Gentle Persuasion

by Cerella Sechrist

  Dane watched the older man as he circled the pit, the coldness in his eyes belying his warm tone.

  “So I assume you’ve brought the payment with you.”

  Dane stiffened. “I’ll have $10,000 for you on Monday. That should make a substantial dent in the loan.”

  Masters frowned. “Why, yes, that’s something. But not even half of what you owe.”

  Dane forced himself to remain pleasant. “No,” he conceded, “but I thought it might be enough to buy me a little more time. You know things can get tight in the months leading up to a harvest.”

  Masters’s frown only deepened, and Dane felt the faint stirrings of dread.

  “Of course, if anyone understands your predicament, son, I do.”

  Dane chafed at the other man’s use of the word son—it seemed a calculated gesture of feigned concern. “I, too, was once new at this game. However—” Masters trailed off for a bit, and Dane braced himself “—at some point, you have to accept that others know better than you. Perhaps you’re not the genius you’ve been touted to be.”

  Determined to keep his cool, Dane crossed his arms. “Is that what bothers you, Masters? My reputation?”

  Masters shrugged. “You have to concede the irony—the infamous Dane Montgomery has finally been bested.”

  Dane clenched his jaw in annoyance. “That’s how you see this, then, as a competition between the two of us? Do you think if you win my plantation, that it will be enough to accommodate the size of your ego?”

  Masters laughed. “I hardly think you’re one to talk about ego, Montgomery. After all, why is it that you’ve stayed here in Hawaii, hmm? Why haven’t you returned to New York, taken one of the offers presented to you and salvaged your farm when you had the chance?”

  The other man took a step closer and leaned in, his expression smug. “Because of your pride. You can’t admit that you’re no good at this farming venture. You refuse to confess that you’ve failed.”

  Dane dropped his arms and ground his teeth together at these words. Could Masters be right? Was it only his own arrogance that kept him from accepting one of the many offers that had come his way? Returning to New York might feel like a defeat but would it be better than signing over his land and property to Masters? The man may have been a megalomaniac but perhaps he had a point.

  “Think about it, Dane,” Masters continued. “The longer you’re out of the game, the fewer recruiters will come. They’ll begin to recognize your skills for what they were—a brief, flaming star that too quickly died out. Maybe that’s why you really left the corporate world? You knew your supposed brilliance couldn’t last much longer.”

  How many more opportunities would come his way? What if Ophelia was the last of them? What if the Towers proposal was the last opportunity fate saw fit to send him? And he had turned it down, turned his back on the last chance he had to save his farm, his friends, his dream.

  The taste of bitterness coated the back of his throat. He refused to let Masters defeat him, refused to give up on his farm without one last fight. Moving around the luau pit, he brushed by Masters and headed back toward the party.

  “Where are you going?” his rival demanded. “We haven’t finished our discussion yet!”

  Dane called his reply over his shoulder. “There’s something I have to do first.”

  * * *

  AFTER LEAVING DANE, Ophelia managed to seclude herself behind a palm tree until she regained control of her emotions. It was ridiculous, her disappointment. Her mother would have disapproved of her self-pity. And yet, she needed some time to shake off her regret and attempt to put things in perspective. Dane would not be coming back to New York. It wasn’t as if she were the first recruiter to be turned down. But perhaps she had been the first with so much at stake—her mother’s approval, the stability of the company, her hopes for a future in Paris.... She felt the crumbling of her dreams all around her, and still, in the midst of the wreckage, one thought dominated.

  Dane wasn’t coming back to New York. She would likely never see him again. It dismayed her, perhaps more than all the others combined.

  But that had to be her failure speaking. She hadn’t known Dane a week—she could hardly be this devastated about never seeing him again. It was only his importance to everything, his role in her success, which caused her to think in such a way.

  She repeated this to herself until she accepted it—she wouldn’t be missing Dane but only what he represented: her stepping stone to the future.

