The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  “This is it. I’ll let you have ’em, though. Rufus and me are going for a moonlight spin on my Harley. Unless he chickens out,” she said, jabbing DuPree in his beer belly.

  “I told you, Betty, I’ll go if you let me drive. Otherwise I’d be laughed clean out of Green Water Bayou if any of the guys see me perched on that little ol’ buddy seat.”

  “My bike. I drive.”

  “Aw, dammit it, woman. Think about my image.”

  “Think about mine.” Betty flicked her unlit cigarette into the trees. The two sauntered off, still arguing. Noelani couldn’t help but smile at the unlikely pair.

  “Did you forget which direction you were going?” Adam came up behind her, jolting her out of her reverie. His voice alone left her longing for the camaraderie she’d witnessed between Betty and DuPree. Adam balanced a table on his shoulder.

  “This is déjà vu,” she quipped. “Is that the same table you carried out this morning?”

  “Not quite déjà vu. You’re missing your clipboard. Nick says y’all are gonna have a powwow. What’s that about?”

  “My work schedule at the mill, and maybe devising a plan to catch whoever caused the glitch in the computer program.”

  Adam’s eyes locked with hers for several long, troubled moments. “Is that wise?” he finally ventured. “The police term for that would be sabotage. And folks who mess in treachery of that nature generally aren’t your friendly boy or girl next door.”

  “Or it could be nothing,” she said, brushing aside his concern.

  “Uh-huh,” he drawled. He didn’t sound convinced. “Shoot the dead bolt I installed anytime you’re in the office, will you? And have Jackson get you a cell phone.”

  “I thought you were mad at me, so why do you care?”

  “Damned if I know,” he muttered, hoisting the table higher on his shoulder. “I just do,” he said, loping along the path. She stood there with her mouth open.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NOELANI’S NOSE FOLLOWED the scent of fresh coffee. Casey’s head jerked up when the door opened, but her expectant smile faded the minute she saw who walked in. Although the women had buried the hatchet as far as business was concerned, Casey Devlin remained aloof. Or uneasy. The men hadn’t yet arrived.

  “The coffee smells heavenly.” Noelani helped herself to a mug, poured it full, then added a dollop of cream. “I skipped breakfast and lunch except for two of Betty’s cookies. This is the first I’ve slowed down all day.”

  “Everyone enjoyed the cochon de lait.” Casey stirred sugar into her coffee.

  “Good. I hardly slept a wink last night for worrying.”

  Casey licked her spoon. “You stressed out over a party? Why?”

  “Would you be asking that if it’d flopped?”

  “Touché! I’d have pounced all over you.”

  Noelani fiddled with her cup and sighed. “I’m sure you’d like me to have two heads and a forked tail. But as I told Jackson, nothing any of us does or says will change the circumstances of my birth. So, if you want to hate me, hate me.”

  “I don’t want to hate you. I want to know why Duke put us all in this predicament, dammit! I thought he and Maman had the perfect marriage.”

  “My grandmother blamed it on the menehune. Those are the Hawaiian equivalent of leprechauns. They’re purported to have great magical powers.”

  Casey smiled crookedly. “So, you’re saying I shouldn’t bother placing blame?”

  “Far be it from me to flog you for doing something I’ve indulged in for years.”

  “Weren’t you ever curious about us? Jackson and me, I mean.”

  “I only learned about you when Bruce received Mr. Prescott’s letter. You don’t want to know my first reaction to that, believe me.”

  “Nick insists there are two sides to every coin.” Casey uttered a semichuckle. “I closed my ears when he said it, but damn, he’s right as usual. Speak of the devil, I hear him and Jackson now. I’m glad we had this chat, Noelani. If nothing else, you’ve been incredibly candid. The guys let me vent, but they simply don’t see things the way a woman does. And my good friend Viv shrugs off other people’s opinions. She can’t really understand why I’d be so angry at Duke. I think you can.”

  “Can what?” Nick walked in and dropped tiredly into the vacant chair next to his wife.

  “Nothing. Were your ears burning? I told Noelani you’re always right.”

  A grin slashed his very masculine face. “Hey, deal with it, princess.”

