I need you to handle this for me. Jack Fairweather is a fine lawyer. He's been part of the Honolulu office for six years. You've got to find out what's going on."
Randolph Ernst rarely asked for anything. Will ran his hand through his hair. How could he, in all good conscience, refuse the man?
He walked over to the large picture window and stared out at familiar places: the historic red brick buildings and cobblestone streets of the Shockoe Slip district in Richmond. All too soon he'd be seeing exotic ones--tropical palm trees and tourist-invested beaches.
Will exhaled his regret. "All right, I'll do it. When do you want me to leave?"
Randolph joined him by the window. "Melinda reserved a flight for you tomorrow at ten-thirty."
"So soon?"
"I'm sorry, Will. This has to be investigated immediately." Randolph placed his hand on Will's shoulder again. "We've scheduled you for a week. Ziegler will handle your cases while you're gone. Should you need to shorten or lengthen the trip, just adjust your flight accordingly."
Damn. All Will had time to do was go home and kiss his new wife goodbye. He shook his head. How was Stella going to react to this unexpected assignment?
He turned away from the window. "All right. I'll pack up here, go home, then get on the plane in the morning."
Randolph held out his hand for another shake. "Thank you, Will."
He pitied his former father-in-law. Just talking about this business with its tragic location had dimmed the man's eyes even further. "No problem, Randy."
With a wave, Will exited the office and stopped by Melinda's desk. He picked up the tickets and a packet of pertinent information, and then went back to his office.
When he entered, scents of sweet gardenias drifted over to him. Stella.
"Hi, sugar!" She jumped up from the leather couch and encircled him in a hug. "I've missed you so."
He forgot his bad news for a moment and savored her embrace. Then reality hit.
"Hi Stella. Good to see you. Let's have a seat."
She smiled brightly, which lifted her high cheekbones even further, and followed him to the couch. Folding her manicured hands in her lap, she drawled, "You're wonderin' why I'm here, I know, but I just yearned to see you, sugar."
Facing a hostile judge in court wouldn't be as difficult as telling Stella about the trip.
"And I brought you somethin' for you to put on your desk--to remember me by." She reached into her overstuffed huge handbag and pulled out a nine by eleven mirrored picture frame. "It's me, sugar, thinkin' of you."
Her photo was reflected on all sides of the frame. Stella's dark eyes sparkled, her shoulder-length golden hair glowed. She looked as perfect as a model. Flawless complexion, pert nose, rosebud lips.
"You're beautiful, Stella." He meant the compliment. Deep down he knew he was lucky that she agreed to marry him. He was a cold-blooded bastard. Sometimes he wondered if he even had a heart.
She beamed. Running her fingers up his chest, she played with the knot in his tie. "Sugar, can you guess what I want to do with you when you come home tonight? Hmmn?"
He took the picture, set it on his desk, then returned to the couch. "Stella, something unexpected came up. I have to fly out to Hawaii."
She blinked rapidly, then her smile deepened. "Why you romantic so-and-so! You know how I wanted to go there for our honeymoon. You arranged this." She gave him a playful punch on the bicep. "When are we goin'?"
He took her hand. "Just me, Stella. It's business, and the sooner I get done, the sooner I can get back."
Her rosebud lips protruded in a pout. Her nostrils flared. She didn't speak.
Here comes another nail in the coffin. "I have to leave tomorrow."
She pulled away from him. Then she straightened the sleeves on her very expensive cashmere sweater. "Well, shoot. I couldn't go with you anyway, even if you wanted me to. December first is the annual Christmas tree lightin' at the Richmond International Raceway, remember? It's an important tradition. Every year I'm on the holiday committee, n'all. I'd hoped, as my husband, you'd be there with me."
Will smoothed circles on the back of her hand. "Next year, Stella. I promise."
She pulled her hand away from his. "It's fine if you go to Hawaii without me. I can't leave here. I just can't. You know I dote on all things NASCAR. I love watchin' the racin' cars, the drivers, the pit crews, and especially the drivers."
Stella's dark eyes watered up. "I-I try to be a part of racin' with this tree lightin' ceremony." Tears spilt out onto her rosy cheeks. "W-We just got married, sugar. It's just not fair."
He took her into his arms and smoothed circles on her back. "I'm sorry, Stella. Really I am. I'll make it up to you."
"Like you're goin' to make up our honeymoon?" She sobbed into the crook of his neck for a few moments, and then settled down. "I'm sorry, sugar. I'm just bein' missish."
Will kissed her perfumed hair, then helped her stand. "Let me pack up a few things here, then we'll go hom
e." He nibbled on her earlobe. "And then I can try to guess what it is that you want to do with me tonight."
Stella gave him a tentative smile. "Okay, sugar. Bring me somethin' special from Hawaii?"
"Of course." He returned her smile, then got busy loading up his briefcase with work.
Crisis avoided on the home front--for now. But tomorrow loomed another crisis. How the hell was he supposed to function dispassionately and analytically once he arrived in the city of Honolulu?
* * * *
The Hunt for Jack Fairweather. Yeah, if Will's life at this point was turned into a movie, that would be the title of the opus. Once he arrived at Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen--Honolulu on Wednesday morning, he'd been greeted with the unfortunate news that Jack Fairweather had taken a month's vacation.
Where to?
Unknown.
The man didn't answer his telephone or cell, none of his neighbors knew his whereabouts, and the post office had been instructed to hold his mail, not forward.
Will was an attorney, not a detective.
Since he was adverse to making this trip again in a month's time, he nosed about the Honolulu office, learning what he could about Fairweather.
The jury tampering charges, Will dismissed. Those had been raised by a cuckolded assistant district attorney whose wife had dallied with Fairweather.
In fact, Fairweather made it a practice to dally with other men's wives. Because of that, he was not well liked. But as for other improprieties, as mentioned by Randolph, Will came up empty. Fairweather seemed to be on the up-and-up.
And now, two days later, Will was at a dead-end. He sat behind Fairweather's desk and stared out the window. The Aloha Tower dominated the metropolitan view. For a moment, he gazed at the waterfront landmark and the tall, graceful palm trees reaching for clear, azure skies.
If he didn't have a break on Fairweather's whereabouts by the end of business, he might as well fly back home tomorrow.
ONE WIFE TOO MANY Page 4