Found (Not Quite a Billionaire Book 3)

by Rosalind James

  At the time, I’d thought, That’s why Kiwis never get anywhere. Too busy putting the boat in the water.

  And what had I done? I’d not only planned to take off Friday plus the entire three-day weekend, one short month before the show that would launch a line I was more excited by than anything I’d done since my first year—I hadn’t even been able to wait for Friday. By noon on Wednesday, I’d been ringing my pilot, and by Thursday morning, I’d been in the air. Which was why, nearly twenty-four hours and one international date line later, I was pulling into Koro’s driveway, bounding out of it with a hurry I never showed, and seeing a delighted smile bloom on the old man’s face.

  He was outside with Karen, who’d been maneuvering a long-handled picker to get the first avocadoes from the tree under his supervision.

  “Hemi,” he said. “You’re early. That’s good, my son. That’s good.”

  I knew he wasn’t talking about the clock. He was talking about me losing my discipline, succumbing to impulsivity. The exact thing that scared me, even as I took his good hand, pressed my forehead gently to his, and said, “Eh, Koro. It’s good to see you.”

  I gave Karen her own cuddle and kiss, and she said, “About time. Hope can stop going crazy now. I mean, love’s great and all, but she’s way over the line.”

  I laughed out loud, so happy to be here. Happy to leave behind the baking heat of Manhattan sidewalks wafting the scent of too many people and too many bad habits into the stale air. Here, a cool, moist breeze brought the crisp scents of bush and sea and trees bursting to leave winter behind and yield again. The sights and smells of home, and all of them were good.

  Koro looked at me, his eyes wise in his lined old face. “She’s not here,” he said. “Gone to work, then popping into Countdown afterwards, she said.”

  “So I can cook for everybody,” Karen said with a sigh. “I have to say, the cooking thing isn’t nearly as much fun when you have to do it. Every single day.”

  “Story of life,” I said, but without my full attention. “How’s she doing the shopping? Only got her learner’s permit, eh.”

  “Matiu’s taking her,” Karen said. “Like always.”

  Something in her tone had my gaze sharpening. “Oh?”

  “Matiu or Tane,” Koro said calmly. “Lessons.”

  “Right,” I said. “I’ll go see if I can find her, then.”

  “You do that,” Koro said. “Give her a surprise.”

  She wasn’t at the cafe. The middle-aged woman I recognized from that last visit said, “Gone to the pool, love,” then kept hauling a bag of rubbish out to the bin, sparing me a bright, curious glance along the way.

  Hope wasn’t at the pool, and she wasn’t at Countdown, though I wandered every aisle searching for her.

  I finally pulled the phone out of my pocket in defeat, then hesitated. I wanted that surprise. Home, then.

  I’m not sure what made me look at the beach. Maybe just thinking about Hope dancing along by the water. Maybe wondering if she were as excited as I was about our being together again, and how she’d have to express that. How it may have had to spill over, because Hope had a hard time containing her joy.

  Probably, though, it was just recognizing the sleek red Audi in the carpark. Not too many of those in Katikati. I was out of my own car again within seconds and over the berm.

  I saw her instantly. Running, her skirt in her hand, wearing the yellow dress she’d worn for our second disastrous date, the one that made her look so pretty and sweet, you had to ache with it. And for some reason, she had Matiu running after her. She was barefoot, looking so happy even from a distance. Not running away, then. Running for joy, as I’d thought.

  I took a minute to remove my own shoes and roll up my trouser legs. I was still in dress clothes, my usual dark trousers and white shirt, and now, I wondered why I hadn’t changed to jeans on the plane. Because I’d wanted to appear strong, polished, in control, like always? Hope didn’t care about that. She wanted to see me. She wanted me to hold her. That was why I hadn’t been able to wait. That was why I was here: because she needed me to hold her, and I needed to do it.

  It didn’t even scare me. Instead, it gave me wings. I was running along the firm sand, careless of the occasional scallop of white-flecked water edging its way past its fellows and catching a bare foot. There was nothing to be careful of anymore.

  That was why I was close enough to see it when Matiu took Hope’s hand.