  Jackson set a steaming mug in front of Nick and pulled out a chair between the women. “Go ahead and crow. She admitted it in front of witnesses, Nick.”

  “Before we start,” Noelani said, turning to Jackson. “We ran off today and Megan’s feeling neglected. I told Tanya to let her know you’d bring a surprise from town tomorrow. Anything is okay. Kids love little trinkets. Even small gifts say I care to a kid.”

  The other three gaped at her. She frowned at each. “You think a gift has to be expensive? Oh—you obviously think I’m presumptuous to commit money we can ill afford. Don’t they have dollar stores here?”

  “It’s not the money,” Casey said. “I don’t know about Jackson, but I’m amazed you’d bother with Megan.”

  “Why? Because you think I’m a bitch? Since there’s only family here, let’s put our cards on the table. What, exactly, do you all think of me? Expect of me?”

  Jackson stirred uncomfortably. Nick kept his eyes trained on Casey’s face. She clasped and unclasped her hands around her mug. No one spoke for a moment, then finally, she cleared her throat. “Okay, here goes. Jackson and I have been involved in the day-to-day running of Bellefontaine since we were teens. To say we were horrified to learn that Duke would divide it with a stranger—at a time when we were already devastated by the news of our parents’ deaths—is an understatement. You accused me of hating you and I said I didn’t. But you’re still something of a mystery. Bitch might be a stronger term than I’d use, but I have called you a gold digger. And I assumed you couldn’t care less about any of us—including Megan. After all, you came here asking us to bleed our funds to buy you out. That’s the truth as I see it. Take it or leave it.”

  Noelani didn’t shy away from Casey’s spitting eyes. “If my goal was to bleed Bellefontaine dry, I’d have hired a lawyer and demanded you liquidate your holdings to pay me. And I would’ve had that right. But from the outset I agreed to wait until the crop’s in. I’m volunteering my time and experience to help speed the process. As far as my being a mystery, I notice you don’t ask a lot about my past. I grew up walking, talking, living sugarcane. I’ve never pictured myself doing anything else. One day, I hope to buy out Bruce Shiller.”

  Jackson glanced at first one woman, then the other. “You may kill me for saying so, but you’re both a chip off the old block. Duke faced adversity head-on and he never backed down from an argument. Thank God I’m more like Maman. A negotiator sort. It strikes me that we’re all reasonably intelligent people who have basically the same short-term goal. Namely, get this year’s sugar to market.”

  Casey settled back in her chair. “Agreed.”

  Noelani nodded, and Nick remained quietly sipping his coffee. “We don’t have to love one another to accomplish that end,” Noelani said.

  “We do have to present a united front to the employees,” Jackson shot back.

  “I’ll buy that,” Casey said. “Noelani impressed me today in an area we’re deficient in, Jackson. I can run a canned program to track growth of my hybrids, and Jackson, you have a layman’s knowledge of computers. Noelani has a computer science degree.”

  “And one in chemistry,” she said with a lack of modesty. “I have to say I like the way you two have handled a rash of setbacks that would intimidate a lot of others.”

  “There’s your common ground,” Nick said, putting in his two cents’ worth. “Respect and a united goal is more than a lot of marriages start with. Not ours,” he rushed to say whe
n Casey came forward in her chair.

  Leaning his elbows on the table, Jackson rubbed his hands together. “Duke oversaw the whole operation by himself. Casey elevated Len Forsen to field manager not long ago, in order to devote more time to her hybrids. I’ll tell old-timers at the mill that I’m investing my time and energy in rebuilding the refinery, which is why we’ve elected to let Noelani manage the mill.”

  “Jackson, that’s brilliant.” Casey rose, yawned and tugged Nick to his feet. “It sets the stage, allowing Noelani to poke her nose into everyone’s station. I hate to sound wimpy, but frankly, I’m beat. I’ve gotta go home to bed.”

  As if to confirm the lateness of the hour, the old grandfather clock in the corner of the kitchen chimed 3:00 a.m.

  “I’ll only keep you another minute,” Jackson said, stalling their departure. “Next weekend is the Sugar Fest.” He elaborated for Noelani’s benefit. “The West Baton Rouge Museum is housed in an early 1800s French Creole home, where they’ve preserved the history of sugar. The fest is designed to educate locals and tourists alike regarding the importance of what we do. I told the coordinator we’d all be happy to attend and support the festival this year in Duke and Maman’s absence.”

