Читать книгу The Secret Daughter - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 10

ADAM ESCAPED NOELANI’S ROOM not a second too soon. Her light, spicy perfume seemed to follow him. He’d promised Esme he’d show up for dinner, but he doubted it’d be an enjoyable occasion given the vulnerability he’d noticed in their guest’s eyes as they left her alone in the pineapple bedroom.

Once Jackson got back, maybe Adam would beg off. The storm had delayed his project; he’d had to cancel the roofers. It should be finished already, but he’d had trouble matching the mansion’s old shingles. The historical society’s rules for preservation made no exceptions when it came to building materials.

As Adam busied himself measuring for kitchen cabinet hardware, his thoughts kept straying—to Noelani Hana. He hadn’t liked leaving her in that big old room where she looked so small and lonely. Maybe not so small, he mused. He’d assumed that as a rule Hawaiians were short. She had to be five-seven or eight. Still, short compared to his own six-two. And she certainly wasn’t very big.

He had to stop thinking about her, had to keep his mind on his work. He didn’t need distractions, Adam reminded himself. Refurbishing Bellefontaine was his lucky break. Not only because of the generous fee he and Casey had negotiated or the way this job would enhance his reputation, but because of Bellefontaine’s proximity to Magnolia Manor, his old family home. His mom had been forced to sell it after a nervous breakdown that resulted in permanent hospitalization. Adam’s goal had always been to buy it back one day.

Right before Nick invited him to leave Natchez and bid on this job, Adam learned Magnolia Manor might soon be offered for sale by the state. He couldn’t help feeling the renovation of Bellefontaine had been an omen, bringing him within reach of his heart’s desire. So no matter how pretty, lost or vulnerable old Duke’s illegitimate daughter was, Adam had to forget her and stay focused on his objective.

Which proved easier said than done, especially as the afternoon wore on. Several times Noelani Hana’s laughter interrupted Adam’s work as she toured the house with Aunt Esme. No, he wouldn’t be skipping dinner tonight. Even though he should…

NOELANI NEEDED TO REST after the tour. Aunt Esme had brought Bellefontaine’s history to life, and Noelani’s head throbbed with facts. While she might forget these facts in time, the pride with which Esme had imparted her family history would linger. Built in the early 1800s, Bellefontaine had withstood the ravages of the Civil War. Noelani knew little about that war, but Esme made it sound as if it had been fought yesterday. For the first time, Noelani was glad she didn’t have what Esme called Yankee blood in her. Auntie E was a southern belle from the top of her coiffed hair to the toes of her designer shoes.

Rechecking her watch, Noelani thought she had an hour or two for a nap before changing for dinner. She drifted off quickly, and had no idea how long she’d slept when she awoke to voices and hurried footsteps in the hall. Her room was dark. Turning on a lamp, Noelani saw it was seven-thirty. She sprang off the bed in a panic. Her bags still sat where she’d left them after pulling out the slacks and blouse she’d hurriedly donned for her house tour. She felt rumpled again and pawed through the larger case, this time removing both of the dresses she’d packed. Why hadn’t she asked how dressy people would be tonight? She eyed a sleeveless red linen shift. The other, a black crepe, was definitely dressier. The red, she decided, digging out red sandals. Faced with meeting Duke Fontaine’s legitimate heirs, her spirits needed the bolstering red offered. She’d originally thought the family might be in mourning, but as Esme had worn a flowery dress today, Noelani doubted anyone expected her to wear black.

She splashed water on her face, then slipped into her dress and sandals. She started down the stairs with five minutes to spare. All the while, she prayed she wouldn’t be the last to arrive.

She was. Talk stopped dead. The men’s chairs scraped back the moment she appeared in the archway. Her knees knocked. Her palms were sweating. Determined not to show her nervousness, she breezed into the room. “Sorry I’m late. I fell asleep. Must be jet lag,” she said as though she were a seasoned traveler.

Esme was slower to rise. “You’ll sit here,” she directed. Her miniature schnauzer, Toodles, lay curled on a velvet pillow under Esme’s chair.

Noelani gripped the back of her assigned seat. A place mat peeked out from beneath off-white china. She spotted lead crystal and real silver. A soup bowl sat perfectly centered on her dinner plate, and a matching soup tureen steamed as it sat just so between etched, hand-blown glass fly-catchers. Esme had explained that before Bellefontaine was fitted for air-conditioning in the 1940s, the bottom of these globes were filled with sugar water to attract the flies that came into the house through unscreened open windows.

Noelani tried to remember what the odd contraption hanging beside the light fixture above the table was called. Ah, yes. A shoo-fly fan. According to Esme, a slave child would sit out of sight in a corner and operate the fan with a rope pulley, which controlled the sweeping blades. It was impossible for Noelani to comprehend what life must have been like back then.