  Well, it was done. He had turned down the offer. Now she had to shift her thoughts back to the mainland and how she would relay the news to her mother. Consulting the time on her cell phone, she noted that it was long past midnight in New York. She felt a swell of relief—too late to call. She would handle it in the morning, before she had to pack for the airport. With this plan in mind, she determined to rejoin the luau and absorb as much culture as possible before she had to begin thinking in terms of the city once more.

  * * *

  DANE SEARCHED THE luau attendees in a careful sweep of faces and postures, seeking out one in particular. His eyes passed over Leilani, dancing with Sam. He saw Pele protectively dishing out squares of haupia at the refreshment table, and he caught Keahi’s eye as he spoke with one of the musicians. He quickly kept looking. An acquaintance called his name, but he ignored them. He had a mission, one thing in mind...and one person he had to find.

  Finally, his eyes alighted on Cole Dorset, a drink in hand as he leaned down and spoke with someone in front of him. Cole’s height and frame blocked Dane’s view of whomever the recruiter spoke with, but he started in that direction, anyway. His suspicions were confirmed as he drew closer, and Cole shifted, allowing Dane a glimpse of the woman before him.

  Ophelia.

  He came upon them in several more long strides.

  “We need to talk.”

  She looked startled by this abrupt declaration. Or had it been something Cole had said before Dane broke between them?

  “I—”

  She looked to Cole, and when Dane glanced at the other man’s face, he saw both curiosity and pique written on his features.

  “There’s nothing like an ‘excuse me’ when you interrupt a conversation, Mr. Montgomery.”

  “Excuse me,” Dane automatically offered. He didn’t have time to feel sorry, embarrassed or even annoyed. He only needed to talk to Ophelia. “Please. I need to speak to your colleague.”

  Ophelia’s eyes were widening, seeming to absorb his desperate tone.

  “Cole, if you’d give us a minute?”

  Cole hesitated, his eyes flitting between the two of them. Dane willed him to go away.

  “If this concerns the recruitment offer, then perhaps I should stay.”

  Dane cast a glance over his shoulder and saw Masters, some distance away, scanning the party as Dane had been doing.

  “Tell her to double it.”

  He turned back, focusing his sight on Ophelia, though he was aware of Cole’s eyes narrowing in his own peripheral vision.

  “Double—” she began.

  “The signing bonus. Tell Bianca Towers to double my signing bonus, enough to clear my debt to Masters with some left over for Keahi to keep things running until the harvest this fall. Get her to double it, and I’ll do it. I’ll sign.”

  He felt an overwhelming sense of urgency, the need to hear Ophelia tell him this was acceptable.

  “Will she agree to that?” he asked.

  Ophelia slid a glance toward Cole and back to Dane. “I think so. Yes.”

  Cole gave a snort and then chuckled. “Montgomery, she’s interested in the coup of having you on her team. Believe me, she’ll agree.”

  Dane relaxed, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. He turned to see Masters only a few feet awa
y. By the time the other man was upon them, Dane was grinning.

  “Ken, I have good news. There’s no need to dole out any more fees to your lawyer. I can repay the loan in full.”

  And in that moment, his sacrifice was worth it just to see the scowl of defeat on Masters’s face.

  * * *

  OPHELIA WAITED UNTIL the following morning to place the call to her mother. She rose early, mostly because she couldn’t sleep, anyway, her thoughts filled with the realization of a goal accomplished along with the slightly giddying prospect of Dane’s return to New York.

  She moved to the window, where dawn’s light had yet to creep over the horizon, and dialed her mother’s line. Even on a Saturday morning, she knew her mother would likely be in the office, and odds were, her assistant was there with her—performing menial tasks. As a workaholic, Lillian believed Saturdays were often the best days to catch up on items overlooked throughout the week.

  “Reid Recruiting, Lillian Reid’s office.”

  “Hi, Tamara, it’s me.”

