Doing her best not to listen, Noelani slammed her door and shook the handle to make sure it was locked.
The men were climbing from their respective vehicles about the time she exited the building on the lower level. She caught her breath the moment she glimpsed Adam, backlit by the sun—tall, bronzed and ruggedly handsome, even dressed as he was for work. She wished for a moment that she could sneak him into her suitcase and take him back to Hawaii. Impossible. Adam would no more walk away from his dream of owning Magnolia Manor than she’d give up hers of owning Shiller’s one day.
Jackson noticed her before Adam did. He hailed her and leaned against the Jag, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes as he waited for her to reach them.
“Hi. You don’t look any the worse for spending all night working,” Jackson said. “Remind me before I go that I’ve got some stuff for you. Aunt Esme had Betty fix you a salad. She put it in a small cooler. And she sent a washcloth and towel.” He winked. “If she didn’t consider it an invasion of your privacy, Aunt Esme would’ve packed you clean undies, I’m sure.”
Adam approached the Jag, circled around and climbed in the passenger side without acknowledging Noelani. The slight bothered her, and Jackson noticed.
“What’s with Adam?”
“Do I look psychic? Ask him, why don’t you?”
“I will. On the way home. Did you two have a falling out?”
“Did we have something to fall out about?” Noelani asked sharply.
“Come on, Noelani. It’s not my imagination that Adam watches you like a lovesick Romeo.”
She rolled her eyes. “Brother! You need your eyes checked. I thought you said you were in a rush to go. What else can I tell you about the new program?”
“Aunt Esme will be disappointed to hear you and Adam are on the outs. She’s lost the battle trying to change Casey into a genteel lady. Just yesterday I heard her say if you married Adam, she’d talk you into opening Magnolia Manor for the historic home tour. And then you’d forget all about working at the mill.”
“Ma-rry Adam? Auntie E needs to lay off the mint juleps.”
Jackson grinned. “I promise I won’t tell her you said that. She hates anyone noticing an occasional overindulgence. So, Noelani, I’ve teased you enough. How’s the program going? All right, I assume, or you’d have said so.”
“I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. But it’s working like a dream. If you’ve got no objections, I’ll take a nap during lunch, then spend another night monitoring the whole works. After forty-eight hours with no bugs, I’ll be ready to say we’re home free.”
“Never let it be said I stand between a woman and her work. I’ll be in and out at the house next week. The coalition is meeting with national committee people in New Orleans. Australia is angling for a bigger slice of the European market, as is our neighbor to the southwest. If we can’t block their votes, we may all be planting pecans next spring.”
“Ouch. You don’t really think that’s possible, do you? I know Australia has fine-tuned their mills. They’re forerunners with some innovative systems. In fact, I’ve been talking to Bruce about trying some of their equipment. Wow, Jackson, if they speed production again, it could spell market disaster for all U.S.-grown sugar.”
“Thanks for the prediction of gloom and doom. I didn’t need that, Noelani.”
“You do. So you’ll go into the meeting and talk harder.”
“Yeah, yeah! I’ll do my best to rally growers around the red, white and blue. You haven’t seen me in my cheerleader mode.” Grinning goofily, he made a few rah-rah moves that cracked Noelani up.
She smiled all the way back to her office, in spite of the fact that she’d made a special effort to wave goodbye to Adam and he’d pretended not to see her.
Increasingly restless, Noelani failed at her attempt to nap over lunch. Finally she gave up, grabbed her workout clothes and whiled away an hour at the gym. Given her mood, her assigned kick-boxing opponent never stood a chance. But she did leave the gym energized and somewhat more optimistic.
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Adam saw little of anyone in the family except for Esme, Betty, Tanya and Megan. A couple of nights, well after midnight, he sat out on his porch nursing a beer and watched Noelani roll in. He watched her climb from the Caddy, roll her neck tiredly, then sneak in and rummage through the fridge. He wanted to intercept her, but each time stubborn resistance held him back.
His work was on hold again. The lumber company couldn’t find the cypress he needed to match the dining room flooring. In his spare time, he helped Esme rearrange furniture in the historic portion of the house, which included sending the heavy Oriental rugs out for cleaning. The woman had turned into a whirling dervish preparing for the eventual tours that preceded the Fontaines’ elaborate holiday ball.
