Chapter Twelve
Nina didn’t just drift away for a little while. She slept a solid two hours, ate the snack Boone brought her, and followed that up with another round of incredible sex before crashing for the rest of the night. Either Boone’s intensity had worn her out, or she really wasn’t ready to face her past.
Eventually, though, the sun rose, and even the curtains flapping lazily in the breeze couldn’t coax her back to sleep. She dragged herself out of the paradise of Boone’s bed and took a deep breath before joining her lover on the porch, wrapping a sarong around her as she went. Would the amazing connection she’d felt last night turn into an awkward morning? Or were they bonded on a deeper level as she so desperately wanted to believe?
Boone sat on the top stair, looking over the sea. When she joined him, he lifted his arm and snuggled her close. So, no, the magic wasn’t gone. The kiss he planted on her forehead was soft and tender, but his brow was furrowed, his shoulders tight. He ran his fingers over her forearm, then gripped her hand and brought it to his lips.
“Best night ever,” he murmured, kissing her knuckles.
Nina’s heart melted all over again.
“Best night ever,” she agreed. If only she could say the same about the coming day. Something told her it would be a doozy. But surely she could get through anything with Boone at her side?
He handed her his mug of coffee, and she took a sip, savoring the momentary peace. Maybe she and Boone had been lovers in a former life. He felt that familiar, that much a part of her life. Maybe the past she couldn’t remember was actually ten blissful years spent with him. Tracing the lines of his hand, she wondered what life might dish up to her next. Another great find, like Boone, or a crushing blow?
“Well,” she said, trying to sound resolute. “I guess it’s time to find out who I am.”
Boone surprised her by shaking his head. “I already know who you are.”
She froze. Had he snuck out while she was sleeping and looked up her name? Had he opened the mail she’d received at the hotel and found a host of terrible secrets?
But Boone just shrugged and kissed her again. “You’re Nina, and you’re generous. Kind. Responsible.”
She bit her lip and closed her eyes.
Boone flashed a thin grin. “All the things I’m not.”
She yanked on his hand in protest. “You’re generous. You’re kind. You’re…”
He arched an eyebrow, daring her to say it.
She glanced at the surfboards outside, the sea glass in the windows, the flip-flops thrown by the door. Okay, so responsible wasn’t the first word that came to mind. More like Peter Pan — a man who didn’t want to grow up. But that wasn’t the real Boone. She was sure of it.
“You’re responsible about the things that count, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” she said fiercely. Don’t you tell yourself that, she nearly added. If anything was holding Boone back, it was Boone and no one else.
He held her hands in both of his and turned to her, looking more earnest than she’d ever seen him. His lips moved as if to reveal some great secret, though no sound came out. Then he bowed his head and whispered into her hands. “No matter who you turn out to be, Nina, you’ll still be you.” His words gave her such hope, but then he added more in a strangely sad tone. “And I’ll still be me.”
What did he mean by that? What was keeping them apart?
But Boone didn’t look like he was about to add anything, so she stood and faced the sun. There were mysteries everywhere — in the past and the present. As for the future, well… She’d have to take things one step at a time.
She pulled some clothes out of her bag and smoothed her hands over them. Yesterday, she would have given anything to touch something familiar. Now, she was filled with a sense of dread.
“You ready?” Boone asked, motioning to the path that led to the meeting house.
“You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll be right there.” She needed a moment — better yet, an hour — to compose herself.
Boone seemed reluctant, but he nodded and walked up the path. The second he was out of sight, her heart ached. She hugged herself. Was it really possible to feel so connected to someone in such a short time, or was she suffering from some kind of rescued damsel complex? She picked up a piece of sea glass and held it up to the sunlight, watching the color pour through. Red like a ruby. Red like love?
She put it back down and forced herself out the door. This was Boone’s house, not hers, and she had to get moving. She walked up the path, telling herself she already knew who she was. Whatever she was about to discover would just be the details, right?
The path twisted and turned, and when she came out on the lawn by the akule hale — the meeting house — she paused.
Shit. She wasn’t just about to face her past. She also had to face Hunter and Cruz the morning after she’d shagged Boone for hours. Could they tell? Would they judge her for it? Did they even care?
She stepped up to the building slowly, waiting for someone to chuckle or give her a dirty look. But Hunter looked up from his oatmeal with the same bolstering smile he always gave her, and Cruz — well, if Cruz was scowling into his coffee mug, that was par for the course.
Boone, though, looked like he’d just been smacked with a stick. He stood hunched over a newspaper at the counter, and when he looked up at her, his smile was thin.
What? she wanted to shout. What?
Did she have a criminal past? Did she have three children she’d somehow managed to forget? What?
No one said anything as her eyes drifted to the dining table. The mail she’d been given at the hotel was stacked there, untouched, along with several newspapers and what looked like a pile of printouts. She started walking toward them, then detoured to the kitchen. She could use some coffee first. Maybe breakfast, too.
“Nina,” Boone murmured as she rummaged through the refrigerator.