  “Murray left me a note today asking if we’re participating.” Casey sighed. “Can’t Aunt Esme represent Bellefontaine? She has all those period costumes she wears during the historic home tours. She and Maman loved re-creating yesteryear. It’s not me, Jackson. The New Iberia festival is more my style. I deal better with the Mardi Gras atmosphere.”

  “I know.” Jackson expelled a breath. “But I want Megan involved. Kids get a kick out of seeing how they cook the cane in open kettles the way they used to. I think she’ll enjoy the working replica of the old mill, too. Noelani, you’ll find it fascinating, I’m sure.”

  “Sounds like it. I’ve never been to a museum devoted to our industry.”

  “Take Adam,” Nick suggested. “He loves poking around among moldy antiques.”

  Noelani felt herself blush without meaning to. “I doubt he’ll spare the time from his work. But count on me. Just draw me a map. You guys have a ton of events associated with cane harvest, don’t you? It’s big business on Maui, but that’s all it is. And even that’s dwindling,” she said, a certain sadness creeping into her tone. Rousing slightly, she turned to Jackson. “I probably should follow you to the mill tomorrow in your mother’s car. That way, you won’t have to hang around waiting for me.”

  “You’re right. I have a full day of appointments on my calendar.”

  “Ouch. Now you have to rearrange your schedule to introduce me around the mill. To say nothing of finding time to buy Megan some little gift. I’ll run out during lunch hour, if you’d like. It seems the least I can do, since I volunteered on your behalf.”

  “No. In fact, I need to get in the habit of bringing her surprises now and again. I always provided money for her clothes and toys, but I can’t be sure Janis told Megan, or that she spent the money for what it was meant. I visited Megan when I could—or rather, when her mom said it was convenient.”

  “You tried, Jackson. That’s to be commended.” Whether Noelani intended to let her expression reflect her old resentments or not, it did.

  Casey immediately flew to her father’s defense. “Duke sent support money every month. His account logs every payment to your mother. And Janis at least allowed Jackson to be in Megan’s life. You yourself admit your mom wouldn’t even talk to you about Duke, let alone encourage contact. Maybe it wasn’t his fault.”

  “Anela died fifteen years ago,” Noelani said. “Bruce notified Duke. He more or less told Bruce it suited his purposes to have me living half a continent away. Not that I’d have come here if he’d begged me on bended knee.” But of course she would have. She was the only one who did know that well-kept secret. She’d have given anything if the man who’d fathered her had thrown her the smallest crumb of affection.

  “Here we go again,” Jackson said, slicing a hand through the air. “Sniping at one another over things in the past. Things out of our control. Noelani, we won’t leave the house until seven tomorrow. All this arguing makes me realize I need to cement a relationship with my daughter before it’s too late.”

  “I’ll be ready. If I don’t make it down for breakfast, don’t worry. I sometimes prefer an extra half hour of sleep over food.” Inclining her head ever so slightly at Casey and Nick, she set her mug on the sideboard and strolled out.

  SHE DID WAKE UP EARLY ENOUGH to go down for breakfast. Mainly because the prospect of immersing herself in the mill excited her.

  Though they were all sleepy-eyed, everyone sat around the table. Megan and Tanya were on either side of Jackson, regaling him with tales of cochon de lait and the parts he’d missed. Adam and Aunt Esme sat at the opposite end of the trestle table. They, too, were deep in conversation. The way Toodles licked his chops, Noelani figured Esme had fed him a tidbit off her plate, as she often did but swore she didn’t.

  Esme noticed Noelani first. Or rather she noticed the frayed jeans, hiking boots and a faded red T-shirt Noelani had on. Work gloves also poked out of her back pocket. “Sakes alive, child, there’s no need for you to help clean up from the cochon de lait. Our gardeners have already seen to that. Or else they will shortly.”

  “Jackson didn’t tell you I’m starting work at the mill today?” Noelani picked up a mug and went about her routine of filling it with coffee and adding cream.