Adam didn’t like thinking about the Christmas ball. Noelani had said point-blank she’d be gone by then. Although he hated feeling like a voyeur, he’d taken to hovering in the dark, waiting to catch even the smallest glimpse of her.
Friday, he reworked his bid on Magnolia Manor until he couldn’t look at it any longer. Still, he didn’t turn it in.
Aware that his project at Bellefontaine would be done well before Esme’s upcoming events—and that was taking every possible delay into consideration—Adam used his downtime to seek out other renovations in the area.
Monday of the week following his reluctant decision—to let Noelani go her way while he went his—he met with a prospective client. Shortly before noon, he handed the owners an estimate, and on his way home stopped at the hardware store to pick up replacement chandelier bulbs for Aunt Esme. He noticed a woman about his age ahead of him in the check-out line. She seemed to be eyeing him. She had light-brown eyes and streaked blond hair. He tried to recall if he’d met her through Casey and Nick, or Jackson, but came up blank. She left without speaking, so Adam decided she’d simply been checking him out.
After he’d paid for his bulbs and walked out of the store, the same woman appeared out of nowhere. “Adam Ross, right?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, maybe we’ve met, but I’m afraid I can’t place you.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ve changed a lot. Last time you saw me, I sat in front of you at St. Francis Elementary. Sixth grade. I’m Denise Rochelle.” Shifting her purse and hardware bag, she thrust a hand toward Adam.
Frowning, he took it. “Rochelle? Elementary school was a lifetime ago. I hope I’ve changed from the gangly kid I was then. How did you ever recognize me?”
She laughed. “I have the advantage. I saw you at Fontaine’s mill. I do core sampling there. You looked so familiar, I asked a co-worker for your name. Rose Doucet knew it. She said you’re restoring Bellefontaine.”
“Yes. You probably heard about the fire someone set in their kitchen.”
“Yes, well, Jackson Fontaine and his snotty sister can afford to have their whole mansion rebuilt from the ground up. Unlike the poor folks Duke screwed.”
Her terse comment took Adam aback. He measured the distance to his truck, wondering if she was another crazy bent on harming the Fontaines.
“You still can’t place me, Adam? Our families both fell on hard times. Arlen Rochelle, my pa, used to run Duke’s cookers. There was an accident. Someone said Pa was drunk, but he wasn’t. Fontaine fired him, even though Pa suffered bad burns. We lost our car and our house. Mama literally died of shame—the same year your daddy went missing in ’Nam and your mama took sick. You and I had lunch together and talked about what we’d do if we were bigger.”
Adam studied her as she talked. “You had freckles and reddish pigtails then.” He didn’t say the grown-up Denise looked harder than the sad child he remembered. They reminisced about other classmates for a few minutes. “You say Roland Dewalt eventually bought your family home and the Chenard place as the site for his refinery?” he finally asked.
“Yep. The Fontaines own that now. Roland gave Pa a chance when no one else would. I quit school my senior
year and worked for Dewalt’s, too—until their equipment got so outdated, business fell off.”
“Is your father working for the Fontaines now, or has he retired?”
“Pa’s liver gave out five years ago. But he never worked again—also thanks to Duke Fontaine. He passed the word, and no grower would hire my dad.”
“I’m sorry, Denise. It doesn’t sound as if life treated your father well.”
“I’m sorry your daddy never turned up.”
“Yeah, well, time eventually dulls the pain.”
“Does it?” Denise’s clasped her sack with both hands and glanced away.
Adam shifted his purchase, too, preparing to say goodbye. “Hey, it’s good catching up, but I’ve got to run. I’ve been out all morning and I still have to check on some flooring.”
“Before you get away, Adam, let me jot down my address and phone number. Old friends should keep in touch.”
“Almost everyone I knew as a kid has moved away from here. I’ve been up in Natchez.”
“I’d heard that.” Denise handed him a scrap torn off her bag. “You know, instead of leaving a second meeting to chance, we should set up something firm. Next weekend kicks off the New Iberia Sugar Fete. There’ll be food, drink, fabulous jazz and Zydeco bands in the park. If you don’t already have a date, we could go together. Hang out for old time’s sake.”
