Andrea kept her face averted from the man who had once been her husband. Her memory, so long kept in abeyance, now had slammed back into place.
Andrea Ernst had been her name. The spoiled, neglected only child of immensely wealthy Randolph Ernst. Her mother had died long ago, before Andrea could store up any memories of her.
Andrea had grown up alone, lonely, and unloved.
And then she had met her Prince Charming. Or so she'd thought. Wilson Struthers had been everything she'd dreamed of in a man. She'd gladly said yes to his proposal.
On her wedding night, she'd learned he only married her to advance his career in her father's law firm. Even before the marriage was consummated, he'd strayed with the voluptuous office strumpet.
Her father had used her as a lure to attract the man he wished to be the son he never had.
As tears seeped from her eyes, she blinked to banish them. She'd spent seven years crying on the inside. Avoiding who she was, who she was meant to be.
Andrea Ernst would cry no more.
Wilson--she could no longer think of him as Will--carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. He gently laid her down on her bed.
"I'll get your mother, Anakalia. I saw her in the garden out back. She'll help you." He hesitated. "Will you be okay alone here?"
She still refused to look at him. "I'll be fine, thank you." Even to her own ears her voice sounded flat, dead. Just like how she felt.
He continued to hover with uncertainty. She could tell by the way the wood flooring creaked under his shifting weight.
Finally he walked to the door. "I'll be right back." His footsteps echoed on the staircase.
With him safely gone, she got out of bed. She grabbed her robe, put it on, then hastened over to the window. Gnawing on her lower lip, she looked outside. Jack Fairweather had just pulled into the driveway behind the white Taurus.
The truth about her identity would come out soon. Very soon. She had a mountain of decisions to make. She had to think. She had to plan.
What in the world was she going to do now?
* * * *
Will spotted Mrs. Lawai'a standing near a kukui tree with her palm outstretched. She was talking to a vivid red bird as it hopped from branch to branch.
"Mama Kalala," he called. "It's Anakalia. She's taken ill."
"Gracious me!" The woman's sudden movement caused the bird to flutter its wings and fly away. "What happened? Where is my darling little coconut?"
He wasted no time in explaining, but urged her to the house. As they walked, he helped her over the uneven ground.
"She's in her bedroom. I don't know what happened. We were at Onomea Bay, and she'd gotten out of the water. Jack Fairchild had just arrived. She almost fainted so I brought her back here."
"I must see. I must see." For such a large woman, she moved rapidly, into the house and up the stairs.
They were almost at the top when the doorbell chimed a pleasant melody.
She glanced over at the bedroom door, then down to the entryway. "Will, would you answer that please? I must see to my child."
"Of course." He headed back to the first floor. He would've preferred to be upstairs but, in truth, he was a stranger to the Lawai'as. It probably was for the best that mother and daughter speak in private.
The top of Jack Fairweather's thick hair was visible in the clear panel window on the door. Will opened the door, and stood aside.
"She's upstairs. Mrs. Lawai'a is with her." Will walked into the spacious living room and immediately began to pace. "Maybe something she ate disagreed with her."
Fairweather sat on a white couch in the airy room. He spread his hands out, palms up. "I hope it's only that. She's had a tough time of it, poor kid."
The room was quiet except for the soft whirling of the ceiling fan. Will stayed lost in his thoughts. Probably Fairweather did as well.
He glanced upstairs as if he could see through the flooring into Anakalia's room. Since he didn't have x-ray eyes he could see nothing, so he turned his attention to Fairweather.
Here was a good opportunity to get the interview out of the way. Get his side of the story. Find out why a few of his fellow attorneys dished the dirt about him.
And determine if, in Will's opinion, Fairweather should make partner. With that assignment done, he could return home to Richmond.
Or he could wait until Tuesday, when he was scheduled to leave. After all, there was no need to rush back.
He chose a comfortable chair and leaned back against the plump cushions. "How about if we have our little talk now?"
Fairweather's voice boomed. "Fine idea! What do you want to know?"
For starters, Will wanted to know what was the matter with Anakalia. But that wasn't to the point.
He proceeded to question Jack Fairweather about his law practice with Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen.
* * * *
Mama Kalala hurried across the room and sat on the bed. "What has happened, my child? Are you ill? Will is so worried."
Andrea closed the door and locked it. "I know who I am now, Mama. I know what happened seven years ago." She sat next to her benefactor.
Mama Kalala clucked her concern. She sandwiched Andrea's cold, clammy hand between her own two and briskly rubbed her skin.
The dear lady.
Andrea took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Okay, brace yourself. Here are the sorry, sordid details."
She first spoke of her father, of her lonely childhood. Since Nathan was an employee of the law firm, Mama Kalala naturally had heard of Randolph Ernst. That was surprise number one.
Surprise number two was that Wilson Struthers was her husband.
"Great Goddess Pele!" Mama Kalala slapped her bosom. "But he is a newlywed."
Andrea jammed her hands into her robe's pockets. "That's right, he is. And he has one wife too many."
The third surprise dealt with her father's deal with Wilson, and Wilson's adultery. She didn't go into more intimate details--that she had been a virgin seven years ago. That she was still a virgin. At her advanced age of twenty-five, her condition was a bit embarrassing.
Mama Kalala rapidly fanned her face with her hand. "Gracious me. I do not know what to say. Whatever are you going to do, child?"
"First, I'm going to take a shower." Andrea stood. "Then, I'm going to put on all my war paint and have a little heart-to-heart with my husband, Wilson Struthers."
Just thinking about that man made her stomach churn with resentment. She fisted her hands. "He's going to get the shock of his life."
"Oh, child. I do not like that look in your eye. You must move carefully here. These are extraordinary circumstances. There is so much at stake."
Andrea looked into the bathroom and narrowed her gaze at the connecting door to the guest bedroom. "You know, I bet he had me declared legally dead."
Tears welled up in Mama Kalala's eyes.
The dear, sweet lady.
Giving her surrogate mother a hug, Andrea whispered, "Now don't you say anything about this. Not one word. Just tell him I feel much better and want to go out to dinner with him."
Mama Kalala whispered back. "But what about Jack Fairweather?"
Andrea stepped away, her mind preoccupied by matters more important than Jack Fairweather. "He's a nice guy, but I'm not interested in him. After all, I am a married woman."
Mama Kalala left the room. "Gracious me. Gracious me," she kept repeating.
As she relocked the door, Andrea smiled, but without any warmth. Hell had no fury like a woman scorned, so the saying went. Well, her fury had had seven years to percolate. Wilson Struthers had better beware.