The Secret Daughter

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Yes,” she whispered, her throat so dry that was as loud as she could manage.

  Stiffening, Adam straightened away from the desk. “Say that again?” His lips barely moved.

  Jumping up, Noelani rounded the desk. She threw her arms around his neck, heedless of the fact her wet jeans dripped muck all over Adam’s good boots. “I said yes, I agree to your partner—”

  The rest of the word was smothered under his lips. He swept her off her feet with a mind-numbing kiss. Swinging her in circles, he didn’t set her down again until they were both reeling with laughter.

  The first to float back to earth, Adam grabbed her chapped hands. “Are you sure about this, Noelani? We haven’t discussed how this will affect a future you’ve had your heart set on for God knows how long.”

  “I…I’m sure.” Anything she might’ve added was cut short by her phone. Ignoring the ring for a moment, she implored Adam, “If you don’t get down to the courthouse and file your forms, you’ll miss your chance. I break for supper at seven. Come back, and we’ll have an hour to talk and plan. Maybe we could go somewhere away from the mill.”

  “I think we should talk now.” But the phone kept ringing, and then two workmen appeared at the door. Giving up, Adam crossed the room. “I will be back. That’s a promise. Seven sharp.”

  Nodding, Noelani smiled at the men and raised a hand as she reached for the phone. She jerked it up just as it stopped ringing. “C’est la vie,” she muttered. “Fine, hang up! Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

  “The time clock messed up and punched us out as a.m., not p.m. workers. Joe fixed it, but he said you had to initial the error.”

  “I wish all my problems were this simple.” She signed their cards and sent them on their way.

  Since her caller had apparently given up, Noelani decided this was the perfect opportunity to phone Bruce. He deserved to hear her change in plans directly from her. She hoped he’d understand, since she’d pestered him forever about buying Shiller’s when he retired.

  “Midori? It’s me. Is Bruce in? If so, tell him I won’t be put off today. Say it’s a life-or-death situation. No…don’t. That’s not fair. Say it’s crucial I reach him.”

  She doodled wedding bells on her calendar while she waited. At last the line crackled and Bruce’s said, “Noelani? Midori said you sounded funny. This better be good. You interrupted my morning nap.” He laughed in his old, jovial manner.

  “Bruce, I don’t quite know how to tell you this, so I’ll jump in with both feet as usual. I’m not coming back to Maui. Before you say anything, I know I’ve pleaded and begged to buy you out. But…it’s a long story. The short version is, Adam Ross asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

  Bruce’s whoop of delight almost broke her eardrum. “Can’t tell you how relieved that makes me. I’ve sidestepped your calls all week. I was offered a crackerjack deal by the truck farmers, kid. I really wanted to accept, but I’ve dreaded breaking the news to you.”

  “Oh, Bruce. I’m happy for you, but sad for the villagers who depend on Shiller’s for their livelihood. Plus, if you quit, that virtually spells the end of sugar on our island.”

  “I’ve devoted my life to raising cane. Truth is, I’ve lost money hand over fist the last five years. Shipping from here is no longer cost-effective. And expanded truck farms will employ most of our people. I have that in writing.”

  “Good. Quitting can’t be easy for you, Bruce. I’ll try not to make it harder.”

  “You’re like my daughter. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you. But I couldn’t let you struggle like I have, either. So, when’s the wedding? Maybe I’ll hop a plane and walk you down the aisle, if that’d be okay with you.”

  Tears sprang to Noelani’s eyes. She swiped at them to no avail. In a raw voice, she said, “We haven’t set a date, but I’d like that. I’ve missed you and Midori, and the others so much. Bruce, will I ever stop being homesick?”

  “Honey, this is your chance for a new beginning. Grab it with both hands and hold on tight. Lord knows, sugar is a hard way to make a living.” As Bruce got choked up, too, they ended the call, promising to talk soon.

  Saddened by Bruce’s news, yet also feeling freer for having cut the ties, Noelani decided that if she finished her work, she might be able to leave early. She and Adam could properly toast their future together.