  It hit me like an anvil in the chest. My steps slowed, then sped up again. The rage rose as quickly as the joy had, swamping it in a red tide.

  Except that I saw something else, too. I saw her posture change, and his as well.

  Every successful entrepreneur was a poker player, and I was one of the best. The rising of a pair of shoulders betraying tension that couldn’t be hidden. A hand clenched too tightly, a body that couldn’t stay relaxed.

  I’d caught up to them before the thoughts had crystallized. The two of them had slowed, then stopped. The fury was still burning inside me, and more. And more.

  “Hope,” I said. “Matiu.”

  Hope’s face worked, she gave a choked cry, and then she flung herself at me.

  My arms went out to hold her. They would never do anything else. It wasn’t possible. She didn’t lift her face to be kissed, either. Instead, she buried it in my shirt and held on as if I were her life raft. As if I were her finish line, her resting place. Or her champion.

  My eyes met Matiu’s over Hope’s head. Met and held.

  “Maybe you’ll explain,” I said, with the steel in my voice I hadn’t thought I’d need this weekend, “why you’re grabbing my fiancée. Why she had to work that hard to get you to let her go.”

  My cousin was nearly ten years my junior. When I’d been a man, already hard beyond my years, he’d been a boy. Too good-looking even then, too easily charming, with a mother who doted on him and too smooth a path to walk.

  He’d been intimidated by me then, and I’d known it. He didn’t look intimidated now, although he ought to be. “I thought she might need my help,” he said. “She told me she didn’t. End of story.”

  “And that’s meant to satisfy me.”

  Hope had unwound her arms from around me, though I still had my arm around her waist, her body pulled up tight to mine. I expected her to speak, to leap into the breach, but she didn’t. She waited. Trusting me.

  “It is,” Matiu said. “I thought I knew what I saw. I took a chance and asked. Hope set me right.”

  “And?” I asked.

  No sigh. No change at all in the eyes that stared steadily back into mine. “And I was wrong. Wrong conclusion. Wrong to ask. Wrong to put her in the position of having to tell me no. I let hope get the better of me, I reckon.” His charming smile, now of all times, shocked me like a dash of ice water. “So to speak. She got the better of me, and she let me know that you did, too. If you’re determined to make more of it than that, it’s your choice.”

  “No.” I knew my face and voice were sending a different message, but was wholly unable, for once, to control them. “I won’t do that. Too much pain for Koro and everyone else, and there’s been enough of that. Too much pain for Hope to think she did something wrong, when I’m guessing all she did was be herself. And maybe not pay enough attention.”

  “Probably,” Hope said quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

  She apologized so easily, but somehow, it didn’t make her weaker. She did it because she meant it, and she did it from the heart.

  Something Eugene had told me after she’d left punched into me at that moment like one of his sneaky blows making its way over my guard and straight into my chest.

  When I’d told him Hope was in New Zealand, that she was pregnant, he’d looked at me for a long moment, then sighed.

  “And I know,” I’d said. “You told me so. You don’t need to say it again.”

  “Nope,” he’d answered. “I don’t. Guess you can see for yourself. Time to man
up and admit it.”

  I’d tried not to wince, but had known he’d seen it in my eyes. “Yeah,” he’d said. “She put you on the ropes a long time ago. This here, though—this here’s a TKO.”

  I’d given it up. “That’s it. Still can’t figure out how it happened. I thought I was doing it right. Couldn’t believe she’d go. Couldn’t believe I’d follow her there like I did, or that I’d accept it. I still can’t believe it, but it’s true.”

  He’d shaken his head, showed me those missing teeth, and hit me in the shoulder with enough force that I’d had to brace against it. “Yeah. Ain’t that a thing? Guess you found the only thing in the world stronger than a man’s hard head.”

  I didn’t ask, but he told me anyway. “That’d be a woman’s heart.”

  Hemi

  Matiu turned around and walked away. I watched him go just to see the back of him, then looked down at Hope, still pressed up tight against my side.

  Her gaze was steady, and her voice was, too. “You did good.”

  “So did he,” I said. “Bugger.”

