The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  Just when she was prepared to cut him out of her life, he had to come up with an offer of this sort. He knew she’d be interested in anything to do with sugar. But, did he also know how much she detested going to new places alone?

  “Last night, during our meeting, Jackson talked a little bit about the Sugar Fest. I would like to go. Are you sure it’s something that would interest you, though?” Then she remembered Nick’s saying that Adam loved poking through antiques.

  “If you’re there, how could it not interest me, sugar pie?”

  “Adam…it’s comments like that—” She broke off. “Never mind. I’m beginning to see through your southern nonsense. Saturday or Sunday? And what time?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d be working at the mill on Saturday, so I thought Sunday. Jackson said he asked Betty to prepare them a picnic. Why don’t we do the same.”

  “A picnic? In this weather? It’s ten after seven and already too muggy to breathe.”

  “There’s a cooling trend forecast for the weekend. Even if we have to eat in the truck with the air running, it’ll be different. Fun.”

  “Okay. And thanks for the invite. Goodness, there goes Jackson. The way that guy drives, I’ll have to step on it to catch up. I don’t think he even saw me. Drat, he must think I’ve gone ahead.” She wedged her mug into the holder and thrust the key in the ignition with her right hand while jerking shut the heavy Caddy door with her left.

  “Hold on. What’s the rush? Since the object is for Jackson to introduce you around the mill, he’s not going to start without you.”

  Feeling the car surge under her foot, Noelani flexed her fingers on the wheel and hauled in a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m suddenly very nervous. What if the mill workers don’t like me, and some long-trusted employee complains to Jackson?”

  Adam reached through the open window and feathered his fingers through her hair. “People won’t show open resentment. You’re part of the family, Noelani.”

  Noelani read between the lines, understanding what Adam hadn’t said. That employees who held any resentment for the Fontaines might act behind the scenes. Covertly, like wiping out a computer code—or setting fire to the mansion.

  He leaned in the window and nibbled on her lips. Pulling back slightly, he murmured, “I didn’t say that to frighten you more. Only so you’ll be cautious.” Straightening, Adam held her gaze as he retreated and tucked his hands loosely in his back pockets.

  Briefly, she had second thoughts about going. Then her stomach dropped back into place and her legs stopped shaking enough for her to press the gas pedal. Still, her fingers shook when she gave a semblance of a goodbye wave. She was miles down the highway before her heart stopped pounding and her lips no longer tasted the whisper of Adam’s kiss.

  That man. She’d never met anyone who blew her good intentions all to bits the way Adam Ross did.

  She reached the mill later than planned and was forced to fall into line between a row of three-quarter-ton trucks pulling cane trailers up to a window where the trailers were weighed and core samples taken.

  Jackson stood near the scale house, chatting with two men. One wore bibbed overalls, the other had on splotched coveralls. His hands were gnarled and his face bore traces of grease. He probably worked with some of the mill machinery.

  Her half brother looked almost relieved to see her drive in. He waved for her to turn in the opposite direction from the slow-moving trucks. She saw the Jag, and that he’d left a space next to it for her to park.

  “I thought you were in front of me,” Jackson called, trotting up to her car. “When I didn’t see you anyplace, I was worried that you might not remember how to get here.”

  “I have a good memory for directions. If I go someplace once, I can usually get back there on my own. Frankly, I’m glad all the worry I saw on your face was because you were afraid you’d lost me. I saw you talking with one of the mill employees, and for a minute I was afraid something else had gone wrong.”

  “It did. But it’s nothing major. Well, at this point anything is major if it involves money.” He half laughed, half groaned. “That was Wally Minton. He’s in charge of waste management. I’m talking about our bagasse, not sanitary waste.”

  “Yesterday I noticed the stockpiles. Most have sat there awhile. How are you marketing waste, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “We burn bagasse to fire our cookers, like every other sugar mill I’ve ever visited. Wally came to report that the flu’s been hitting us the last couple of weeks. He has two men down. They shovel waste into the carts that dump into our fire pits. So as soon as I introduce you around, I need to run past the union hall and see if I can hire some day laborers. Either that, or Wally says we’ll have to let one of the fires die. I’d come and shovel, but I’ve got a bunch of meetings today.”