  She tried to phone him on his cellular. Every time she dialed, she got a busy signal. Finally, she gave up. Her desk phone rang before she could call Bellefontaine and ask Aunt Esme or Tanya to find Adam for her. Thinking it might be him, she yanked the receiver up again. “Adam? Is that you?”

  “No. It’s Mike Arceneaux from the chem lab. I hate to bother you, Ms. Hana, but this is the third day in a row I’ve noticed what appears to be a fairly substantial discrepancy between the polariscope readings on some core samples and the end figures on the clarity of juice being spun out by our evaporator.”

  “Are you positive you’re comparing results on the same cane?”

  “Absolutely,” he said a shade defensively.

  “Mike, it’s not your work I’m questioning, but whether or not there could be a mix-up in labeling core samples.”

  “I think that’s next to impossible. These samples all come from Casey Fontaine…er…Devlin’s hybrid stock. Instead of being labeled with the truck number, her hybrids carry a special code. It’s a tried-and-true system, Ms. Hana. One we’ve used with success since Miss Casey first began planting hybrids.”

  “What you’re telling me is…these aren’t honest mistakes.”

  “No, ma’am. If it hadn’t been the hybrids, I might not have noticed the problem as quickly. Those codes jump off the page, so I began to see a pattern.”

  She clapped a hand to her forehead and muttered something not at all ladylike. “Mike, this is a serious charge. Casey’s family. Before I accuse her of padding core samples to beef up her quality, I’ll need solid black-and-white proof.”

  “I can show you proof. But that’s the really odd part of this whole deal. The cane is spinning out at nearly twice the clarity as she’s receiving credit for, based on her samples.”

  “What? That makes no sense. Let me get this straight. She’s personally losing money on every load?”

  “Exactly. Which is why I phoned you instead of asking another tech to recheck my calculations. Frankly, there’s no explanation I can see.”

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming up. Wait. Give me five minutes. I have one phone call to make. You did the right thing in notifying me, Mike. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but I have a secondary degree in chemistry. I’ll be your only backup until we get some answers. For now, let’s keep this to ourselves.”

  “You’ve got it, Ms. Hana. See you soon.”

  More worried than she’d want to let on to an employee, Noelani tried again to reach Adam. This time a recording came on saying he was unavailable. She slammed down the phone and rubbed her face. Should she notify Jackson?

  And tell him what?

  Well, she could at least alert him to expect trouble. She yanked up the receiver twice and set it back in its cradle. Why upset him when it could be an identification error or something equally simple?

  Gathering pencils, a notepad and a calculator, she made her decision to recheck all of Mike’s figures before bothering Jackson. And as for Adam, it didn’t look as if she’d be leaving early tonight, anyway, so she might as well stop trying to reach him and catch up with him when he put in an appearance.

  The labs were half a level above her office, all the way at the end of the highest catwalk. Whoever had constructed the mill had cleverly sheltered the lab from the boilers, vats, centrifuges and such. As a rule Noelani wouldn’t worry about the lab’s isolation. But since her fall, she took great care on the stairs. Shifting the things she carried, she firmly grasped the rail before ascending.

  Mike appeared to be alone in the lab, but that wasn’t unusual. The techs often staggered shif
ts to keep from tripping over one another in their compact quarters.

  “Ms. Hana, I’m glad you came so soon. I forgot it’s my turn to pick up my daughter from her dance class—it lets out at seven. If I take off now, that gives me half an hour to reach the studio. She’s not very old, and I hate to leave her standing outside in the dark. The studio’s not in the best part of town.”

  “By all means, go.” Noelani set down the things she’d brought and glanced at her watch. “I had no idea it was so late. If you’ve left everything out, I shouldn’t have any difficulty finding where you first ran across the problem. I’ll double-check your figures.”

  “I pulled the core reports that correspond to data fed into our computers from the cooling tanks. Both batches are here.” He grabbed his jacket off the chair. “Do you want me to come back after I drop Ginny at home? Ginny’s my daughter.”