Anytime she felt as nervous as she was now, trivia tended to cycle over and over in her head. Aunt Esme had given her plenty of trivial facts.

“Noelani, you’ve met Adam. Jackson’s at the end. His daughter, Megan, is to your right next to her nanny, Tanya Carson.” Esme inclined her head toward a thin young woman. “And this,” she finished breathlessly, “is Noelani Hana.” Esme smiled through a series of greetings. At last, she suggested they all sit again, and she requested Jackson serve the soup.

Noelani detected a similarity between Duke Fontaine—as he looked in the snapshot she’d tucked into her purse at the last minute—and his son. Brown hair streaked blond by the sun had been recently cut. His navy eyes were shaded by indecently long lashes, which Noelani noted his daughter shared. Megan’s eyes were gray, however, and her mop of curls a much richer brown. Athletically built, Jackson Fontaine appeared tanned, fit and stylish, although casually put together with that look only top designers could achieve.

Tanya Carson, young for a nanny in Noelani’s estimation, had pouty lips and wore big glasses that gave her violet eyes a permanently myopic look.

Adam and Tanya had been discussing music, and they continued their conversation after everyone sat. Noelani deduced that jazz was Tanya’s area of study. Although the young woman chattered nonstop with Adam, her eyes followed Jackson’s every move. In fact, she gazed dreamily at him, although Noelani doubted he even noticed.

It was just as well that Adam and Tanya were talking, considering no one else at the table bothered. Megan was practically falling asleep in her soup. And no wonder, given the late hour. Noelani tried to draw her out several times to no avail.

Really, though, she was dying to inquire if what Adam had said about cutting wet cane was true. If so, what type of harvester did they use? Bruce’s operation could benefit from cutting stalks beaten down by Maui’s heavy rains. Maybe she’d have to wait until Casey joined them before she could ask. Since Jackson seemed preoccupied, and his silent wraith of a child didn’t respond to her overtures, Noelani endured a tense meal except for an occasional word from the stiff-backed Esme.

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.

He set his tumbler aside. “Obviously Duke didn’t expect to die on this trip, Casey. Both his banker and I advised against buying the refinery from Roland Dewalt. Duke wanted it. Thank God, he didn’t second-mortgage the house to get it.”

“No,” Jackson snapped. “But he speculated on raw-sugar prices last season, banking prices would go up. They fell several cents a pound instead. We took a major loss. I had no idea until I saw the bank audit.”

“Even so,” Casey said stubbornly, “the last five years our yield has been up. Way up.”

Noelani’s head whipped back and forth as she tried to follow their talk. Among other things, Duke Fontaine had apparently been a worse businessman than he was a father. Well, to her, anyway.

Prescott held up a hand. “Duke always walked a financial tightrope. He gave you all free rein with spending. Angelique went overboard on clothes and cars for herself and you kids. She entertained lavishly—the Fontaines did everything first class. The upkeep alone on Bellefontaine is horrendous. Casey, you asked Duke to update the fleet of trucks and cane trailers. He bought everything new. You wanted the most expensive harvester. He bought it. Then you figure in college for three. To say nothing of the years he’s subsidized Anela Hana and her child.”

“Wait, a darned minute!” Noelani sprang up. “I went to Hawaii State on a full scholarship. My mother kept books for Bruce Shiller’s company for her money. We took nothing from Duke Fontaine.”

Prescott’s eyes darkened sympathetically. “Duke allowed you to think that. He insisted on providing for Anela and you. He said she was a proud woman, and you were filled with anger. Through Bruce Shiller, Duke arranged to pay your mother’s salary, including periodic raises. After she died, he continued the practice for you. He funded your scholarship, Noelani. Read the audit. It’s all there in black and white.”

Eyes suddenly awash in tears, she couldn’t have seen the figures if she’d looked right at them. Shaking her head vigorously in denial, Noelani ran headlong from the room. She’d phone Bruce. They were lying! They had to be. This was all a trick to make her feel bad so she’d say they didn’t owe her anything.

She’d seen a phone at the base of the stairs. She found it, figured out the time difference in her head, then dialed Hawaii. Bruce would still be in his office. “Hi, Midori, it’s Noelani. Let me speak to Bruce. It’s urgent.” She tapped a toe impatiently until he came on the line. “Bruce, the Fontaines are trying to imply Duke paid Mama’s salary. And mine. They claim he…he funded my scholarship.”

There was a silence.

“Bruce? Did you hear me?” Noelani’s hand tightened as the man at the other end sighed, then began talking fast.

“How could you?” she said in a hushed tone. “Guilt money, Bruce? You helped Duke Fontaine ease his guilty conscience. You let him trade money for Mama’s broken heart. How could you?”