  “I’m ready anytime you are. Jackson—getting back to my question. Even with burning, aren’t your bagasse piles growing? I’m wondering… Well, surely Duke explored other avenues.”

  “Like what? I’m not sure he did.”

  “For one, we bag and sell it to local nurseries. It makes fair mulch. We also installed a system, and during peak production, Shiller’s sells excess energy to the city at a reduced rate. A project I’d begun exploring before I left is a method used in Australia. They have quite a lucrative side business marketing their bagasse as home insulation.”

  “Hmm. I read about that in one of the monthly journals. I think Duke decided it was too costly to implement. He thought we’d be better off to buy and renovate the refinery.”

  “Maybe so. At the moment the refinery is an albatross. The bagasse sits there doing nothing. With a mulch bagger, the plastic bags work out to a few pennies each. I know you’re busy as all get out, but I’d be happy to phone around and compile costs. It’s a no-brainer to operate. You can pull people in off the street and teach them the job.”

  “Get me some figures, then. Although I thought you were going to devote your time to writing a program to speed up our creeper feeders.”

  She patted her tote. “I brought the disks here for the program I wrote for Shiller’s. Remember I told you yesterday? You both use the same computer system.”

  “I forgot. Okay, have at it, Noelani.” Reaching around her, he opened a door. “We’ll start your introductions in the core sample room. Don’t expect much chitchat from these women. The trucks are rolling in hot and heavy today. They’ll be busy collecting samples, weighing them, cooking them, extracting the brix and measuring the percentage of sucrose in each batch.”

  “Jackson, I’ve been around a sugar mill my entire life. I cut my teeth on core sample counters. Just establish my presence so the next time anyone sees my face, no one calls the cops and has me thrown off the property.”

  He grinned, and for the first time all morning, Noelani saw his shoulders relax.

  “You run how many shifts in the core room?” she asked a group of busy women.

  “Two,” the youngest of the women said. Noelani tried to store their names, which were Rose, Denise and Sue Ann. “We rotate shifts to keep fresh,” Rose volunteered.

  Noelani removed a notebook from her tote bag. She jotted notes to remind herself to come back and meet the second shift, saying to Jackson, “They seem nice.”

  “Rose has a brother my age. We used to pal around. Sue Ann’s worked here since she got out of high school. Denise didn’t. Her dad used to work for us, but he had a problem with booze. Denise worked for Roland Dewalt, instead. When he closed the refinery, Duke offered to hire her. She’d recently lost her dad, and Duke felt sorry for her. She’s working out, as far as I can tell.”

  “Adam said, or rather I understand he learned from Murray, that the mill only operates twelve hours a day.”

  “Sixteen. We run two full eight-hour shifts. That’s the only way we can keep ahead of the tonnage. Even pushing with every ounce of oomph we’ve got, there are times our Dextran readings show some inversion. I guess I
don’t have to tell you that when bacteria sets in, we’re paying for cane we have to scrap.”

  “Speeding the feeders will give some relief. How are you doing at the back end of the operation?”

  “I’ll have to show you the refinery I’ll be refurbishing. It’s about five miles down the road. It and the mill are equal distances from Bellefontaine. Eight miles at most. Having our own refinery will cut down on the warehouse space we need. We’re storing way too much raw sugar. Every morning the refinery lets us know how many batches they’ll accept. Currently I’m renting warehouses for millions of pounds. Sometimes, we end up paying rent on empty buildings.”

  “Yeah. That’s how we do it at Shiller’s, too.”

  They traversed the noisy building from side to side and back to front. Finally after two hours, Jackson said he thought she’d met everyone on first shift.