  “No. But thanks, Mike. Depending on what I find, our next step may be to have someone check calibration on the polariscopes in the core-sample room. But if you don’t mind, would you do me a favor as you head out?”

  “Be happy to. What do you need?”

  “I’m expecting a visitor in my office at seven. I’ll jot him a note I’d like you to tape to my door. It’ll save me leaving my work here to run down and get him.”

  “I understand. I don’t mind telling you, this situation has me stumped. Duke hired me straight out of college. I’ve turned up occasional mistakes in the nine years I’ve worked here. Human error. Nothing like this. Oh, if you’re hunting for the tape dispenser, it’s in my top drawer.”

  Noelani folded the note she’d scribbled and printed Adam’s name in bold letters. Running a piece of tape up each side so there’d be less danger of its falling off the door, she handed the message to Mike. “Then, you got along with my fa—Duke?”

  “He was a good man. A fair one. He visited every post at the mill at least once a day. Yvette, my wife, had a rough second pregnancy. The doc did an emergency C-section at eight months, and Yvette and the baby were both hospitalized for a long time. Duke gave me three months off and never docked my pay. He wouldn’t admit it, but I think he personally paid part of our bill. Our insurance didn’t cover everything, but our bill was stamped paid. Neither Yvette’s parents nor mine could afford to help. Duke shrugged off my thanks then. And now the opportunity to tell him how much that meant to me—to somehow repay his kindness—is gone.”

  Noelani studied the thin young man with the serious eyes. “You are repaying his kindness, Mike. By being loyal to his family. You’d better take off. I wouldn’t want you to be late picking up your little girl.”

  He dashed out and she continued to stare blankly at the space he’d occupied. Most of the mill’s old-timers held Duke in high esteem. She wondered how many more stories such as Mike’s she’d find if she asked around. Duke might have left Bellefontaine in a financial bind, but who could fault his generosity? Certainly not her, considering the advantages he’d given her.

  To Noelani’s surprise, tears suddenly blinded her. She allowed herself at last to cry for the father she’d never known. She cried away what remained of her resistance.

  Finally, she blotted her eyes, heaved a shuddering sigh and sank down in a chair her father had no doubt occupied many times. She’d been so angry at him for so long. Wrongly, it seemed. Perhaps this was her chance to repay Duke.

  She switched on the calculator and began slowly plugging in numbers. As Mike said, the discrepancy jumped out at once. There were four such mistakes—if they were mistakes. Casey’s personal account took the deficit, while the mill reaped the reward in the excess sugar milled from her hybrids. In all, the errors represented several tons of raw sugar—which equated to thousands of dollars.

  Her first thought was thank God it was all in the family. But that was the most puzzling part. Chewing over what she knew, Noelani tapped her pencil eraser on the report. Her eyes felt dry and gritty. What were the ramifications here, since money lost from Casey’s ledgers still ended up in the family coffers?

  If Mike hadn’t been so alert, if this discrepancy had fallen through the cracks, agricultural developers could scrap this particular hybrid. Or would they? Noelani was aware that Casey kept a close scrutiny on the production level of each hybrid through her greenhouse computer. Would others know that? Might the rejection of Casey’s hybrid be the goal of the person pulling this sleight of hand? A saboteur in their midst who had a grudge against a cane developer? From what Noelani knew about the development process, it took approximately six to eight years to coax stalk from seed. And it was considered a coup by growers to be selected to plant developmental cane. So—maybe another grower had reason to resent Casey’s good fortune.

  No matter which angle Noelani contemplated, it ultimately involved the Fontaine family. For one thing, the perpetrator might plan to accuse Casey of fudging figures to let the mill pocket the profit. Another possibility—if the person or persons behind the mischief wanted to set the mill up for a huge fine or suspension from hauling to the refinery, they might charge her or Jackson with juggling figures. The most damning evidence to date was the fact that the tampering all appeared to be internal.

  “Brother! Jackson will simply not believe this.”

  She reached for the phone to call him and happened to see the time. Five minutes after seven. Where was Adam? He wasn’t here yet, although he was usually early. Maybe the note fell off the door in spite of her efforts with the double tape.