Shiller talked faster. Noelani chewed her lower lip to keep the tears at bay. And she cast her eyes toward the high ceiling. “I know the cost of shipping sugar from the islands has risen twentyfold in as many years. I’ve seen other growers sell out.”

Noelani slumped against the wall. She was tempted to cut her losses and wash her hands of the Fontaines. But if she did, she could kiss her plan for Shiller’s goodbye. “You said yourself this inheritance is mine by right of birth. I’m not leaving Louisiana until I have what’s due me. I only wish you’d told me the truth before I had to hear it from Duke’s legitimate kids.” She couldn’t stay angry with Bruce, the man who’d been more of a father to her than her own. Her voice softened. “Bye, Bruce. I’ll keep you posted.”

She set the receiver down gently, dried her eyes and lifted her head in time to see Jackson Fontaine hovering half in, half out of his office.

“Are you okay?” He stepped out of the room and she steeled herself to meet him.

“Your figures are apparently correct. I swear I had no idea my mother or I took one cent from your father. I’m sorry for my outburst.”

Jackson rubbed his neck. “It’s okay.” His lips twitched. “Yours was nothing compared to the fit Casey threw when we first learned about you.”

“I imagine it was a shock. Only I didn’t ask to be born, remember?”

He spread a hand and invited her to enter the office ahead of him. “This is a situation none of us asked for. We’re all in the same boat. And there’s a lot at stake here, so we’re going to have to make the best of it.”

“You propose doing that how?”

“Well, you could go back to Maui and leave the resolution in our hands.”

“Not on your life! Is it necessary for me to hire a separate lawyer?”

“God, no. In my experience, the more lawyers involved, the muddier a situation gets, to say nothing of tripling costs.”

“So there you have it. I suspect you have a plan up your sleeve.”

“Not up my sleeve, exactly. Would you be willing to sign an agreement to defer finalizing your portion of the property until Casey and I bring in this year’s crop? Or at least until we settle the outstanding insurance claims?”

“I don’t think I’m willing to sign anything. At least not tonight.”

“Mind telling me why not?”

“When it comes down to it, Jackson, I know cane as well as you and your sister do. We all have a vested interest in bringing your crop in at a high yield.”

“You say that now in the heat of the moment. Tomorrow you might feel differently.” Looking unhappy, he returned to the desk where Shel Prescott still sat, having obviously refreshed his drink. Noelani returned to her seat beside Aunt Esme, who still stroked a snoring Toodles.

Jackson spoke up. “In spite of our denials, accusations and disbelief, I believe we can agree this problem isn’t going away. I propose we sleep on it and meet again at breakfast, to see if anyone’s been struck by some great revelation during the night. Shel’s promised he’ll recheck the status of our insurance claims.”

Casey twisted her ponytail and lifted it off her neck. Sighing deeply, she deferred to her brother with a shrug.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Nick said. “Everyone’s pretty emotional tonight.”

Dropping her hair, Casey got to her feet. “It’ll have to be early, Jackson. If saving our butts depends on bringing in the cane, that’s all the more reason for me to be out in the fields rather than stuck in some meeting.”

“Betty’s due at six. Is six-thirty okay with you, Noelani?”

“Sure. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“Aunt Esme. You’re remarkably quiet this evening.”

“Bellefontaine has survived many ups and downs. It passed to my brother during one of its worst slumps. He built it into the voice of sugar in Louisiana—indeed, in the whole South. You’re all of his blood. If the three of you pull together, I have no doubt we’ll get through this.” She stood, managing to look regal even after a long day. Carrying the yawning schnauzer, she marched to the door. “Toodles and I will skip breakfast at that uncivilized hour. We’ll see everyone for cocktails before supper.”

Casey and Nick followed Esme out after all good-nights were said.

Jackson remained by the desk. It was clear to Noelani that he wanted some time alone with the lawyer.

“I napped before dinner, so I’m wide awake. The rain’s stopped. Is it all right if I change clothes and go for a walk?”

“Fine with me. There are night-lights in the upper and lower halls. Oh, and carriage lamps on the fence posts. The fence marks the perimeter of Bellefontaine.”

“Is there danger of falling in an abandoned well if I hike out to the cane? I love hearing the wind rustling through the stalks at night. It relaxes me.”

“Casey, too. Hmm. I guess you have that in common. But to answer your question—no wells. Feel free to wander. Except the rows aren’t lit.”

“I won’t go into the cane. I doubt your sister would approve of me touching her precious stalks.” She gathered her papers and left the two men.

“Noelani,” Jackson called before she disappeared. “Casey idolized Duke. He let her down. It’s him she’s furious with. Not you.”

