by Jude Knight
“Rather late,” Becky grumbled. But her eyes softened.
“Then tell her,” his father urged. “I should have gone after your mother when she left. Should have made the changes she needed to live with me happily. I buried myself in work, instead. Got the annulment. Married again. Pat never recovered from losing two mothers in five years, and I… Well. It doesn’t matter. Don’t make my mistake, Drew.”
Zee would certainly try, if she would listen to him.
“That’s okay, then,” Dave said, with relief. “Mr O’Neal, I hear you’re booked into the motel for a couple of nights. Why not stay here instead? We have plenty of room.”
“He’s sorry,” Beks reported when she phoned Nikki in Auckland. “He was going to tell you today.”
“I’m not talking about it,” Nikki retorted. “I’ve had more than enough of liars in my life. I don’t need another.” She was being unfair, and she knew it. On the long drive to Auckland she had replayed Zee’s revelations about his family and matched them with what she knew of the O’Neal dynasty. Except for the matter of his identity, he had told her the truth.
“How close would you have let him get if you’d known he was Michael O’Neal’s son?”
Nowhere near. “A rather large omission, claiming a false name,” she argued.
“Zachary Andrew Henderson is the name on his birth certificate, apparently,” Beks told her. “He changed it to O’Neal when he turned 21, and changed it back when he broke with his family.”
“When the O’Neals bribed Russo.” Nikki’s anger rose again. She could accept that Zee had been an O’Neal, given he’d left them. But they had cheated and lied, and even so, he’d stayed in touch with his father.
“When one of his brothers bribed Russo. Mr O’Neal told us all about it. And Nikki, Zee contacted his father to track the links between Pokey and Chow. And he’s done it. He came to give us the evidence.”
Nikki managed half a smile. “That’s good, then.” Now Zachary Henderson O’Neal can hop onto the helicopter with his mega rich father and go back where he belongs, and leave Nikki Watson alone.
“Niks, how important is Zee Henderson to you?” Beks asked.
Nikki could feel tears rising, and blinked rapidly to chase them back. “I thought he was The One, Beks.”
“Then don’t be a fool,” her friend said. “Hear him out and give him a chance.”
Nikki tipped back her head and took a deep breath before speaking. “Whose friend are you? His? Or mine?”
Beks laughed. “Best friends forever, darling. That’s why I want you to be happy. Say hi to your Mum for me, and give me a ring when you’re ready to come home.”
Nikki closed the phone app, looking thoughtfully at her phone. She then lifted her head to meet her mother’s gaze. “Your friend thinks you should forgive your young man for deceiving you,” the older woman said.
“She says he was going to tell me.”
Sarah huffed. “They always say that. Or is she right?”
“Possibly. Probably. I think she is. But what if I’m wrong?” She’d been wrong about Russo, and look how that turned out?
“I trust you.” Sarah patted her hand, then withdrew again, cautious about overstepping. Nikki reached out and gave her mother’s hand a squeeze. Last night after Julia went to bed, they had talked for hours, partly lubricated by a bottle of wine, forging the beginnings of a friendship.
“I don’t trust me,” Nikki confided.
“You should. You’re a smart woman, and you learn from your mistakes. But more to the point, do you trust Zee?”
Dave made a couple of phone calls to find out who they should be talking to, and on Thursday morning Dave, Zee, and O’Neal took the helicopter down to Wellington for an appointment with several serious officials, who heard their story, accepted the paperwork O’Neal had collected plus the background material he supplied on a thumb drive, and took Zee’s statement about the conversation he and Nikki had overheard.
“And is Ms Watson not with you,” asked the woman in the pastel blue suit.
Zee, after the shocks of the day before and a night without sleep, had a mad impulse to claim that the bearded Dave Masterton was actually Nikki in disguise, but he suppressed his sarcasm and left Dave to reply. “She went to stay with family in Auckland yesterday morning. We’re not sure when she intends to return, but I can give you her mobile number and email address.”
