She lifted a shoulder delicately as they fell into step. “I imagine the lawful duo wishes Papa had drowned the mongrel at birth.”
“Can’t say you look like any kind of mongrel I’ve ever seen,” he teased.
Their shoulders brushed as they walked down the hall. Noelani moved a step to the right to avoid touching him. The man was far too big—and far too quick with his flirtatious comments. Adam Ross made her uneasy.
“There.” He pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “I was going to offer to go in with you if you feel you need protecting. But you give the impression you can take care of yourself.” Walking backward a short distance, Adam mockingly doffed an imaginary hat, then turned and left her on her own.
“Honestly,” she muttered, feeling the doorknob slip under her sweaty hand. Darting a glance down the hall to make sure Adam wasn’t spying on her, Noelani quickly wiped her palm down her dress. Taking a firmer grip on the knob, she threw back her shoulders and opened the door.
The instant she entered the room, her eyes landed on Cassandra Fontaine Devlin. Except for weepy, bruiselike smudges under her eyes, and a long, dark auburn ponytail, she shared the Fontaine look. A narrow face and foxlike chin proved a foil for her unsettling green eyes. At least they unsettled Noelani, because she sensed a vulnerability akin to her own in Duke’s daughter. His legitimate daughter.
Jackson straightened away from an antique desk made of dark cherry. A white-haired, paunchy man sat behind it, swirling ice in a tumbler of amber liquid. The minute Jackson noticed Noelani, he came to greet her. “Casey. Nick. Shelburne. This is Noelani Hana.”
Nick Devlin unfolded his rangy body from a chair to extend a hand.
Flustered by the hurt expression on her half sister’s face, Noelani almost didn’t shake Nick’s hand. She did in the end, although she clamped her teeth tight to keep her chin from quaking.
“Shall we get on with this?” Casey abruptly demanded in a husky, scratchy voice. “Some of us get up at dawn to earn our keep.”
Jackson frowned a bit. Nick sat quickly and slipped a bracing arm around his wife’s narrow shoulders.
“Noelani, there’s a vacant seat next to Aunt Esme,” Jackson said.
Actually there wasn’t. Toodles had claimed the brocade cushion. But Esme scooped the dog into her lap, allowing Noelani space to sit.
“Shelburne promised this won’t take long.” Jackson crossed the room again.
“It won’t,” the lawyer reiterated. “I already told Jackson that Duke and Angelique’s property disbursement is fairly straightforward.” Prescott pushed aside a stack of papers. Opening his briefcase, he removed a set of stapled documents.
“Cassandra and Jackson, Angelique made a list of her jewelry for insurance purposes. With the exception of her wedding set, which was previously earmarked for the woman Jackson will one day marry, she split the items equally between you. As she did the cash in her personal account. I must say, since she financed their recent trip abroad, it’s a modest sum. Thirty thousand, give or take a few hundred.”
Casey leaned forward, tension stiffening her slender back. “Why would Maman finance their trip? Duke said he planned it as an anniversary gift—or more of a second honeymoon,” she said, telegraphing Noelani a smug “so there” message.
“I’ll get to that. Let me finish. Duke has allotted a yearly stipend for his sister, Esme. While technically the house passes to Jackson, a codicil gives Esme the right to live out her days at Bellefontaine. Wisteria Cottage, which belonged to Duke’s mother, and its five acres, is in a separate trust for the use of current or future Fontaine heirs. I understand, Casey, that you and Nick are currently living in the cottage.”
“Yes. Temporarily. What about the mill and the cane fields?” Casey asked, sliding to the edge of her straight-backed chair.
Shel again scolded her with a glance over his half glasses. Nick ran a hand up Casey’s back and lightly massaged her neck. She automatically slumped sideways, curving into the hollow below his arm.
“The cane fields, outbuildings, mill, all warehouses and the refinery Duke purchased a few weeks before his death are to be divided equally among Jackson Fontaine, Cassandra Fontaine Devlin and Noelani Hana. I’ve prepared an inventory of all assets, liabilities and cash connected to the aforementioned properties. The bank has provided this independent audit, which Jackson requested.” Getting up, Shelburne handed each of the three siblings a packet.