  Esme glared at Jackson. “It’s not bad enough that Cassandra sees fit to disgrace the family showing up in town dressed like a field hand? Now you’ve corrupted Noelani?”

  “No one’s corrupted me, Auntie E. I’ve practically run Shiller’s mill since I graduated from college. It’s what I do.”

  Esme sniffed. “Lord only knows what this world’s coming to. In my day a woman had soft hands a man wanted to hold. And skin he wanted to kiss. You and Cassandra, your complexions will be boot leather before you’re forty.”

  “That’s what good hand creams are for.”

  “Humph! Homes like ours need a woman devoted to keeping them beautiful and running like clockwork. I don’t advocate that women sit idle, mind you, but men’s work should be left to men. What’s wrong with you, Jackson? Or Nick? Or you, Adam? Why would you encourage such foolishness?”

  Jackson smiled. “How did I get drawn into this conversation? I’m talking with Megan and Tanya about the cochon de lait.”

  Adam drew back. “Don’t involve me in this feud, Auntie E.”

  “Now, Adam. When we first discussed the kitchen renovation, I recall you telling me that whoever you marry will make maintaining Magnolia Manor a top priority.”

  “Brother, talk about archaic thinking!” Noelani snorted inelegantly.

  Unmoved by her theatrics, Adam said patiently, “You’re jumping to conclusions, Noelani. I wasn’t putting women down but elevating them to the status they deserve. If you knew the history of the South, you’d see that our women were capable and strong. During the Civil War they fed the troops, bandaged the wounded and more. Yet in the process of caring for their menfolk, none ever lost her dignity or beauty.”

  “We’re not in a war, Adam. During World War II, women in Hawaii did all those things. Plus they flew planes, serviced engines and reported activity of enemy aircraft.”

  Esme daintily broke a buttered biscuit in fourths. “The difference, Noelani, is that after the Second World War, women continued to work outside the home. They quit teaching their daughters to quilt, play the piano or set a proper table. Today they hire virtual strangers to fulfill a wife and mother’s role. If the money a woman earns goes to pay those expenses, what’s the point?”

  Noelani gathered her ammunition to fire back, but Tanya interrupted. “I agree with Miz Esme. What woman, given the opportunity to be the queen bee of a hive like Bellefontaine, would drive miles on the freeway every day to…say, get all grungy in the fields or equally grubby working in the sugar mill
?”

  Tanya was so obvious in the way she batted her big eyes at Jackson. Opening and closing her mouth twice, Noelani finally decided there was simply no way to combat people who didn’t want to understand that modern marriages were partnerships and that equality meant women had choices. “Uh, Jackson, my watch says five after seven. Last night you said we should get under way by seven.”

  “Right.” Rising, he picked up his plate and prepared to carry it and his mug to the screened-in kitchen porch. “Adam, my friend, all I can say is you’re either a brave, brave man, or one who places zero value on his life. The only way I’d venture a comment on this subject would be if I wore a full suit of armor. Even then, I’d have second thoughts.” Jackson clapped Adam on the back and left, chortling.

  Noelani refilled her mug and left, period. She was surprised when Adam followed her outside. “Adam, Jackson made a good point. If you’ve come out to continue the argument, it’ll be one-sided.” She juggled her mug while she fished car keys from the tote she’d slung over her shoulder.

  Adam relieved her of the mug. “Why don’t we just let Esme ramble. It’s obvious she misses the way life used to be when she was growing up at Bellefontaine. I think most of us occasionally wish we could turn back the clock.”

  “Yes—occasionally. But in Hawaii I saw women Aunt Esme’s age play eighteen holes of golf and then go dancing. Eighty-year-old women run marathons and swim the English Channel. We can be far more than domestic creatures.”

  “I agree.” Passing back her mug, Adam slipped the key from her hand and bent to unlock her door. He opened it with a flourish, stepped aside to give her room to climb in, then he returned the key. “I really didn’t come out after you to continue a pointless argument.”

  “No? What then?”

  “Before you arrived for breakfast, Jackson told everyone about the museum’s weekend event. I’m not altogether sure what takes place, but I gather it’s a fair they have every year to commemorate the history of sugar in this parish. I thought it sounded like something you’d enjoy. I wondered if you’d care to go with me. If so, I’ll find out more about it.”