Does she intend to return? Zee had wanted to go after her yesterday, but Beks told him to stay put and give Nikki time, and he would. But not forever. He was not giving up until she told him, with her own lips, that she never wanted to see him again; that he’d killed any chance of a future together.
If she went back to Brisbane with her mother, he’d have to go to her in Australia. By plane, though. He got airsick, a little, but nothing like his reaction to the ocean.
The civil servants were closing their tablets, putting them into a pile with their notebooks, slipping their pens into pockets. “Thank you, gentlemen,” said the one who had mostly taken the lead. “We may be in touch with further questions, and there may be charges to be laid, in which case you may hear from the police. Mr Henderson and Mr O’Neal, you do intend to stay in the country in the next week or two?”
Zee assured them that he lived here, and O’Neal said he would stay for at least the next week and check with them before he made any plans to go home.
Sure enough, in the following days, they had several phone conversations and a Skype call with various officials. O’Neal had taken a fortnight’s holiday for this trip, which meant leaving to his assistants anything that didn’t require his personal attention: even so, his mornings were given over to reports and emails, and he attended several long-distance business meetings.
Zee worked up at Nikki’s house while his father was busy. When Nikki came back—if she came back—she’d find the framing up for the new rooms, and wiring and plumbing well begun.
In the afternoons, he took his father around to see Valentine Bay and further afield, and they talked as they never had before.
A week after Nikki left, Zee and O’Neal were returning to where Zee’s had parked his pickup after having afternoon tea at Maggie’s. A raised voice drew their attention to the front door of Pokey’s real estate office; Pokey, complaining loudly. “Mr Chow is my guest, and a very wealthy man. You can’t come in here and start throwing accusations around.”
O’Neal raised his brows as he glanced at Zee, and Zee answered the unspoken question.
“Unless I am much mistaken, Dad, our friend Pokey has just discovered that he’s in trouble with the law.”
The tall well-built men who surrounded Pokey shifted a little, and the much smaller Mr Chow came into sight for a moment. “And how fortunate for the forces of good that Chow was with him at the time.”
At that moment, the Taiwanese billionaire looked their way, and O’Neal smiled broadly and waved. “I enjoyed that,” he said to Zee.
Quite a number of locals had stopped in the street or come out of the shops to watch as Pokey and Chow were escorted to waiting cars, so dozens of witnesses saw Snoopy Kenworth emerge the small office that provided a few minimal council services in the beachside village.
“I expect to enjoy this,” Zee murmured, gesturing to Snoopy with his head and eyebrows.
The elder Kenworth stopped, his head jerking backwards, when he saw the cluster of men surrounding Chow and his son. His face flooded with red, and he hunched his shoulders forward, his fists clenched, as he strode towards the group.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Barrington! What’s happening here?” Barrington was the local constable, and an old school friend of Dave’s and Becky’s. Zee had met him and his family often when the Mastertons entertained. Confronted by Snoopy, he managed to turn the broad grin he’d been wearing into a concerned frown.
Zee couldn’t hear his reply, but he heard Snoopy’s shouted response.
“What! That can’t be
true. Someone has lied to ruin the Kenworth’s good name. Jealous of success. It’s disgusting.”
One of the other police officers moved in, and by now Zee and O’Neal were now close enough to the group to hear the end of his polite request to “accompany us to Barnsley to answer some questions about a fraudulent breach of this country’s overseas investment regime.”
The colour drained from Snoopy’s face with the bombast, and it was a much-deflated bully that allowed himself to be put into one of the cars, with Pokey in a second and Chow in a third.
The timing of the arrest was good management rather than good fortune, Barrington told Dave later. He had been notified of the arrest as a courtesy to the local station. “The Wellington lads,” as he called them, “saw that the overseas person of interest was still in the country, and figured arresting old Pokey in front of him would help sew Pokey up, and maybe let them tag the overseas person as not welcome in New Zealand.”