  Stacking the reports she’d run off, together with the ones Mike had prepared, she bundled the lot with rubber bands. The stack was heavy, but she wanted to store them under lock and key until she, Jackson and Casey could sort out this mess.

  She took extra care descending the steep steps. Feet firmly on the catwalk, she released her breath. Moving the unwieldy load to her weak arm, she dug her office key out of her jeans pocket.

  No sooner had she unlocked the door than a dark-clad figure detached itself from the shadowy alcove and more or less knocked her into the room.

  “Oof!” She swallowed her yelp of surprise. For a second she thought it was Adam playing tricks, trying to scare her into paying more attention to her surroundings. But as she stumbled to her desk and snapped on the lamp, Noelani realized her black-garbed visitor wasn’t Adam, but Denise Rochelle.

  “Denise, for heaven’s sake! You scared me.” Dumping the reports on her desk, Noelani turned to face the other woman. “Did you switch shifts today? Are they still having problems with the time clock? Give me your card and I’ll initial it.”

  “Shut up.” Denise kicked the door closed with a steel-toed boot.

  It sprang back open an inch or two, for which Noelani gave silent thanks. Denise wasn’t acting like herself. Her eyes were wild enough that Noelani considered phoning Marc, one of the vat monitors who worked on the other side of the alcove. Although with her kick-boxing training—and despite her injured arm—she ought to be able to handle one puny woman on her own, if need be.

  That thought hung in her mind until Denise pulled a small but deadly looking derringer from a fanny pack strapped around her waist.

  Automatically edging backward, Noelani felt her thighs bump hard against her desk. She spread out her hands to show Denise she was unarmed. Fear crept in, but Noelani beat it back with determination. “Talk to me, Denise. Whatever the problem is, let me see if I can help. But if you use that gun, there’ll be no turning back.”

  “Duke Fontaine caused the problem years ago when he fired my father without just cause. Oh, the big man thought he could steal our land for pennies on the dollar with none of us the wiser. Duke assumed I wasn’t old enough to do anything about his highway robbery, which made the Fontaines richer and the rest of us poorer. Well, I’m doing something about it now.” She cocked the pistol.

  “Wait! You’re holding me accountable for a situation that happened years before I even came to Louisiana?”

  “You’re Duke’s blood. Blood tells.”


  Noelani blinked. Aunt Esme was always saying stuff like that. However, Denise and Esme Fontaine differed vastly on what the telling of blood meant. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m Duke’s daughter. What do you want from me? If it’s restitution for property you say Duke appropriated, I can’t resolve that. You need to prove your claim to Jackson. He handles the family finances.” Noelani shifted a step closer to the phone.

  “Stop! You think you’re so clever. Trying to act as if you haven’t made a big discovery.” Denise laughed diabolically. “Just so you know I mean business, hear this. I didn’t spend five years dating a slimeball detective for nothing. He taught me to shoot and hit what I aim at. And he taught me to bug a place like this office.” Denise backed to the door, then she reached up and ripped a small black box off the wall.

  Noelani wondered why she hadn’t noticed the box before. Now she began adding things up. If Denise had this office bugged, she’d probably planted a device in the lab, too. It galled Noelani to think this hateful woman had been privy to all her private conversations for who knew how long.

  Denise saw she’d scored big. Tossing the bug aside, she snapped, “I don’t intend to let Duke’s bastard ruin my plans. You and I are walking out of here as if we’ve suddenly become best pals. We’ll swing past Mikie’s house. Then the two of you are going for a late-night swim in ye olde Mississippi.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going one step with you.”

  “I think you will. Or I’ll shoot you here. Take your pick. I chose this gun for a reason. Its report will be swallowed by the noise of the equipment.”

  Noelani happened to see a man’s shadow outside on the door’s frosted glass. Adam. It had to be him. Her heart galloped, then suddenly cramped in pain. The fear she’d held at bay washed over her in waves. She feared for Adam’s life.

  “Adam, watch out!” she screamed as the door swung inward.