Reluctant Witness (60 page)

“I think she’s trying to get you married
off.”

“You think? It’s a good thing I already love
you, or I’d dump you faster than Kim Kardashian dumped Kris
Humphries, just to teach her not to meddle in my life.”

I could barely contain my mirth as we hurried
into the building and up to my penthouse on the top floor. As soon
as we were inside, I burst out laughing. “You would do that? Give
me up just to punish her?”

“Well, I might pretend to give you up, just
to give her a good scare.”

“You, sir, are shameless!”

His strong arms wrapped around me, fastening
our bodies together with a strength that surprised and excited me.
I wanted to get lost in the passion that welled up in me. I wanted
to be swept away by the desire I felt for him and the desire I knew
he felt for me. I wanted to lose myself in the moment, but Jeff
suddenly pulled away from me.

“I should go,” he told me, his voice still
husky with unspoken love. “We don’t want to give the incurable
romantics any reason to think their work as matchmakers is done, or
your father any reason to think my pursuit of you is anything but
honorable.”

“Rats!” I groaned, trying hard to reel in my
disappointment.

“Don’t worry, Chris. We have a lifetime to
catch up on all the love we’ve missed. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I hope so.” With our arms entwined, we
crossed the living room.

“I know so.” He paused at the door, his hand
on the knob, to kiss me one more time. How I hated to see him go.
“Shall I meet you here at eight?”

“You shall, I’ll see you then.”

I lay in bed a short time later, Cooper
beside me. I could hear the soothing sound of the ocean in the
distance; the waves rolled in and out in a rhythm that seemed to
say all was right with the world. That was the moment I realized my
days of running really were over. There was no boogey man hiding
under my bed or in the closet. There was no hired hit man lurking
in the shadows. For the first time in weeks, ever since I left my
Lake Placid apartment, I was actually alone at night, on my own. I
had only my canine companion for company, and he was quite content
to curl up at my side and sleep. Things were definitely looking up
for the former Marigold Flowers. This was paradise.

I was up at seven, in time to see the morning
light trickle into the bedroom through the slats of the plantation
shutters. After slipping into shorts and a tee shirt, I stepped out
onto the balcony to enjoy the splendor that lay before me.

The resort was quiet at this time of morning.
A few beachcombers were straggling back from their early morning
strolls along the shore -- early birds who had gotten up to watch
the sun rise over the water. That golden orange orb seemed to float
just above the horizon, its beautiful glow spreading across the
calm waters like liquid gold. It augured a promising start to the
day.

“What do you think, boy? Is it time to go
out?” Cooper’s little tail wagged enthusiastically at the offer.
With his harness on, the dog and I went down in the elevator and
out to the path for Cooper’s first walk of the day.

My gaze strayed over to the Cornwalls’ lanai.
P. J.’s head was buried in his newspaper as he and his wife sat at
the outdoor dining table. Liz waved, coffee mug in hand. She turned
towards the sliding glass doors and a moment later, Jeff appeared.
He hurried over to where I stood, waiting for Cooper to finish his
sniffing exercise.

“How did you sleep, Chris?”

“Very well, thanks. How about you?”

“I can’t complain. Let’s take the little guy
on the bike path.”

We walked as the sun ascended in the sky; we
were deep in discussion about Hawaiian life. Jeff had explored all
of the islands, and he had several favorite experiences. By the
time we got back, it was seven thirty. The others had already
assembled for breakfast. We could see them sitting at a table on
the restaurant terrace.

“Shall we join them?”

“Oh, I wanted to shower before we leave for
the farm,” I sighed, disappointed.

“There’s still time. If you’ve got eggs and
bread, I’ll make us some breakfast at your place.”

“Lovely!”

Chapter Fifty
Three

I hurried through my shower, and when I
emerged with wet hair fifteen minutes later, I found Jeff had made
a pot of coffee for us. He sat at the glass dining table on the
lanai, checking his emails while he waited for me. Coop was dozing
at his feet, content to lie in the early morning sun.

“I’m keeping the toast and scrambled eggs
warm in the oven,” he informed me.

“A girl could get used to this,” I
grinned.

“A girl should,” was his recommendation. “Are
you ready to meet the real deal?”