But the final injury to the insult of the arrest came in the local newspaper the next day, and on national news in print, online and in broadcast the day after.
‘Councillor repudiates son’ screamed the local headlines. Snoopy had denied all knowledge of Chow’s ownership role in the hotel development, claimed he’d only put money in as a favour to his son, and contradicted Pokey’s statement that he’d taken an active role in the project.
It would be played out in the courts, which could take months, and Chow meanwhile was walking free, though never again in New Zealand. But the Mastertons’ ad hoc hotel committee met to celebrate with a glass of wine, and agreed that they’d won. The development was dead in the water, Pokey would at the very least need to pay an enormous fine—which would not be covered by insurance because he’d broken the law—and Snoopy had lost enormous support with the local voters. Even if he didn’t have to face charges, he could at least expect to lose his treasured role as a local district councillor.
Zee tried not to dampen the general merriment with his own anguish, but after a while he touched Dave on the shoulder to attract his attention. “I’m going to make an early night of it,” he told his friend. “I’ve got an early start at the house tomorrow.”
Dave examined him; eyes narrowed. “You’re looking tired. Not sleeping, I imagine.”
Not much. He tossed and turned, replaying his time with Nikki over and over, trying to make it come out differently.
“Becky! Zee’s off to bed. Walk him out, will you?”
Zee muttered that he knew the way, but Becky had already handed off the tray of cheese and crackers she was carrying and was heading his way. He’d been avoiding her as much as he could, feeling her judgment of him in her thoughtful gaze, and ashamed of disappointing her. She was as formidable a matriarch as Grandma O’Neal, though less than half the age. The thought let him steady himself before she reached him.
“I wanted a word, Zee,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go see Oliver.”
Zee caught his father’s eye, hoping the man would offer to come too. Another person would ease the tension. His father raised a wine glass in salute, then turned back to a conversation with the chairperson of the local marina.
Outside, the sun had gone down, reminding him of that last evening with Nikki. He stopped, looking up at the darkening sky, his throat tight.
Becky stood several steps up the staircase to his studio loft, examining him carefully. “You miss her,” she said.
He spoke before he could censor himself. “Do you think she’s coming back, Becky?” It sounded plaintive, but he didn’t care. Becky, of all people, knew how he missed her.
“Tomorrow, actually. I spoke to her this afternoon.”
Zee’s mouth dropped and his mind whirled. “Tomorrow? She’s going to be here tomorrow?”
“She is. That was what I wanted to tell you.”
“Did she...? Did you talk about...?”
“You? I can’t tell you, Zee. She is coming back to Valentine Bay and the house her grandparents left her. Any more, you’ll have to find out for yourself.” She descended the steps she had just climbed. “That’s it. That’s what I wanted to say.” She stopped next to Zee and patted his cheek.
“I wish you luck, if that’s any consolation. Goodnight, Zee. I’m going back to my guests. I hope you manage to get some sleep tonight.”
He watched her cross the turning circle and renter the house. Sleep? Not likely.
Nikki returned to the Mastertons’ house on Valentine’s Day, crossing the driveway to let herself into her apartment. She knew Zee had seen her park her little car; he was standing at the studio window. Beks said he wanted to talk? Let him come and talk.
Even so, she jumped when a knock came at the outer door a few minutes later. She put on her bland ‘I hear you but none of it affects me’ lawyer face, before she opened up to find Zee on the doorstep. He was holding out a dozen red roses. She ignored them, folding her arms.
“May I explain?” he asked.
She opened the door wider and stepped out of the way.
“I’m listening.” She walked through to the living room but didn’t sit. He followed, putting the roses on the kitchen bench as he passed.
“I’m sorry, Nikki. I know I should have told you. At first, I didn’t think it would matter. As I got to know you better, I kept putting it off. Then I fell in love with you and I was afraid you would hate me when you knew I was an O’Neal. But after that Sunday night on the beach… I was going to tell you the day I invited you to lunch.”