“My mother gave him up, you know. She only spoke to me about him once. She swore she never had any idea he was married when she first got involved with him, and when she found out, she sent him away. To the best of my knowledge, she never asked him for anything. No money. No contact. Nothing. But she never stopped loving him. Which made no sense to me, and I’m pretty furious at him, too. I’ll see you at six-thirty tomorrow.”

Noelani returned to her room, where she tugged on jeans, a tank top and a lightweight white cotton sweater. Pinning her hair into a loose bun, she tiptoed softly down the hall so as not to wake Tanya, Megan or Aunt Esme. In the aftermath of the squall, the night air was heavy. Too muggy for jeans, but Noelani was no stranger to the biting bugs that came out at night around cane.

Bellefontaine in all its glory made her catch her breath, not for the first time. She was used to living in a two-bedroom, single-story duplex. The bedrooms had no glass at the windows, but screens to let in cool ocean breezes.

The minute she stepped outside, Noelani dragged in a huge lungful of the heavy, humid air.

She wandered around front, where she paused and listened to the varied tunes played by the fountains. Closing her eyes, she let the day’s tensions slowly seep away.

Noelani dug in her pocket and found a stray penny, then made a wish, tossing the coin at the top tier near a carved pineapple decorating the largest fountain.

Something scraped off to her right. Crouching instinctively, she whirled.

“Easy. Easy there.” A rich, lazy voice reproached her from the darkened porch of the nearby garçonnière. Adam Ross disconnected himself from the shadows and stepped into view. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt, and held a frosty beer.

“I’ve heard that people throw coins in fountains. I’ve never seen anyone actually do it. Is it more effective than wishing on the first night star?”

Noelani glanced upward. “I’d be out of luck tonight. There are no stars.”

Adam leaned a shoulder against the rough siding and took another drink. He gestured with the bottle. “It’s muggy as hell tonight. Want one of these?”

“Sure.” She sauntered toward him. “Is the weather keeping you up?”

“Nah. I’m a night owl. Always have been.” He bent, reached behind him, opened an ice chest and pulled out another cold bottle.

“Staying up alone, drinking the night away, seems a sure path to perdition,” she said lightly. She accepted the bottle after he wrenched off the top.

Adam toyed with the idea of suggesting she come inside and keep him company—then he wouldn’t be alone. He settled on a different tack. “Worried about my soul, sugar pie?”

“No. But I think you should be.” The man was certainly glib with his cutesy endearments. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when he called her sugar pie that made it feel less insulting than when he’d thrown “sweet thing” at her. Anyway, she let it pass.

“If it’ll ease your mind, two of these is my limit. Throughout the day I drink bottled water. How did your meeting go?”

She didn’t know how to answer without going into the whole convoluted story. And the Fontaines had enough troubles without her spreading tales of their financial woes. Lifting her beer, she sipped, then rolled the cold bottle across her cheek.

“That bad, huh? I saw Shelburne Prescott peel out of here right before you came out. Figured something happened.”

She shrugged. “I went up to change. He stayed to have a word with Jackson.”

“Too bad you ditched the red dress. I liked it.”

“Dresses aren’t exactly conducive to walking in the cane. I’m on my way to have a look at it. Thanks for the beer.” She wagged the bottle at him and made ready to leave.

“Does Jackson know you’re out roaming the property this late?”

“He said it was fine. Why?”

“Doesn’t seem too wise, considering the stuff that’s gone on lately.”

“What stuff?”

“Well, the kitchen fire was set. Plus, the arsonist cut all the garden hoses before starting the fire. Casey’s new harvester mysteriously went poof one night. She’s only recently taken delivery of its replacement. Stuff like that.”

He’d managed to stop her cold in her tracks. “The Fontaines have enemies?”

Adam didn’t answer.

“Who’d do such terrible things?”

“Maybe a disgruntled former employee. Casey also caught him in the greenhouse office where she keeps records on her hybrids. Supposedly he confessed to setting the blaze. He’s in jail now.”

“So, if they caught him, I should be okay. You’re trying to scare me, aren’t you.”

“Call it erring on the side of caution. The guy swears someone hired him anonymously. There’s no proof. Even so, I think I’ll mosey along with you to be safe.”

A thrill shot Noelani’s pulse skyrocketing. But she’d be darned if she’d let Adam Ross see she welcomed his attention. “How do I know I won’t be safer alone than with you?” She gazed at him demurely through her lashes.

“You’ll have to take my word for it, sugar pie. Or if you prefer, I’ll escort you straight upstairs to your little ol’ bed.”

Noelani debated whether or not she should deflate his ego, and decided not to bother. She was more concerned about what he’d said. If the Fontaines had enemies, by virtue of her connection to Duke, they became hers, too. Come to think of it, Adam Ross had pretty free access to the property any hour of the day or night. Maybe someone should keep an eye on him. Someone like her.