“Real deal for what?”

“Let’s see how long it takes you to figure
out this mystery,” was all Jeff would say, no matter how hard I
tried to wheedle the answer out of him.

We joined the others down in the parking lot
just before nine. It was decided that Jeff would drive us, since
his rented SUV had room for seven. I climbed into the far back with
Coop. Much to my surprise, Liz scrambled in beside me. My dad and
Lara took the middle seats. That left Jeff and his dad up in
front.

“Have you been to Hawaii before, Chris?”
Jeff’s mother wanted to know.

“No, it’s my first trip. This has beach and
mountains -- it’s so different from Florida.”

I cringed as soon as that slipped out,
chastising myself for giving too much personal information. I knew
I wasn’t supposed to talk about where I had previously been. It had
been drilled into my brain over the years by the marshals. But
here, no one seemed to notice or think it odd.

“Very,” Liz replied smoothly. “Like night and
day.”

“The best place to grow coffee on Kauai tends
to be on the southwest side of the island, which is better
protected from the trade winds,” my father explained as we got
under way. “It’s important to have the right mix of sun, good
volcanic soil, and water.”

Jeff drove us south, hugging the coast along
the Kuhio Highway. We chatted as the miles fell away. When he
eventually turned onto Route 50, meandering across the island in
the direction of Kalaheo, I noticed the wind had picked up. The
terrain was very different at this elevation.

“You’ll find there are several large
reservoirs up here,” P. J. announced from the front seat. “There’s
some great sport fishing to be found on Kauai.”

“Freshwater fish?” My father had long been a
dedicated angler.

“Absolutely. My favorite is the peacock bass,
because it will fight every step of the way.”

I let my mind wander as the men discussed
tackle and bait. It had been a long time since I had felt at home
in a crowd, but I did now with Lara and the Cornwalls. It felt good
to belong.

A short time later, Jeff turned onto Umiumi
Road and we soon spotted a sign for the Paradise Coffee and Spice
Company. In the distance, we could see coffee trees planted in neat
rows on the hillside. Further down the road, Lara pointed out a
grove of cacao trees on one side of the road and banana,
breadfruit, guava, and citrus trees on the other.

Entering through an open gateway, flanked on
either side by colorful tropical flower beds, Jeff steered the SUV
up the long and winding driveway, leading us through pastureland. A
couple of horses grazed contentedly in one field. In the adjacent
field were a dozen or so goats.

“Those kikos are used for vegetation
management, Chris,” my father announced. “They get rid of the
weeds.”

“Indeed,” Lara concurred. “They’re bred to be
hardy, self-sufficient foragers. Every few weeks, the herd gets
rotated to another pasture. Nature’s lawnmowers.”

Along the fence, a mix of daisies and
Black-eyed Susans seemed to hum with activity. I could see
butterflies and bees hovering around the blossoms.

“Isn’t it glorious?” There was awe in Lara’s
voice as she gazed out the window at the sight.

“Beautiful,” said my father.

I glanced up in time to see my father smile
affectionately at the woman next to him, and as I did, I felt a
gentle poke in the side. Liz gave me a conspiratorial grin.

“Looks like the birds and bees are hard at
work,” she remarked slyly. I stifled a giggle.

“They are,” Lara sighed, a gleam in her eyes,
“so very busy.”

At the top of the hill sat a lush garden.
Here the driveway separated into two directions. The left fork led
towards a big green barn, situated in a grove of hardwood trees;
the right fork continued to the top of the hill, where a
traditional Hawaiian-style house with an expansive covered lanai
sat.

As Jeff steered the SUV toward the barn, I
gazed at the colorful flowers and decided this was one of the
butterfly gardens created to entice the pollinators. I could see
purple passion flowers climbing up the rustic trellis at the
entrance. Roses thrived in the abundant morning sunshine, their
cheerful pink heads pointed up at the sky. Bougainvillea, heavy
with fuchsia blossoms, cascaded over the rustic split rail fence.
Stacked beehive boxes, painted in pastel colors, were scattered
here and there along the pathways, surrounded by thistles, bee
balm, and daisies that invited the bees to get busy. Centered in a
gravel courtyard in the middle of the lush landscaping, a gurgling
verdigris fish seemed to leap through the air, as a gentle trickle
of water spilled from its mouth into the small pool below.