“Anyone want scrambled eggs?” she asked, hiding behind the door. “I’m not much of a cook, but I can whip up some eggs.”
“Nina.”
“Coffee, anyone?” She held up the pot.
“Nina, you need to look at this,” Boone said.
Her hand shook as she poured herself a mug of coffee — excruciatingly slowly, postponing as long as she could. When she finally picked up the mug and set it down near Boone, the spoon clattered and the coffee splashed.
“Darn. I’ll just get a sponge,” she started, but Boone tugged her back. He angled the newspaper toward her and tapped the box on the lower right.
Everyone went quiet. Absolutely quiet. Obviously, they already knew what she was about to find out.
She slid onto the barstool beside Boone and pulled the newspaper closer instead of following instinct by shoving it farther away.
The article Boone indicated was illustrated with a photo of an older man in a business suit, and the headline said—
A good thing Nina hadn’t decided to read the headline out loud. Her jaw would have dropped three-quarters of the way through.
Apparel Industry Tycoon Leaves $50 Million to Waitress in Local Diner, the headline said in bold. Bold and italics as if no one would believe the words if they hadn’t been stressed several times.
Boone unfolded the paper, showing her the second picture. A picture of her wearing a frilly apron around her waist and an uncertain smile, with a caption beneath. “I’m stunned,” unexpected heiress reports.
Stunned. Yeah, stunned was a good word, Nina decided.
She reached for Boone’s hand and clutched it as she started reading.
Lewis McGee dies peacefully at age seventy-eight… Attorneys confirm that last will and testament is fully lawful… Family shocked…
Nina gulped. Yep, shocked was another fitting word.
The first paragraph was about the tycoon who had passed away. Sound of mind and body… A man from modest means who knew what hard work meant…
She looked at the picture again, and yes, she recognized the man’s face, if not the clothes. The image her memory brought up was of a worn sweater and casual pants.
Call me Lewis, she remembered him correcting after she’d started out with Sir.
She held on to the counter. Whoa — she remembered! The diner. The customers. The older gentleman who came by every afternoon when businesses was slow and she had time to chat. A kind widower, that’s what she’d pegged him as. A nice man with a nice smile who treated her like the daughter he never had. A man who always left a tip rounded up from the standard fifteen percent.
Sweet old Lewis was a multimillionaire? She took a deep breath and blinked a few times.
Boone caught her looking at the date at the top of the newspaper. “This is from two weeks ago,” he murmured.
Two weeks?
Nina wiped the tear in her eye and read on. The second paragraph was about her.
Nina Miller, 28… Always on time to her shift, cook reports… “She always has a smile and minute to hear you out,” diner regular reports… Graduate of Cottage Hills High School… Mother dead of ovarian cancer, three years ago…
She stirred her coffee and took a long swallow, blinking back more tears. She read to the end, went back to the beginning, and reread the whole article. Then she stared at her own picture for a while, stunned.
Boone slid a magazine over, and she took it with shaking hands. People magazine had an article about her, too?
Rags to Riches? the article’s subtitle screamed. Nina sucked in a long, slow breath.
The article came with a lot of pictures, mostly of Lewis McGee, his mansion, and his family.
First wife deceased for forty years… estranged from second wife… two stepdaughters…
Black-and-white photos showed a young Lewis beaming next to a woman, while more recent photos showed him next to a different woman in a lavish mink coat. His smile was forced in that one, while the woman glowed triumphantly.
Something in Nina’s mind fluttered like a butterfly. A memory of the day Lewis had come in alone, as he always did, and placed a flower at the place next to his. It’s Mary’s birthday, he’d said.
Mary, the first wife. Her birthday was October 22. Nina remembered that clearly. She’d brought tears to the older man’s eyes by bringing out a piece of cake and singing quietly with him, then blowing out the candle and whispering, Happy birthday, Mary.
The way the old man’s eyes stayed on the wisps of smoke from the candle told her what true love was, and they’d held the same little ceremony every year. The man was full of quirky little facts and stories from times gone by, like how you used to have to dial an operator to place a phone call years ago, and how he’d watched steamers glide in and out of New York Harbor back in the day. An interesting man. A good man. But, whoa — a millionaire? Nina never would have guessed.
The article had pictures of her, too. A grainy high school photo taken from a yearbook. Another one of her lined up at a community college affair. The community college she’d been so excited to start, though she’d had to quit when her mother fell ill.
Ms. Miller is unavailable for comment, but sources close to her report, “She’s keeping her options open.”
Nina snorted, wondering who those sources might be. The more she read, the more the memories trickled back, but there was no BFF or cousin she would have confided in. Everyone she’d been friends with had left Cottage Hills. And heck yes, keeping her options open was a good idea, especially since she had no clue where to begin.
She remembered continuing to turn up to her shift at the diner until the owner pulled her aside. Honey, don’t you think you deserve a break? You have all that money now. Take a vacation and figure things out.