  “Ophelia!” Tamara’s voice fell, hushed and slightly anxious. “I was hoping you’d call.”

  Ophelia suspected her mother had hounded Tamara relentlessly, asking if Ophelia had checked in yet.

  “It was too late to call last night. But I have good news. Could you put me through to my mother?”

  Tamara’s voice was saturated with relief as she told Ophelia to hold. She could only imagine how tense things had been this week for anyone who worked directly with her mother.

  “Ophelia.”

  Her mother’s voice cut across the line, her impatience punctuating every syllable.

  “Hello, Ms. Reid.” She wanted to savor this, to bask in the glory of her success. But in the end, she said it as simply as she could. “He agreed to sign.”

  There was a sound on the other end, a whoosh of air that Ophelia could only assume to be a sigh of relief.

  “He wants Bianca to double the signing bonus, but I didn’t think that would be an issue.”

  “No, no. She’ll be so pleased we’ve accomplished the impossible that she’d probably triple the bonus if he asked.”

  “Good.” Ophelia waited for some word of congratulations from her mother. “Cole and I will be flying back today, but Dane needs another couple of days to arrange his affairs. He’ll be coming in on Monday.”

  “That’s acceptable.”

  “He’ll need the bonus sent as soon as possible. He has some debts here to clear.”

  “I’ll begin arranging things immediately.”

  Ophelia paused.

  “And...Paris?” she prompted.

  “We can discuss all that when you return.”

  Ophelia gave a short nod and then realized her mother couldn’t see it. “All right. Is there anything more you need from me?”

  “Not right now,” her mother answered. “Only...well done, Ophelia. I knew you could do it.”

  Ophelia closed her eyes and drank in those simple words. “Thank you, Ms. Reid.”

  “We’ll speak more when you’re back.”

  “All right.”

  “Come to the loft tomorrow afternoon, after your flight gets in and you have a chance to rest up.”

  Ophelia hesitated. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to face her mother so soon after her arrival in New York, but she didn’t wish to lose the approval saturating Lillian’s tone.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Have a safe flight.”

  Lillian hung up before Ophelia could say thank you.

  Ophelia made her way downstairs as the morning’s light was just beginning to work its way through the windows. The first-floor area was deserted with the lights still off, but she could hear movement from the direction of the kitchen, so she headed that way. She rapped lightly on the door before nudging it open to find Pele, elbow deep in a mixing bowl and already hard at work.

  “Good morning, Pele.”

  The short, round housekeeper gave a short nod of acknowledgment, barely glancing up.

  “Do you mind if I get some coffee brewing?”

  She offered another nod, which Ophelia took for approval before heading for the coffeemaker. She rummaged for some filters before moving toward the sink to fill the pot with water.

  “I suppose Dane told you everything,” she said by way of conversation.

  Pele didn’t respond.

  “Pele?”

  “I heard you,” the other woman snapped.

  Ophelia frowned and stood there until she realized the coffeepot in the sink had long since filled and was now overflowing water down the drain. She turned off the stream, decanted the excess from the glass pot and carried it back to the brewer.

  “Pele, have I done something to offend you?”

  The older woman turned, and Ophelia saw that her eyes were red-rimmed with either sorrow or rage, perhaps both.

  “You came here and turned our world upside down. And you have the nerve to ask how you have offended me?”

  Ophelia stood there, stunned.

  “Dane never would have accepted my offer if he didn’t already owe Masters money. That’s not my fault.”

  Pele didn’t reply, and Ophelia finished measuring grounds into the coffee filter before putting it into place and selecting the button to brew. The kitchen remained silent, save for the gentle gurgling of the coffee and the hiss and drip of brewing.

  Finally, Ophelia decided she’d had enough.

  “Listen, none of this is my fault. You disliked me from the second you opened the inn’s door, and you didn’t even know me! And yet, you’re totally enamored with Cole.”