“Camille promised to meet us at the barn,”
Liz announced to the group. “She said we should park in the
shade.”

Jeff followed his mother’s instructions,
pulling the SUV under the leafy canopy of a monkey pod tree. He
rolled up the windows before shutting off the Explorer. We all
piled out, stretching our legs as we gazed at the horizon before
us. Here we were, near the top of Kauai.

“I can’t believe we can see the ocean from up
here. It’s gorgeous,” I said with admiration. “And look at those
mountains!”

“Beautiful,” my father agreed. “It’s enough
to take your breath away.”

“It is. Ah, there she is!” Lara suddenly
reached her arm up, waving her hand in the air. A petite woman in a
colorful sundress, her hair twisted into an elaborate French braid,
strode across the driveway, waving back at us cheerfully.

“Bonjour! Bonjour! At last, you have come to
my farm!” Camille hugged Lara, Liz, and P. J. in turn before
shaking hands with my father and me. Her blue eyes were warm, her
smile gracious. When she got to Jeff, she gave him a dimpled smile.
“After all this time, you finally deign to visit us! Étienne will
be thrilled to see you again, mon ami.”

She kissed Jeff on both cheeks before she
threw her arms around him for a hug, mindful of his back. I noticed
he returned the affection.

“You look well,” she told him. “It has been
too long.”

“It has. But I am here now and I can’t wait
for the tour. Your farm is amazing, truly amazing. How many acres
do you have?”

As I watched the happy
reunion, I found myself wondering if Nora Hazen had been a complete
figment of Lisbeth Causley’s imagination. Perhaps not. Perhaps
Camille was a friend of the woman who inspired
Vanilla Orchid Magic
.

We went inside the barn, the heart of the
Paradise Coffee and Spice Company. Inside, there were people
working at long sorting tables. To one side, big plastic bags of
green coffee beans were stacked on pallets.

“We send the beans to the Kauai Roastery in
Waimea. The Loero family takes care of packaging and shipping our
estate coffee once it’s out of the roasting machine, so it is not
necessary for us to maintain our own facilities. That allows us to
focus on the farming end of the coffee business.”

My father and Lara were in all their glory,
discussing coffee with Camille as we moved through the barn’s
interior. A short time later, an attractive, fifty-something man
with an infectious grin wandered in.

“Étienne!”

“Jefferson!”

“Chrisanth, Woody, I’d like you to meet my
husband.” Camille introduced us to the newcomer. As she stood
there, her arm around the Frenchman’s waist, I realized I was
staring at the real-life versions of Nora and Jean-Claude.

I’m not sure what it was that gave it all
away. Maybe it was the way Jeff studied husband and wife, as if
searching for signs of discontent or discord in their relationship.
Why did it matter so much to him?

Camille had an easygoing, affable
personality, much like Nora’s, but I could imagine her easily
speaking her mind with confidence. Her husband clearly adored her,
watching her affectionately as she herded us towards the door.

“You’ll have to forgive the hectic activity
in here. The company has a rush order to ship, so there’s a
scramble to get the beans all bagged and trucked to the roaster.
Let’s step outside and we’ll show you around the farm. This is a
good time of day to visit. The sun is not too hot. We’ll ride.”

We piled into electric golf carts and spent
the next three quarters of an hour examining the different crops
grown at the Paradise Coffee and Spice Company. Camille took Liz
and the botanists in her cart, navigating the dirt path to the
citrus grove. Étienne drove P. J., Jeff and me in his cart. After
admiring the orange, lemon, and grapefruit trees, we moved on to
the bananas, and from there, to the mountain apples.

My father wanted to know all about the drip
irrigation system used on the farm. Camille showed him the tubing
that was installed along each of the rows. Lara wanted to know
whether the coffee trees that showed the greatest amount of fungus
were closest to the water source and whether the water itself might
actually be helping to spread the rust. When Camille and the
botanists began to discuss the situation in depth, Étienne led the
rest of us deeper into the tropical forest, along a trail that
passed a waterfall cascading down the hillside.