Vacation. Hawaii? Is that why she’d come to Maui?
“Do you remember now?” Boone asked softly.
She nodded slowly. “The lawyer… Lewis’s lawyer said the McGees owned a share in a resort in Hawaii…”
“Kapa’akea Resort,” Hunter murmured, nodding at Boone.
She looked around. Of course. Hunter had seen her name on the envelopes. He would have been able to dig up information from there. She scanned the stacks of newspapers and printouts. “You found all this since yesterday?”
He shrugged. “P.I. license comes in handy at times.”
She stared at the big, burly man. She thought he was a mechanic. In fact, she had been sure he was a mechanic.
“Jack-of-all-trades, master of none,” Cruz murmured at Hunter, ribbing him the way friends do.
Nina looked at Cruz. Was he a private investigator, too?
“So you came to Kapa’akea Resort?” Boone asked, coaxing her on. “Do you remember that?”
She closed her eyes and thought back. She remembered the blinding flashbulbs that had exploded around her anywhere she went for the first few days, and she remembered the lawyer helping arrange a backdoor exit so she could escape the paparazzi. Just while the dust settles, he’d said. I’ll get in touch with you through the resort.
“Do you remember what happened when you got to Maui? Did someone meet you at the airport?” Boone asked.
Nina stood, frowning. “I can’t remember.” Damn it. Why couldn’t she remember?
She started to pace, trying to stimulate useful memories. Not the license plate of her mother’s dinged-up car or the name of the cat she’d had as a kid — Paddington — but something that would shed light on her current situation.
“Who would want to kill me? Why?”
“My money’s on the wife,” Cruz said immediately. “Her and the stepdaughters.”
Nina held her head with both hands. “I don’t even know them. Why would they want me dead?”
“That old geezer left you—”
“His name is Lewis,” she snapped.
Cruz threw his hands up. “He left you fifty million reasons for someone to want you dead.”
“But I didn’t do anything. I never asked for the money. I’m not sure I even want it.”
“Hell, if you don’t want it, give it to me,” Cruz said.
Boone growled and shot Cruz a warning gaze.
Nina took a deep breath, telling herself to piece things together logically. She all but ran to the table where her mail lay and snatched up the thick envelope with the fancy print. Might there be some clue there?
A sheaf of papers slid out, along with a paperback-size package of some kind. She skimmed through the papers quickly.
Dear Ms. Miller, they all started, and most went on in legalese. All she really registered were a few snippets. Things like estate should be settled quickly, or account set up in your name, and all funds should be cleared by the end of the week.
All of it was dry, impersonal, and focused on money. Things she didn’t really care about. She cared about the who. The how. The why.
She turned the package over in her hands. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a string, like a wartime parcel of some kind. There was a note tucked behind the string, and she pulled it out. The script was long and loopy, the way her grandmother’s generation had been taught fine penmanship.
Dear Nina,
There are many crooked souls on earth — but many good people, too. You’re one of the latter. Thank you for all your kindness and good cheer. Thank you for bringing joy to the world, one mugful at a time.
She squeezed her lips together, wondering when Lewis had decided to will so much money to her. Wondering why he never told her.
Money can’t buy love or happiness, but it sure helps keep a roof over your head. My Mary was never one for foolish purchases, and we saved every cent we had. But when I saw her admiring this, I indulged both of us with one fine thing. Mary didn’t wear it out often because she didn’t like to show off, but she wore it at home. She said she loved how the light caught the color. If I had a daughter, I would leave her this, the jewel of my heart. So I leave it to you and wish you all the love, joy, and laughter that was in my dear wife’s heart
Yours truly,
Lewis McGee
Nina ran a finger over the writing, wishing she had a chance to thank Lewis for his trust.
“You gonna open that?” Boone asked quietly.
Nina wasn’t so sure. There was nothing Lewis could have squeezed into that package that could move her as much as his words. When she finally did reach for it, her hand trembled. The package was warm as if it had been left out in the sun. But it had been lying in the shade, and she swore the heat was coming from within the wrapping — or was she imagining that?
Slowly, she untied the knot and unwrapped something the size of a cigar box. Black and shiny, the jewelry box gleamed in the sun. She opened the tiny silver clasp, pushed back the layer of cloth covering what was inside, and—
Nina sucked in a sharp breath and sat down. Hard.
“Oh my God.” She repeated the words a few times. Lewis had left her that?
Footsteps whispered over the floor as Hunter and Cruz came to peer over her shoulder along with Boone, who whistled.
“Holy crap.”
“What is it?” Hunter murmured, and even Cruz seemed drawn in by the mystery.
Carefully, she clasped the silver chain and drew out the jewel, holding it up to the sun.
“A ruby,” she whispered. A ruby almost as big as a golf ball that caught the sunlight and glittered red from a thousand different facets.
“Holy shit,” Cruz muttered.
“A ruby?” Hunter asked, taken aback.
“A ruby.” She nodded, thinking of Lewis’s words. The jewel of my heart.