  “Have you got time for coffee, or do you need to take off? Betty dug around in the cupboards and found a six-cup coffeepot. I brought it to use in the office. I saw there’s a sink. I’ll run back to the car to grab it and a few other things I collected.”

  “You do know mill workers run on caffeine,” he said, laughing. “Sorry, I have a meeting I’m probably going to be late for now.”

  “Will you swing past again this evening to introduce me to the second shift, or do you think the rumor mill will have announced the news?”

  “It’s up to you whether or not I come back. People accepted you well, I thought.”

  “You’re right, everyone seemed friendly. No one threw darts, anyway. I guess I can handle meeting the next crew on my own.”

  “I know you expected flak.” He paused. “What all did you write in your little green book? I saw how discreetly you logged notes each time we changed areas.”

  “I think best when everything is cataloged and sequenced. In high school, a teacher steered me toward computer science in college, saying my mind operates in logical steps.” She pulled a baseball cap from her bag and stuffed her long hair up under the cap. “Yuck, I should have done that sooner. My hair’s already sticky.”

  “You’ve been away from a mill for a few weeks. You’ve forgotten the sugar floating in the air. You’ll get back into the swing in a day or two.”

  She nodded. “I’ll walk out with you. I probably need two trips to haul in boxes.”

  At his sidelong glance, she smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, I’m not moving in permanently. No pictures for the wall or pink carpet or anything. I have blank disks, my favorite pens, the coffeepot and various odds and ends. Frankly, I don’t know why Bruce shipped me so much, but since he did, I like the idea of surrounding myself with a few familiar things.”

  “No problem. Put pictures of your family on the desk, if you want.”

  They’d walked outside and he’d immediately donned sunglasses. Noelani could no longer see his eyes, which was a shame, since she had no idea what compelled her to say, “You and Casey are the only family I have left. Oh, and Aunt Esme. But I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate me lifting her photos from the Fontaine archives.”

  A moment passed during which neither spoke. Jackson finally cleared his throat. “I know you think Casey and I are callous for not asking more about your mom or your past. The truth is, I had Shelburne order a background check on you between the time I turned up your birth certificate and when he sent you the letter via Shiller.”

  “That’s callous.” Whatever tiny hope she’d developed over the past weeks of developing some kind of future, be it by phone or e-mail, with her half siblings, evaporated in the hot rays of the Louisiana sun.

  “There was a lot at stake, Noelani. Can you honestly say that, if our situations had been reversed, you wouldn’t have done the same?”

  “We’ll never know, will we? So, what dirty little secrets did you uncover—or think you uncovered?”

  “None. It wasn’t that kind of check.”

  “What other kind is there? I’m sure you looked into my bank account to find out whether or not I had any outstanding debt. Also what I did for fun, maybe even who I dated. Tell me, were you disappointed to learn I lead such a boring life?”

  “The opposite. Noelani, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. But since you’re offering to help us out at the mill, I thought you deserved my honesty.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said flippantly. “I’m only here until January. Then I’ll take my money and run. I’ve been saving for years, hoping to buy Bruce out when he retires. The background check you did—is that why Casey considers me a gold digger? Or were you two worried I’d try to muscle my way into taking over Bellefontaine? You were! Casey’s surprise when I told her I’d worked at a sugar mill was pure baloney. You knew exactly what my job was at Shiller’s.”

  “I did. But Casey was so broken up, I didn’t share the information with her. Shelburne and I discussed a lot of possibilities. Remember, we were operating in the dark. We assumed you knew Bellefontaine existed. Shiller certainly did. After all, Duke funneled money for Anela’s maintenance and yours through him. I even thought it was possible he’d groomed you so the two of you could take over our operation.”

  Noelani laughed, but with scant humor. “I’m surprised you didn’t blame me for the kitchen fire and the harvester going missing,” she said, folding her arms.

  Jackson looked so guilty so fast, it jolted her. “You suspected me of underhanded, even criminal, acts? I can’t believe it!”