  She laughed, put her arms around me, and hugged me tight. Her voice was teasing, but a little husky, too, when she said, “I think there are a lot of men in your family who could give the world some lessons. One thing is completely clear—you’re named Te Mana for a reason. That was good. On both your parts. Matiu’s going to make some woman very lucky someday.”

  “He can make anybody lucky that he likes. Anybody except you.”

  “Mm. So, tough guy, how about kissing me? Since you’re the one and only man for me, how about letting me know it?”

  So I did, while the tide came in and foamed around our ankles and the sun dropped lower and hovered at the edge of the sea, here at the bottom of the world. And after a while, we walked back down the beach, I put her bike and bag in the back of the SUV, opened the passenger door for her, and said, “We’re going to Countdown, eh. Quite the romantic evening we’ve got in store, it seems.”

  She didn’t get in. Instead, she asked, “Do you mind if I drive?”

  It took me a moment. It had never occurred to me. She sighed and said, “Yeah. I figured. Never mind. Baby steps.”

  “No,” I said with some force.

  She jerked back a little, then said, “I said, ‘Never mind.’” There was an edge to her tone I almost never heard anymore. “I get it.”

  “No. You don’t. Of course you can drive.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I smiled. “Baby, here’s that negotiation practice for you again. Don’t ask me that. Just nod and say, ‘Right,’ walk around the car, and get behind the wheel as if you never had any doubt that I’d agree to your perfectly reasonable request.”

  “Oh. All right, then.” She went to the boot for her bag, pulled out her learner plates, attached them, then came back, pulled herself up into the driver’s seat, and said, “OK. Keys?”

  I handed them over without a word, and she heaved in an audible breath, blew it out, and said, “I’m nervous. Do I get to say that by Te Mana negotiation standards? I’m worrying about what you’ll think.”

  “Nah,” I said. “No worries. It isn’t my car, and I’m insured.”

  She laughed, and then she did it. She drove, and I was her passenger, and it wasn’t all that bad. She wasn’t going to be setting any land speed records, but she was conscientious, which was no surprise at all. That she was cautious—that wasn’t front-page news, either.

  Pushing the trolley in Countdown for her while she consulted her list wasn’t terrible, and neither was looking at the way that yellow dress of hers couldn’t conceal the bulge of her belly and knowing I’d be kissing that belly tonight, and so much more. In fact, I may have felt like the luckiest man in the world. It could be.

  It took a while to get there, of course. Three hours later, I hadn’t got any further than sitting on the couch watching telly with Koro while Hope sat on a footstool in front of him and gave him a hand massage.

  When she moved on to his feet, I muted the advert blaring on the TV and said, “That’s the royal treatment, eh, Koro. You’re never going to give my girl back at this rate.”

  Hope looked up at me with that smile of hers. “Touch is good. It helps.”

  Karen said, “She did it for me when I was sick, too. When you hurt a lot, you kind of seize up, trying to hold the hurt part in so it doesn’t hurt more, you know? When Hope would rub my hands and feet, it made at least part of me feel good, and I could let go for a few minutes. It was really nice.”

  “Could be more than that, too,” Koro said. “Could be the feeling behind it, eh. Same way Hemi helped me with the bath tonight, even though I don’t need it much anymore. Didn’t mind me being a grumpy bugger about it, either. Course, could be he just didn’t let on.”

  “Nah,” I said. “You can be a grumpy bugger. I reckon I’d even rub your feet if I had to. If I’d ever thought of it, which I didn’t.”

  “Or it could be it’s both,” Hope said, rubbing cream into Koro’s left foot and seeming perfectly content to do it. “The touch, and the feeling behind it. Of course you want to make somebody feel better if you love them. I did this for my mom when she got neuropathy in her feet from the treatments. I thought at least it’d be better than nothing, and it was. She said it was good. She said I had love in my hands.”

  Her voice had gone so quiet by the end, I almost couldn’t hear her. Koro put out one gnarled hand to touch her soft hair, still a little tousled from her time at the beach. She bent her head, and I knew why.

  Karen said, “Oh, great, Hope. Now everybody’s going to cry. Way to go.” Which made everybody laugh instead. Much better.