Fell in love? “That’s unfair,” she grumbled. How was she meant to stay cross with him now?
“I know,” he agreed, hanging his head. “I should have told you.”
“You hurt me, Andrew O’Neal, or Zachary Henderson, or whatever your name is. I thought we were friends. I thought I could trust you. And then I found out I didn’t even know who you were. How could you have let me find out like that?”
He spread both hands. “I didn’t know my father was coming.” And then, hastily, as if to forestall the words she wasn’t about to say, “But I should have guessed.”
“It shouldn’t have mattered. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d told me at the start.”
He nibbled nervously at his lip. “What do I need to do? I’ll do anything.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, struggling to hold on to her anger. “How am I supposed to trust anything an O’Neal says? Your brother bribed a member of my legal team. You O’Neals made Global Earth Watch—and me—look like idiots.”
“It still burns me, too.” He looked sincere. But so had Russo, when he assured her he only had Global’s best interests at heart.
“If it helps, my brother Pat lost his wife over it.”
“She left him because he was a liar?” She probably left him to move in with Russo after Nikki threw him out. “Good on her.”
But Zee shook his head. “He divorced her because she was working for Chow, who was behind the whole scheme.”
Nikki sat down; the news too unexpected for her indignation to keep her upright any longer.
“Chow? The same Mr Chow who was the secret investor in Pokey’s hotel?”
“My father says he sent you information about the conspiracy, but he didn’t know about Chow at the time.”
More revelations. “That was your father?”
Zee nodded. “He thought you had a right to know. Yes, and Global Earth Watch, too. They’ve had the decision overturned. I guess you knew that.”
So, the patriarch of O’Neal Hotel Corporation had given her the information that Global Earth Watch needed to recover their reputation and go after the real offenders. The idea that he was one of the good guys was going to take some getting used to.
Zee was waiting, sad and watchful, his gaze never leaving her face. Dark bruises under his eyes hinted at lost sleep, and he had cut himself trimming his beard.
“You said you would do anything,” she reminded him.
“Anything.” It was a heartfelt sigh.<
br />
“Leave Valentine Bay and never come back?” she suggested.
Zee paled and swallowed. “That’s what you want?”
“No, it isn’t.” She twisted the screws a bit tighter. “Would you leave New Zealand if I told you that was what I needed from you?”
He bit his lip, but nodded.
“Good. But it isn’t that, either.”
“Nikki, you’re killing me,” he protested, and Nikki relented.
“Do you really love me, whatever your name is?”
Zee lifted his hanging head, hope flaring in his eyes. “With every particle of my being, and my name can be anything you want.”
“Beloved, then. My beloved.”
She was in his arms, being thoroughly kissed. “You forgive me then?” he asked at last, when he could speak again.
“I suppose I must,” Nikki told him. “I love you, Zee.”
He bent his head and kissed her again, and very little was said for some time.
Epilogue
On Valentine’s Day a year later, Zee and Nikki were eating lunch where they’d had many an outdoor meal, in both rain and shine, enjoying the cover of the upper veranda and the view out over North Beach. That view would soon be changing. With Zee’s application for permanent residency finally approved, they’d submitted to council the proposal for the latest hotel in the O’Neal hotel chain. Not that it was owned by the O’Neal Hotel Corporation. Dad and Brendan had agreed to try a franchise model, and had persuaded the board; local ownership and a licence payment to the international company. If it worked here in New Zealand, they might try it elsewhere, helping local communities own their own luxury hotels.
The primary shareholders all lived in Paradise Bay. Zee, Nikki, the Mastertons, and a number of other smaller investors from the village. The district council would undoubtedly put them through the wringer to make sure the plans were robust, but Zee could hardly complain about them acting on the lessons they’d learned from the failed Kenworth development.