The Secret Daughter

The soup, a creamy yellow squash with just a hint of nutmeg flavoring, was delicious. Ravenous, Noelani ate every drop. By the time she finished the fresh spinach salad that came next, she was full. As she avoided red meat, she was dismayed to see the others load roast beef, potatoes smothered in brown gravy and creamed baby carrots onto their plates.

Declining the beef, Noelani dipped out small portions of the side dishes. At that point even Tanya and Adam ate in silence. The knot in Noelani’s stomach grew.

Toying with her carrots, she glanced up once and found Adam staring at her. He gave her a warm smile, and she mustered a small one in return.

“Red is your color,” he said offhandedly, as if he ought to make some remark, simply because she’d caught him staring at her.

“That’s good. It’s my favorite color.” To her own ears, her voice sounded rusty from disuse. Understandable, considering how long it’d been since she’d mumbled hello to a tableful of folks who virtually ignored her.

Jackson set his fork down and used a napkin to blot his lips. “I have no doubt you are who you say. But did you by chance bring your birth certificate, Noelani?”

“Not by chance. Your lawyer requested it. But if you’re hoping to verify your father’s name on it, I can save you the trouble. It’s not there. I’m Noelani Hana, daughter of Anela Hana, period.” She lifted her chin and met his eyes without blinking.

Jackson’s cheeks reddened under his tan. “Duke had a copy of your birth certificate in his files. You were born October 8, 1975, at Wailuku, Maui. The purpose of asking for the original is to match it to Duke’s copy.”

“Fine. It’s in my suitcase. I’ll get it and you can study it to your heart’s content.”

Esme arched an eyebrow. “It’s plain the jeune fille has Duke’s short fuse.”

“The girl also understands French,” Noelani muttered. “I throw that out so no one will assume they can talk around me that way.”

Esme coughed discreetly. Jackson made no effort to disguise his scowl. “We aren’t trying to dispute your cla—” He broke off as a three-toned doorbell played loudly up and then down the scale.

“Excuse me.” Rising, he slid back his chair. “That’s probably Shel Prescott. I’ll take him to my office. Aunt Esme, will you phone Casey, then bring Noelani over after the two of you finish eating?”

“I’m through.” Noelani folded her napkin. “Shall I help clear the table?”

“Tanya will stack dishes tonight. Betty will wash them in the morning. You run along and find your document. By the time you return, I’ll have notified Cassandra of Shelburne’s arrival.”

Inclining her head, Noelani left the room and slowly climbed the stairs. Had Jackson been about to say they weren’t disputing her claim on Duke’s money? She hadn’t made any claim. They’d contacted her. She wondered if his comment implied they were looking for a way to cut her out of Duke’s will.

She wouldn’t put it past anyone raised by Duke Fontaine. Noelani knew Bruce liked the man, but what had Fontaine ever done to earn the love her mother reserved for no one but him until the day she died?

Noelani retrieved the certificate. She detoured past the bath long enough to press a damp washcloth to her face and put on lip gloss. Making her way downstairs again, she let out a surprised “Ack” and threw up an arm to ward off a bulky form appearing suddenly in her path.

“Careful,” drawled a soft masculine voice. “Were you planning to karate-chop me in the old jugular?” Adam asked with a laugh.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Noelani was a master kick-boxer. Had she not recognized him when she did, Adam Ross might have been flattened by a well-placed kick. Of course, she thought wryly, in the process she’d have ripped off every button from hem to waist of her red dress.

Adam eyed her, still trying to decide whether or not she was joking.

“Why were you sneaking around?” She deftly sidestepped him.

“I wasn’t sneaking. I was waiting for you. Casey and Nick showed up two seconds after you left the table. They and Esme went on to Jackson’s office. I’ve been appointed your escort.”

“Aunt Esme showed me the office on our tour. I don’t need escorting, but thanks, anyway. Or…were you instructed to delay me long enough so they can plot how to get rid of me?”

“Get rid of you? That’s a pretty paranoid statement, don’t you think?”

She lifted a shoulder delicately as they fell into step. “I imagine the lawful duo wishes Papa had drowned the mongrel at birth.”

“Can’t say you look like any kind of mongrel I’ve ever seen,” he teased.

Their shoulders brushed as they walked down the hall. Noelani moved a step to the right to avoid touching him. The man was far too big—and far too quick with his flirtatious comments. Adam Ross made her uneasy.