“Uh, a couple of weeks ago I, ah, went to the Sugar Fest.”
“Oh, well, the Sugar Fete’s way different. It’s more of a carnival atmosphere. Complete with floats. But I say if you’ve seen one float, you’ve seen ’em all. I go for the music and the dancing. You look like a man who could use a little fun, Adam.”
He smiled, thinking Jackson had said the very same thing the day they rode home from the mill together. “Okay. Sure. Why not?” Adam glanced at the slip of paper, saw he could read it okay, then tucked it in his shirt pocket for safekeeping.
“Really? Hey, great! Friday I work a graveyard shift till 8 a.m. I can change clothes at the mill if you’d like to swing by there and pick me up.”
Mere mention of the mill brought Noelani’s exotic face into focus for Adam. “Uh, no. I…can’t get away that early. How about if I collect you at your place at ten-thirty?”
“Ten? Otherwise we’ll miss some of the best jazz groups. Come earlier if you can. I’ll ice a six-pack. Do you have a preference?”
“Not really. Shall I bring anything?”
“Just yourself and a hearty appetite, big fella.” Denise touched one of his shirt buttons before she wiggled her fingers at him and scampered off.
Adam stood for a moment, wondering why he’d agreed to go out with an almost-stranger. But then, he’d asked Noelani Hana out knowing even less about her. And she’d been the one to insist he circulate.
Driving off, Adam dredged up memories of Denise Rochelle as a sympathetic kid. They’d probably have fun.
At the lumberyard he discovered his planking had come in. It was hard not to get excited by the beauty of the rare wood. Adam couldn’t wait to begin laying the aged cypress, and made arrangements for next-day delivery.
A phone call from the client he’d visited earlier in the day interrupted his cheery whistling. They wanted him to start their renovation the day after he finished the Fontaines’ kitchen. Things were really beginning to look up.
The date with Denise totally slipped Adam’s mind until suppertime the next night. Noelani put in a rare appearance, which served to jog his memory. Adam entered the dining room and stopped dead, surprised to see the whole family gathered, including Casey and Nick. Pulling out a chair, he whispered, “Are we celebrating another birthday? If so, I didn’t get the message.”
Noelani unfolded her napkin. “I asked Aunt Esme that very question when she phoned the mill and said I had to be here tonight. She refused to clue me in as to the reason for our command performance. Where’s Jackson? Does this involve him?”
Megan bounced all over her chair. “Auntie E’s got a s’prise for my daddy and she won’t tell nobody what it is.”
“A surprise for Jackson?” Casey’s interest went up a notch. “How long do you plan to keep us in suspense, Aunt Esme? I can’t, in my wildest imagination, come up with anything involving Jackson that requires so much secrecy.”
Jackson moseyed in and heard them bandying his name about. “Who’s keeping secrets? Megan, did you lose a tooth?”
“No, Daddy. Ask Auntie E. She knows the secret.”
Jackson glanced around at the blank faces as he slid in next to his daughter. “If we’re all in the dark, it must be something outside the family.”
Esme Fontaine rose, her face wreathed in smiles. She moved her plate and picked up a folded letter they’d all missed seeing. “Ripley Spruance dropped by this afternoon. Jackson, this year the growers have voted you King Sucrose.” Esme held up the half glasses she wore on a chain around her neck and read the official decree.
The majority of people at the table looked bewildered. Only Casey rammed an elbow in her brother’s ribs. “Hallelujah, Jackson, you’ve finally been recognized as somebody in Louisiana sugar. Except for that dorky robe and crown, I’m envious as hell.”
“Cassandra!” Esme handed Jackson the letter even as she scolded her niece. “Being selected King Sucrose is a time-honored tradition in our trade. There are precious few traditions left. We must celebrate the way the festival was meant to be celebrated. I had Ripley book us a front table for the 11:00 a.m. presentation. Next Saturday, you will all clear your calendars. We’ll pay homage to Jackson as a family unit.”
“Tell us more about the festival, please, Auntie E,” Noelani begged.