Noelani watched Jackson, Casey and Nick pore over the pages. She folded hers in half and cleared her throat. “Jackson, I…ah…don’t know if you’re aware that I knew nothing of this prior to Mr. Prescott’s letter. It was never my intention to intrude on your lives. I feel the best thing for everyone would be if you and your sister cashed out my part and let me be on my way.”
Casey sat up in a rush. “Finally, something that makes sense. I’m agreeable. Aren’t you, Jackson?”
Jackson emerged from a stupor. “Casey, have you checked the bottom line? Except for the funds Maman left, which if we’re lucky will cover this month’s operating expenses, we’re property rich but cash poor.”
Casey flipped to the last page of the report. “How can that be?” She glared at Shelburne, while she repeated the question.
He set his tumbler aside. “Obviously Duke didn’t expect to die on this trip, Casey. Both his banker and I advised against buying the refinery from Roland Dewalt. Duke wanted it. Thank God, he didn’t second-mortgage the house to get it.”
“No,” Jackson snapped. “But he speculated on raw-sugar prices last season, banking prices would go up. They fell several cents a pound instead. We took a major loss. I had no idea until I saw the bank audit.”
“Even so,” Casey said stubbornly, “the last five years our yield has been up. Way up.”
Noelani’s head whipped back and forth as she tried to follow their talk. Among other things, Duke Fontaine had apparently been a worse businessman than he was a father. Well, to her, anyway.
Prescott held up a hand. “Duke always walked a financial tightrope. He gave you all free rein with spending. Angelique went overboard on clothes and cars for herself and you kids. She entertained lavishly—the Fontaines did everything first class. The upkeep alone on Bellefontaine is horrendous. Casey, you asked Duke to update the fleet of trucks and cane trailers. He bought everything new. You wanted the most expensive harvester. He bought it. Then you figure in college for three. To say nothing of the years he’s subsidized Anela Hana and her child.”
“Wait, a darned minute!” Noelani sprang up. “I went to Hawaii State on a full scholarship. My mother kept books for Bruce Shiller’s company for her money. We took nothing from Duke Fontaine.”
Prescott’s eyes darkened sympathetically. “Duke allowed you to think that. He insisted on providing for Anela and you. He said she was a proud woman, and you were filled with anger. Through Bruce Shiller, Duke arranged to pay your mother’s salary, including periodic raises. After she died, he continued the practice for you. He funded your scholarship, Noelani. Read the audit. It’s all there in black and white.”
Eyes suddenly awash in tears, she couldn’t have seen the figures if she’d looked right at them. Shaking her head vigorously in denial, Noelani ran headlong from the room. She’d phone Bruce. They were lying! They had to be. This was all a trick to make her feel bad so she’d say they didn’t owe her anything.
She’d seen a phone at the base of the stairs. She found it, figured out the time difference in her head, then dialed Hawaii. Bruce would still be in his office. “Hi, Midori, it’s Noelani. Let me speak to Bruce. It’s urgent.” She tapped a toe impatiently until he came on the line. “Bruce, the Fontaines are trying to imply Duke paid Mama’s salary. And mine. They claim he…he funded my scholarship.”
There was a silence.
“Bruce? Did you hear me?” Noelani’s hand tightened as the man at the other end sighed, then began talking fast.
“How could you?” she said in a hushed tone. “Guilt
money, Bruce? You helped Duke Fontaine ease his guilty conscience. You let him trade money for Mama’s broken heart. How could you?”
Shiller talked faster. Noelani chewed her lower lip to keep the tears at bay. And she cast her eyes toward the high ceiling. “I know the cost of shipping sugar from the islands has risen twentyfold in as many years. I’ve seen other growers sell out.”
Noelani slumped against the wall. She was tempted to cut her losses and wash her hands of the Fontaines. But if she did, she could kiss her plan for Shiller’s goodbye. “You said yourself this inheritance is mine by right of birth. I’m not leaving Louisiana until I have what’s due me. I only wish you’d told me the truth before I had to hear it from Duke’s legitimate kids.” She couldn’t stay angry with Bruce, the man who’d been more of a father to her than her own. Her voice softened. “Bye, Bruce. I’ll keep you posted.”
