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.
CHAPTER THREE
JACKSON, NICK AND SHELBURNE rose quickly to their feet when Noelani entered the dining room the next morning. Casey stared at her over a mug of steaming coffee, her jade eyes still distant and cold.
“Coffee and juice are on the sideboard,” Jackson said. “If you want what we’re having, Betty’s cooking on the stove out back on the screened porch. Most years it’s used for canning during hot summers. But until Adam restores the kitchen, Betty will prepare our family meals there.”
“Coffee’s fine. I’m not big on breakfast.” Noelani poured a cup and wondered whether to take a seat next to Prescott or one beside Casey. She chose to be nearer the sideboard, and caught Casey’s unapologetic shift closer to her husband.
Noelani blew on her coffee to cool it. “You’ve got healthy-looking cane,” she said casually. “Depending on how much acreage you have, your yield could be spectacular.”
Jackson said “Two thousand acres,” a figure large enough to impress Noelani.
“Stay out of my cane,” Casey said, slamming down her mug. “The fields are my responsibility. Duke left me in charge before he went on the trip.”
“Casey.” Jackson and Nick cautioned her simultaneously.
Noelani wasn’t going to be walked on. “I distinctly heard Mr. Prescott say the cane, the mill, the refinery and everything to do with the business is a three-way split.”
“Maybe Duke wasn’t of sound mind,” Casey said, clenching her hands.
Nick stroked her tense arm. “Let me figure a way to help you buy Noelani out.”
“No. You sank a bundle in the boatworks, and now with Moreau defaulting…”
“Casey’s right. Thanks, Nick, but we’ll manage.” Jackson drank from his mug. “So, Noelani. You slept on our last discussion?”
“Yes. I’m staying until the business is solvent. I hadn’t planned to, but I phoned Bruce again last night. He’ll send me more of my clothes and things.”
Turning to Prescott, who’d mopped up the remaining egg on his plate with a pancake, Jackson said, “You reran those figures? There’s no way Casey and I can cash out Noelani today with whatever Maman left?”
Wiping his pudgy face with a napkin, Shel tossed it down and tilted back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his portly middle. “The way I see it, Jackson, you need every dime you can scare up to pay your crew. Plus, you’ll have to borrow to meet the mill payroll.”
Casey came hissing out of her chair. “We have money coming in from twenty-five growers and forty or so landlords who dump cane at our mill.”
Jackson scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thank God for that influx of cash, since the insurance companies are delaying until the National Transportation Safety Board finishes evaluating the crash. Casey, we’ll need those funds to buy supplies and to pay the landlords based on the core sampling of their loads.”
“That’s your end, Jackson. Mine is to grow the best damned cane in the state. I’m doing that,” Casey said. “My hybrids are thriving.”
A wiry woman of undetermined age, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, stepped into the kitchen through a side door. “Y’all want any more food before I dish it up and stick it in the warming oven for those lay-a-beds?”
“No thanks, Betty.” Jackson spoke as he glanced around the table. “Noelani?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Betty, this is our…uh…Noelani Hana. You’ll be adding a plate for her, maybe until Epiphany, which is when we tally our tonnage at the refinery.”
“I don’t eat meat,” Noelani supplied, smiling at the woman.
“Well, I ain’t no short-order cook,” Betty returned, propping her hands on skinny hips.
“I didn’t mean…” Noelani scrabbled to rephrase her intent. “Don’t add extra for me if you’re preparing a meat dish.”
Everyone at the table skewered her with a glance. She glared back defiantly. “I’ll make do with salads and vegetables if you’re serving them, anyway. If none of you eat fruit, I’ll shop for some. I’m sure you must have a free corner in the fridge.”
“Not a problem,” Jackson injected smoothly. “Make a list. Betty can pick extra fruit up each week when she shops.”
Shelburne shoved back his chair. “Since you’re leaving Duke’s disbursements in limbo for now, I’ll be on my way. Good vittles as always, Betty. ’Course, my cardiologist won’t thank you.”
“If you’re gonna eat like that, you’ve gotta exercise,” she said, then withdrew.
Prescott clapped a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Say, Harold Broderick might be in jail, but he’s some piece of work. Good thing Nick and Casey ID’d him as your vandal. I hear he’s not giving in, though. Seems he’s hired a pricey New Orleans defense lawyer. Who’d think selling a cane harvester on the black market would pay well enough to afford that kind of counsel?”
Jackson tugged at his lower lip. “Maybe Broderick got the proceeds from other robberies.”
“Yeah? Could be. Well, like I said, I have to hit the road. No, don’t get up, Jackson. I know the way out. I’m sure you have things to do.”
Casey stacked her plate and Nick’s. Reaching over, she added Shelburne’s. “Are you finished?” she asked her brother. “Time I made my rounds of the fields.”
Nick drained his cup. “I should’ve brought my car. I have an appointment with a company I may hire to do the interior of my next floating casino.”
Jackson went to the sideboard and refilled his travel mug. “I’ve