“Wait. First a toast.” Casey tried for a properly contrite expression as she lifted a glass of red burgundy. “The committee will pick you a pretty young woman as Sugar Queen, Jackson. You’ll get to squire her around all day on your arm. Hear, hear!”
Once everyone had clinked glasses, Casey said for Noelani’s benefit, “Usually the king is a much older, more established sugar grower. For that reason, Jackson, I truly salute you.”
“That’s better, Cassandra,” Esme said approvingly. “Noelani, to answer your question, the coronation kicks off a week-long event that recognizes how important sugar is to our state’s economy—although some people see it as little more than an excuse to recycle their Mardi Gras floats. Creoles and Cajuns alike are big partiers. But the festival was designed as a tribute to those who grow and produce sugar.”
“However, I won’t expect y’all to bow and scrape more than once a day,” Jackson said. “As for squiring the queen, Megan’s my best girl. Will someone see she gets a special new dress?”
“I’ll take her shopping,” Tanya volunteered immediately.
Adam realized this was the event Denise Rochelle had invited him to attend.
“Betty.” Esme beckoned the cook, who’d popped in to drop off a steaming dish of shrimp rémoulade.
“Yah?” Betty skidded to a stop a foot short of the door.
“Next week…all week, growers and their wives will drop by to congratulate Jackson. We need to have trays of hors d’oeuvres on hand. I know you weren’t here when Duke was king, but guests are always offered food and drink. Of course you’re invited to the coronation, Betty. Please don’t show up on that horrid motorcycle. I’ll ride to New Iberia with Jackson, Megan and Tanya. Perhaps Cassandra and Nick, or Noelani and Adam will have room for you, Betty.”
Adam cleared his throat. “I, uh, can’t go with the family. I…already have a date for the event.”
All eyes at the table zeroed in on him, especially Noelani’s. She didn’t want to appear curious, but she was dying to know who he had a date with. At the same time, she battled a hard lump that lodged in her throat, making her meal less palatable.
Nick had no compunction about asking Adam to name names. “Spill it, pal. Who’s the lucky woman?”
Adam feigned interest in the shrimp stew Esme had ladled into his
bowl. “I don’t know how lucky she is. I ran into an old friend at the hardware store. Denise Rochelle. We went to the same elementary school.” He’d been about to say she’d asked him out, but he glanced up and saw a flicker of irritation on Noelani’s face. Jealousy? Wouldn’t that be interesting?
When she noticed him watching her, she instantly lowered her eyes.
Esme broke the tension that had begun to swirl between her niece and Adam. “Rochelle? The only family I recall by that name caused my brother prob—but, my goodness. Anyone involved in that unpleasantness is gone by now. Cassandra, if you and Nick invite Viv, and the four of you ride together, perhaps Jackson can drive Duke’s Town Car. That way we’ll have space for Noelani.”
“I’ll get myself there.” Noelani hated the thought of being shuffled around like so much excess baggage. All because Adam had a date.
“Parking is at a premium near the park. It makes sense to double up. Although…” Jackson combed his fingers through Megan’s dark curls. “Snicklefritz here may run out of gas before it’s time for the dance. Festivities go on till 2:00 a.m. Also the growers often hang around to talk. We used to.”
“I won’t run out of gas, Daddy,” Megan insisted. Even as the promise fell from her lips, the child emitted a huge yawn.
“Yeah, sure,” Jackson teased, making everyone laugh.
“As King Sucrose, you’re expected to stay to the end,” Casey pointed out. “It’s considered your kingly duty.”
Folding her napkin, Noelani rose and began to stack her dishes. “Before I go back to the mill, Jackson, I’ll solve one problem. I’ll drive. That way, if Megan gets tired or if anyone else wants to cut out early, I can take them home.”
They all knew she was referring to Aunt Esme, who simply wasn’t as young as she thought.
Adam opened his mouth to volunteer to bring Megan or Esme home so Noelani could stay. He enjoyed good jazz, although he wasn’t crazy about the idea of dancing half the night with a woman who was practically a stranger. But for all Adam knew, maybe Denise hated kids.
The Secret Daughter Page 20