She set the receiver down gently, dried her eyes and lifted her head in time to see Jackson Fontaine hovering half in, half out of his office.
“Are you okay?” He stepped out of the room and she steeled herself to meet him.
“Your figures are apparently correct. I swear I had no idea my mother or I took one cent from your father. I’m sorry for my outburst.”
Jackson rubbed his neck. “It’s okay.” His lips twitched. “Yours was nothing compared to the fit Casey threw when we first learned about you.”
“I imagine it was a shock. Only I didn’t ask to be born, remember?”
He spread a hand and invited her to enter the office ahead of him. “This is a situation none of us asked for. We’re all in the same boat. And there’s a lot at stake here, so we’re going to have to make the best of it.”
“You propose doing that how?”
“Well, you could go back to Maui and leave the resolution in our hands.”
“Not on your life! Is it necessary for me to hire a separate lawyer?”
“God, no. In my experience, the more lawyers involved, the muddier a situation gets, to say nothing of tripling costs.”
“So there you have it. I suspect you have a plan up your sleeve.”
“Not up my sleeve, exactly. Would you be willing to sign an agreement to defer finalizing your portion of the property until Casey and I bring in this year’s crop? Or at least until we settle the outstanding insurance claims?”
“I don’t think I’m willing to sign anything. At least not tonight.”
“Mind telling me why not?”
“When it comes down to it, Jackson, I know cane as well as you and your sister do. We all have a vested interest in bringing your crop in at a high yield.”
“You say that now in the heat of the moment. Tomorrow you might feel differently.” Looking unhappy, he returned to the desk where Shel Prescott still sat, having obviously refreshed his drink. Noelani returned to her seat beside Aunt Esme, who still stroked a snoring Toodles.
Jackson spoke up. “In spite of our denials, accusations and disbelief, I believe we can agree this problem isn’t going away. I propose we sleep on it and meet again at breakfast, to see if anyone’s been struck by some great revelation during the night. Shel’s promised he’ll recheck the status of our insurance claims.”
Casey twisted her ponytail and lifted it off her neck. Sighing deeply, she deferred to her brother with a shrug.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Nick said. “Everyone’s pretty emotional tonight.”
Dropping her hair, Casey got to her feet. “It’ll have to be early, Jackson. If saving our butts depends on bringing in the cane, that’s all the more reason for me to be out in the fields rather than stuck in some meeting.”
“Betty’s due at six. Is six-thirty okay with you, Noelani?”
“Sure. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
“Aunt Esme. You’re remarkably quiet this evening.”
“Bellefontaine has survived many ups and downs. It passed to my brother during one of its worst slumps. He built it into the voice of sugar in Louisiana—indeed, in the whole South. You’re all of his blood. If the three of you pull together, I have no doubt we’ll get through this.” She stood, managing to look regal even after a long day. Carrying the yawning schnauzer, she marched to the door. “Toodles and I will skip breakfast at that uncivilized hour. We’ll see everyone for cocktails before supper.”
Casey and Nick followed Esme out after all good-nights were said.
Jackson remained by the desk. It was clear to Noelani that he wanted some time alone with the lawyer.
“I napped before dinner, so I’m wide awake. The rain’s stopped. Is it all right if I change clothes and go for a walk?”
“Fine with me. There are night-lights in the upper and lower halls. Oh, and carriage lamps on the fence posts. The fence marks the perimeter of Bellefontaine.”
“Is there danger of falling in an abandoned well if I hike out to the cane? I love hearing the wind rustling through the stalks at night. It relaxes me.”
“Casey, too. Hmm. I guess you have that in common. But to answer your question—no wells. Feel free to wander. Except the rows aren’t lit.”
“I won’t go into the cane. I doubt your sister would approve of me touching her precious stalks.” She gathered her papers and left the two men.
“Noelani,” Jackson called before she disappeared. “Casey idolized Duke. He let her down. It’s him she’s furious with. Not you.”