  The program came on again, and when it was over, I said, “I should’ve been sending more flowers while I was gone, I’m thinking. A bit neglected in here, aren’t you.”

  I’d been aiming for a smooth segue into a casual moment, but it didn’t quite come off. Koro snorted and said, “Bordello. That’s what this place has been.”

  “Doesn’t have to be roses,” I said. “Looked to me like your daffodils were already blooming. Made me think about your garden as well.”

  “Good,” Koro said with satisfaction. “Maybe that means you’ll till it for me tomorrow. Got a shed full of seedlings bursting out of themselves to get into the ground.”

  “I will,” I said, mentally rearranging my timetable for the weekend. “But there’s no time like the present.” I stood up and handed the remote back to Koro, then said to Karen, “Come give me a hand.”

  She bounced up, not playing her part with nearly as much nonchalance as she might have done. “Sure. I’ll go get the flashlight.”

  Koro looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, as well he might. “The bath was enough. I don’t need daffodils. Save it for the morning, at least.”

  “Nah.” I headed off after Karen. “Seize the moment.”

  She was outside already, hopping about like a rabbit, the light of the torch making crazy patterns in the dark. “I thought you were never going to do it,” she complained. “See, that would have been the perfect time, while Hope was massaging Koro’s feet. And let’s hope no guy ever thinks I’m going to massage his feet. I don’t care what Hope says about love, that’s just gross.”

  I laughed. “Nah. Knowing you, you’ll have him massaging yours. Let’s go, then. Light my way.”

  When we came back into the kitchen, Karen whispered theatrically, “I’ll go get it.”

  “Right,” I said, examining my bounty. Not too bad. Cheerful yellow daffodils and delicate paperwhites, their petals sending yet more fragrance into air that was still carrying the perfume of the steak and mushroom pie Karen had made for dinner. Koro might complain about the scent, but he wouldn’t be complaining long, not when he’d seen what I’d done. I hoped.

  Why was I thinking about Koro? I was nervous, that was why. Keyed up. Afraid Hope would appear in the kitchen before I was done, and trying to craft some sort of response that would get
her out again. I should’ve taken Koro into my confidence instead, but I’d known Karen would love it, and . . . well, I hadn’t.

  Before I could spin myself up any more, Karen dashed back inside the room with a loaded laundry basket. “It was all I could think of,” she explained. “Hurry up, before Hope decides everybody needs a hot drink before bed or something. You know how she is.”

  I did. I made my preparations, took a deep breath, thought, You know what to say. Harden up and do it, and followed Karen out of the room with one hand behind my back.

  Hope stood up at my entrance and said, “I’ll go get ready for bed, I guess. Get in the shower before there’s a crowd,” and started toward the doorway into the hall. Which, considering that it wasn’t even eight o’clock, I should have appreciated.

  “Uh . . . can you hold that thought for a couple minutes?” I asked.

  Karen gave a gusty sigh and said, “Remind me never to give you a surprise birthday party, Hope. Can’t you see Hemi’s trying to do something special?”

  “Oh.” Hope looked at me, back at Karen, sank down onto the edge of the recliner, and said, “OK. What?”

  Koro’s face was like some kind of carving. Representing benign ancestral power, maybe. I couldn’t spare too much attention for him, though, as I pulled out the vase of flowers from behind my back and set it carefully on the coffee table.

  “There,” I said. “Much more cheerful.”

  Hope, unlike me, would never be a poker player. I could read the expressions on her face as easily as if they’d been written there. Surprise, confusion, incredulity, delight, one after the other. “Hemi,” she said helplessly. “You found one exactly like it. How? That was old.”

  “I didn’t.” My own eyes may have been misting up the tiniest bit. I sank to a knee in front of her and took her hand. “It’s your mother’s vase. It’s the real thing.”

  She tumbled off the recliner and knelt beside me, her hand stroking over the vase. “Where? I can’t see . . .”

  I touched first one meandering crack, then the second one, pointing out the barely visible seams in the basketweave pattern of the Irish vase. Green shamrocks on a white background. Hope’s treasure, worth nothing but memory. Worth everything.