  “He’s different.”

  “Yes, more aggressive, more determined, and if he had been the first one to show up here—”

  “Dane would have made him leave immediately.”

  “Exactly, and for that matter...wait a minute.” Ophelia stared at Pele. “Is that why you don’t like me? Because Dane didn’t kick me out right away?”

  Pele’s gaze skittered away.

  “You don’t like me because Dane actually listened to my offer.”

  Pele turned her back, but Ophelia wasn’t about to let it go. She reached out, her hand touching the stout woman’s shoulder. She whirled at Ophelia’s touch, brushing her away.

  “Yes, he listened to you! And now he’s leaving! If you had stayed away, he wouldn’t be going! You were trouble, the moment you showed up here. I knew it. I could see it in the way he looked at you. And now, he’s leaving. Because of you.”

  Ophelia took a step back. “Not because of me,” she said. “Because of Masters. Because he doesn’t want to see you and Leilani and Keahi without a job. Because he wants to make this plantation work, even if it can’t be exactly how he imagined.”

  “He would have found another way. It would have been on his terms, not yours. You should have stayed in New York, where you belong.”

  These words wounded Ophelia. She could understand Pele’s grief at losing Dane, but she hardly felt she deserved such animosity. All of a sudden, she felt rather glum, an emotion that annoyed her. She had accomplished the impossible, convinced Dane Montgomery to return, although she recognized it had more to do with Kenneth Masters than any skills on her own part. Dane hadn’t chosen to return based on her recruitment—it had simply been his means of escape from a possible financial disaster. Could her mother have guessed that? Is that why her praise had been so sparse?

  “I know you may find this difficult to believe, Pele, but I care about what happens to Dane. And to the rest of you.”

  Pele snorted in disbelief. “You are sneakier than the others. That’s all.”

  “I’m not being sneaky. I’ve been nothing but honest with Dane, and with y
ou! You’re being entirely unfair!”

  “Um, am I interrupting something?”

  Ophelia whirled to find Cole in the kitchen doorway.

  “No,” Pele answered before Ophelia could. “You come in. I’m making you Hawaiian sweet bread like I promised.”

  Cole grinned at Pele and moved farther into the room, though his eyes remained trained on Ophelia. His expression held a question—what had she been so upset about? But she refused to respond.

  “Here, I’ll pour you some coffee,” Pele told Cole and brushed Ophelia aside to get to the finished brew.

  Ophelia stepped back. She had the feeling Pele doted on Cole simply because she knew it would bother Ophelia. She never would have guessed the older woman could be so spiteful.

  “How do you take it?” Pele asked.

  But Cole wasn’t looking at her. His attention remained squarely on Ophelia.

  None of it mattered, she told herself. Not Dane, not Pele’s anger, not her mother’s lackluster praise, none of it. Within another month or so, she would be in Paris, settling into a new life and reconnecting with old memories. She would have to try and run down contact information for her cousins—let them know she was coming. Maybe they could get together for dinner once she reached the city, share memories of her childhood....

  “Fee?”

  She straightened to awareness as Cole spoke.

  “Are you okay? You look like you don’t feel too well.”

  Ophelia’s eyes turned in Pele’s direction, but the other woman did not acknowledge her, instead focusing on the task of pouring and preparing Cole’s coffee.

  “I’m fine,” she told him. “Just fine. I’m going to return to my room and get some packing done before breakfast.”

  She left the kitchen without giving Cole a chance to reply.

  * * *

  OPHELIA MOVED TOWARD the stairs to the second floor but paused as she saw Dane entering the lanai. She hesitated at first and then headed for the patio, calling a soft “good morning” as she stepped onto the terrace.

  Dane stood with his back to her, glancing over his shoulder as she moved toward him. She stood beside him at the rail, watching as the morning sun covered the trees and shrubs in a hazy golden light, tingeing the world’s edges with strokes of burnished copper.