“My mother gave him up, you know. She only spoke to me about him once. She swore she never had any idea he was married when she first got involved with him, and when she found out, she sent him away. To the best of my knowledge, she never asked him for anything. No money. No contact. Nothing. But she never stopped loving him. Which made no sense to me, and I’m pretty furious at him, too. I’ll see you at six-thirty tomorrow.”
Noelani returned to her room, where she tugged on jeans, a tank top and a lightweight white cotton sweater. Pinning her hair into a loose bun, she tiptoed softly down the hall so as not to wake Tanya, Megan or Aunt Esme. In the aftermath of the squall, the night air was heavy. Too muggy for jeans, but Noelani was no stranger to the biting bugs that came out at night around cane.
Bellefontaine in all its glory made her catch her breath, not for the first time. She was used to living in a two-bedroom, single-story duplex. The bedrooms had no glass at the windows, but screens to let in cool ocean breezes.
The minute she stepped outside, Noelani dragged in a huge lungful of the heavy, humid air.
She wandered around front, where she paused and listened to the varied tunes played by the fountains. Closing her eyes, she let the day’s tensions slowly seep away.
Noelani dug in her pocket and found a stray penny, then made a wish, tossing the coin at the top tier near a carved pineapple decorating the largest fountain.
Something scraped off to her right. Crouching instinctively, she whirled.
“Easy. Easy there.” A rich, lazy voice reproached her from the darkened porch of the nearby garçonnière. Adam Ross disconnected himself from the shadows and stepped into view. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt, and held a frosty beer.
“I’ve heard that people throw coins in fountains. I’ve never seen anyone actually do it. Is it more effective than wishing on the first night star?”
Noelani glanced upward. “I’d be out of luck tonight. There are no stars.”
Adam leaned a shoulder against the rough siding and took another drink. He gestured with the bottle. “It’s muggy as hell tonight. Want one of these?”
“Sure.” She sauntered toward him. “Is the weather keeping you up?”
“Nah. I’m a night owl. Always have been.” He bent, reached behind him, opened an ice chest and pulled out another cold bottle.
“Staying up alone, drinking the night away, seems a sure path to perdition,” she said lightly. She accepted the bottle after he wrenched off the top.
Adam toyed with the idea of suggesting she come inside and keep him company—then he wouldn’t be alon
e. He settled on a different tack. “Worried about my soul, sugar pie?”
“No. But I think you should be.” The man was certainly glib with his cutesy endearments. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when he called her sugar pie that made it feel less insulting than when he’d thrown “sweet thing” at her. Anyway, she let it pass.
“If it’ll ease your mind, two of these is my limit. Throughout the day I drink bottled water. How did your meeting go?”
She didn’t know how to answer without going into the whole convoluted story. And the Fontaines had enough troubles without her spreading tales of their financial woes. Lifting her beer, she sipped, then rolled the cold bottle across her cheek.
“That bad, huh? I saw Shelburne Prescott peel out of here right before you came out. Figured something happened.”
She shrugged. “I went up to change. He stayed to have a word with Jackson.”
“Too bad you ditched the red dress. I liked it.”
“Dresses aren’t exactly conducive to walking in the cane. I’m on my way to have a look at it. Thanks for the beer.” She wagged the bottle at him and made ready to leave.
“Does Jackson know you’re out roaming the property this late?”
“He said it was fine. Why?”
“Doesn’t seem too wise, considering the stuff that’s gone on lately.”
“What stuff?”
“Well, the kitchen fire was set. Plus, the arsonist cut all the garden hoses before starting the fire. Casey’s new harvester mysteriously went poof one night. She’s only recently taken delivery of its replacement. Stuff like that.”
He’d managed to stop her cold in her tracks. “The Fontaines have enemies?”
Adam didn’t answer.
“Who’d do such terrible things?”
“Maybe a disgruntled former employee. Casey also caught him in the greenhouse office where she keeps records on her hybrids. Supposedly he confessed to setting the blaze. He’s in jail now.”
“So, if they caught him, I should be okay. You’re trying to scare me, aren’t you.”
“Call it erring on the side of caution. The guy swears someone hired him anonymously. There’s no proof. Even so, I think I’ll mosey along with you to be safe.”
The Secret Daughter Page 4