The Secret Daughter

“Murray’s Jackson and Casey’s friend. Well, maybe not Casey’s,” he muttered. “And definitely not Nick’s. Murray wanted to be more than friends with Casey. She didn’t want that, and then he proposed and it got messy.”

“Oh? Oh, I see.” She paused. “Jackson put me in charge of arranging a cochon de lait. This file is my guideline. Darn, I hope these pages weren’t in any kind of order.”

She ripped a stack of papers out of his hand and stuffed them back into the collapsed accordion file.

In the act of rising from his knees, Adam was left staring at Noelani’s bare legs.

He did what any red-blooded man whose tongue had just about dropped on the floor would do. He mustered enough spit to peal off a wolf whistle.

“Oh, grow up.” Noelani leaned down to collect her mug from where she’d set it on the floor.

He slapped a hand over his heart. “May God strike me dead if I ever get too old to appreciate a woman’s legs.”

“And well He may. Hmm. I see you have stuff all over the desk. Jackson said I could use the phone here to make some calls.” She began backing toward the door. “He said if I’d be in your way there’s also a desk upstairs in the family room.”

“Hey, you won’t be in my way.” Adam hurriedly gathered up blueprints from the desk. “I’ll throw these on one of the counters.”

“What’s that racket?” Noelani tipped her head back to stare at the smoky ceiling. It sounded as if a herd of elephants had landed above and were tromping about.

“Roofers. They’re tearing up burned shingles today. With luck, they’ll have time to lay plywood, too. Then tomorrow, they can spend the day putting on a new roof.”

She set her mug on the desk, wrapped both arms around the bulky file and plastered her nose against the window. “If those scattered bundles are new shingles, I can’t tell them from the old ones—except for the charred spots.”

“That’s the idea, sugar pie. When I finish, this place will look exactly like it was before the fire.”

She released a dark strand of hair caught on her lips. “Is my name too much for you to manage, Adam? No-eh-lon-ee. Four simple syllables.”

He grinned rakishly. “It’s a wonderful name, too. Straight out of James Michener’s Hawaii. What a book.”

“Actually, I was named after a Maui resort. It’s where Duke Fontaine stayed when he and my mother met. Quite frankly, I’d rather be named for Michener’s character.”

“Did you ever pick up a phone to tell your father how mad he made you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stalked to the desk and slammed down the file.

“I’ll bet it would have eased the load you’re lugging around. And we both know I’m not talking about the folder you just took out your aggressions on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ross, for that two-bit psychoanalysis. But it hardly falls under the heading of historical restoration. I’m sure you have something important you’re being paid to do.”

“Ouch! I scored a direct hit on a sore subject, I see.”

“You see nothing. You know nothing about me, and you have no idea what it was like growing up in my shoes.”

Adam held up his hands, palms out. “That’s right. We can rectify that over dinner. I’m talking about a meal in town. You ever had fried alligator? There’s this cool Cajun place near the river. Alligator is their signature dish.”

“I don’t eat meat.”

“They do a mean crab salad. Wait, wait, I see you crossing your eyes. Aren’t crabs technically crustaceans and not mammals?”

“Did it never occur to you that I don’t want to go out with you?”

He raised a shoulder. “That’s plain enough. Tell me, did I say something last night to annoy you? I enjoyed our walk. I thought we’d hit it off.”

Noelani shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. Without uttering another word, she snatched up her file and mug, and left the same way she’d entered.

Adam watched the door swing forward and back on its hinges. Damn, but he’d never met such a prickly woman. He’d assumed, after last night’s uncomfortable meal, that she’d jump at the chance not to repeat that experience. Somehow, he really doubted breakfast had gone better. Adam had been leaving the garçonnière and chanced to overhear Casey ranting to Nick about Jackson going soft on their father’s little indiscretion. Adam thought if anyone could use a friend, it was Noelani Hana.

But if he offered an olive branch and all she wanted to do was wrap it around his neck, that was A-okay with him. He didn’t need the distraction from his work. He had precious little free time as it was. Why waste it in the company of a bad-tempered, hotheaded woman who wasn’t planning to stick around? Adam had heard Casey say to Nick that if they’d had the means, Noelani would take her money and run. With an estate of this size, surely it wouldn’t be long before they had funds to send her packing.

Slamming outside, Adam shoved the whole kit and caboodle to the back of his mind and went to have a word with his roofing subcontractor.

UPSTAIRS, NOELANI SPREAD the information on previous parties out on the desk and tried to make sense of the various lists. She heard a noise behind her. It wasn’t much, and sounded as if it came from behind the couch, which stood near a row of floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

She slipped from her chair and tiptoed across the room, aware of each creak in the old floor, wondering who or what had made that sound. She didn’t expect to find Jackson’s daughter, Megan, huddled in a corner behind the couch, hugging a tattered rag doll and crying. Not really crying, Noelani decided. More the kind of body-racking sobs that followed a crying jag. A child’s book lay forgotten on the floor.

“Hi, Megan. It’s Noelani. Do you remember meeting me last night?” Afraid of scaring the little girl if she hung over the back of the couch, Noelani walked around it and sat cross-legged on the floor. Not too near so as to appear threatening, but close enough for comfort.

Megan hugged her doll tighter. The girl wore a long, frilly pink nightie and fuzzy bunny slippers. Her beautiful dark curls were tangled from sleep.

“Does your tummy hurt?”

Megan shook her head until her curls bobbed.

“Did you get up to go to the bathroom and forget the way back to your bed?” Esme had skipped Jackson’s end of the house on her tour, so Noelani wasn’t sure if the child shared a bath with Tanya, or if she had one en suite.

Noelani sighed. “I’m not a good guesser. Maybe you should tell me why you’re crying.”

“I came to wave bye-bye to Daddy. And I fo…found Emmylou in a s-sack. In the trash.” She pointed a quivering finger toward a waste basket tucked between a lamp and the bookcase.

“Mommy gave her to me. I lost Emmylou and Miss Tanya said she was gone. She said I could only sleep with the dolly Daddy bought me. But…but she’s hard. Not soft like Emmylou.”

Several thoughts as to how the doll might have accidentally ended up in the trash flitted through Noelani’s mind. None made sense, especially since there was no denying that the crumpled plastic bag bore the name of a local boutique. Obviously someone had tried to dispose of the tattered doll.

Nanny Tanya, with eyes that coveted Jackson, fell several notches in Noelani’s estimation. But would a young woman who was infatuated with her boss take anything so drastic upon herself?

But Noelani preferred to blame Tanya rather than Jackson. This morning he’d acted concerned about his daughter’s transition into the household. He wouldn’t sink so low as to dispose of a harmless toy.

“Did your daddy read you that book this morning?”

Megan nodded. Hooking the doll under one arm, she pulled the book onto her lap. “He woke me up. We read half. Then he had to go to a meeting.”

“I see it’s Dragon Tales. That’s one of my favorite stories. Would you like me to read the second half now?”

Nodding her head, Megan lifted the large book and handed it to Noelani.

“Shall we go sit on the couch? The light’s better, and I think we’d be more comfortable.”

The child weighed that thought carefully. Finally, she got up and scampered over to perch on the very end of the sofa.