  “I’ll admit it crossed my mind when I confronted Shelburne with your birth certificate, and he said Duke and Maman had changed their will to include you. But it wasn’t anything I mentioned to Shel or Casey. It was all my silly notion.”

  “Are you sure you want to trust me now? Maybe I’m more clever than you think,” she said scathingly.

  “Can’t we clear the air? Spending time with you, I can see I was off base. Eventually, I hope you’ll forgive me. I swear it wasn’t personal. Casey and I saw our world collapsing. I grasped at any and every straw that might tell me why.”

  “Now, that statement I can identify with. My world’s been upset a few times. It’s hard to view anything rationally when that happens.” Noelani rubbed her hands back and forth across her elbows, all the while studying the toes of her boots. At last, she sighed and stuck out her right hand. “Truce? I pride myself on acting mature in most circumstances. I’m afraid I haven’t managed so well when it comes to anyone named Fontaine. I’ll try to change, if you will.”

  Jackson clasped her hand in both of his. “I’d like to say this will be the last time we’ll ever clash swords. I’m not that naive, however. Not anymore. I probably ought to have coffee with you, so we can lay any other ghosts to rest. Except that my first meeting is with our bank president. He’s balking over extending our line of credit. I really need to convince him the three of us are united.”

  “Will he contact me? Shoot, even if he does, Jackson, he won’t find any crack in our facade. Not from me.”

  “Good. And thanks, Noelani. If we can make it over these next four months or so, I predict we’ll be home free.”

  “Music to my ears.” She watched him climb into the Jag and wave. “Hey!” she called. “Don’t forget to buy Megan something before you go home.”

  He nodded that he’d heard and flashed her a thumbs-up.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FOUR DAYS INTO NOELANI’S venture as mill manager, she arrived home around midnight to a pitch-dark house. Ravenous after having squandered her lunch hour at a gym she’d discovered not far from the mill, she made a pit stop at the refrigerator in the partially renovated kitchen, where she’d stored a few food items.

  She didn’t need to turn on a light, but merely juggled her tote while rummaging in the cheese drawer. All at once light flooded the room. Noelani shot straight up, banging her head on the shelf above the drawer. Spinning, she squeaked, “Adam! Holy cow, you scared me out of my wits. Why are you prowling the house at this hour?”

  “I m
ight ask you the same,” he said, stepping fully into the room. “Are you just coming in, or are you scaring up breakfast before you leave again?” Sleepy-eyed and shirtless, he wore shapeless cotton pants with ripped pockets that might have passed at one time as cargo shorts.

  “I’m just getting home. Last night, during the late shift, a couple of departments had accidents. One brought production to a halt. The other severely curtailed progress. Tonight, I decided to stay late and study the sites where the problems occurred. Now, let’s hear your excuse for sneaking up on me in the dark and frightening me out of ten years’ growth.”

  Shrugging, he propped the four-foot piece of one-by-two he’d been holding against a corner cabinet. “I couldn’t sleep. My quarters are hotter than hell tonight. I’d been watching TV and got up to adjust the window air conditioner. I saw a light bobbing in the kitchen and was afraid maybe a friend of Broderick’s had come back to take another stab at the job he botched.”

  “I didn’t see any light bobbing.” She glanced uneasily over her shoulder and into the dim recesses of a kitchen in various stages of repair.

  “It was probably your shadow I saw as you searched through the refrigerator. Remember, I was looking through two sets of beveled windows.”

  “Ah. Well, I’m sure glad you turned on the light and identified it was me before you bopped me over the head with that big stick.”

  One side of his mouth quirked a little. “I couldn’t find anything heavier, but believe me I wanted the biggest weapon possible, just in case you were somebody messing with all my hard work. Which leads me to ask—what were the accidents at the mill? Have you notified Jackson?”

  She shrugged. “They could be nothing. When you work with machinery day in and day out, stuff happens. People get careless. If I’d found any reason to suspect otherwise, of course I would’ve called Jackson. In this instance, I decided not to worry him.”