“There.” He pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “I was going to offer to go in with you if you feel you need protecting. But you give the impression you can take care of yourself.” Walking backward a short distance, Adam mockingly doffed an imaginary hat, then turned and left her on her own.

“Honestly,” she muttered, feeling the doorknob slip under her sweaty hand. Darting a glance down the hall to make sure Adam wasn’t spying on her, Noelani quickly wiped her palm down her dress. Taking a firmer grip on the knob, she threw back her shoulders and opened the door.

The instant she entered the room, her eyes landed on Cassandra Fontaine Devlin. Except for weepy, bruiselike smudges under her eyes, and a long, dark auburn ponytail, she shared the Fontaine look. A narrow face and foxlike chin proved a foil for her unsettling green eyes. At least they unsettled Noelani, because she sensed a vulnerability akin to her own in Duke’s daughter. His legitimate daughter.

Jackson straightened away from an antique desk made of dark cherry. A white-haired, paunchy man sat behind it, swirling ice in a tumbler of amber liquid. The minute Jackson noticed Noelani, he came to greet her. “Casey. Nick. Shelburne. This is Noelani Hana.”

Nick Devlin unfolded his rangy body from a chair to extend a hand.

Flustered by the hurt expression on her half sister’s face, Noelani almost didn’t shake Nick’s hand. She did in the end, although she clamped her teeth tight to keep her chin from quaking.

“Shall we get on with this?” Casey abruptly demanded in a husky, scratchy voice. “Some of us get up at dawn to earn our keep.”

Jackson frowned a bit. Nick sat quickly and slipped a bracing arm around his wife’s narrow shoulders.

“Noelani, there’s a vacant seat next to Aunt Esme,” Jackson said.

Actually there wasn’t. Toodles had claimed the brocade cushion. But Esme scooped the dog into her lap, allowing Noelani space to sit.

“Shelburne promised this won’t take long.” Jackson crossed the room again.

“It won’t,” the lawyer reiterated. “I already told Jackson that Duke and Angelique’s property disbursement is fairly straightforward.” Prescott pushed aside a stack of papers. Opening his briefcase, he removed a set of stapled documents.

“Cassandra and Jackson, Angelique made a list of her jewelry for insurance purposes. With the exception of her wedding set, which was previously earmarked for the woman Jackson will one day marry, she split the items equally between you. As she did the cash in her personal account. I must say, since she financed their recent trip abroad, it’s a modest sum. Thirty thousand, give or take a few hundred.”

Casey leaned forward, tension stiffening her slender back. “Why would Maman finance their trip? Duke said he planned it as an anniversary gift—or more of a second honeymoon,” she said, telegraphing Noelani a smug “so there” message.

“I’ll get to that. Let me finish. Duke has allotted a yearly stipend for his sister, Esme. While technically the house passes to Jackson, a codicil gives Esme the right to live out her days at Bellefontaine. Wisteria Cottage, which belonged to Duke’s mother, and its five acres, is in a separate trust for the use of current or future Fontaine heirs. I understand, Casey, that you and Nick are currently living in the cottage.”

“Yes. Temporarily. What about the mill and the cane fields?” Casey asked, sliding to the edge of her straight-backed chair.

Shel again scolded her with a glance over his half glasses. Nick ran a hand up Casey’s back and lightly massaged her neck. She automatically slumped sideways, curving into the hollow below his arm.

“The cane fields, outbuildings, mill, all warehouses and the refinery Duke purchased a few weeks before his death are to be divided equally among Jackson Fontaine, Cassandra Fontaine Devlin and Noelani Hana. I’ve prepared an inventory of all assets, liabilities and cash connected to the aforementioned properties. The bank has provided this independent audit, which Jackson requested.” Getting up, Shelburne handed each of the three siblings a packet.

Noelani watched Jackson, Casey and Nick pore over the pages. She folded hers in half and cleared her throat. “Jackson, I…ah…don’t know if you’re aware that I knew nothing of this prior to Mr. Prescott’s letter. It was never my intention to intrude on your lives. I feel the best thing for everyone would be if you and your sister cashed out my part and let me be on my way.”

Casey sat up in a rush. “Finally, something that makes sense. I’m agreeable. Aren’t you, Jackson?”

Jackson emerged from a stupor. “Casey, have you checked the bottom line? Except for the funds Maman left, which if we’re lucky will cover this month’s operating expenses, we’re property rich but cash poor.”

Casey flipped to the last page of the report. “How can that be?” She glared at Shelburne, while she repeated the question.