Found (Not Quite a Billionaire Book 3) (4 page)

I had a number of conversations the next morning. First with Inez.

“I want Karen to tell you where she’s going when she leaves the house,” I told her from my spot at the kitchen counter. “I want Charles to take her, and I’d like you to ring up and . . . check. With the mum, or whoever. She had a boy over here last night, and could be his parents are working and he’s at home alone himself, and I think that’d be bad news. But be subtle,” I thought to add. “Not like you’re checking on her, eh. Just that you’re
checking,
because Hope isn’t here.”

She gave a sniff, pulled the milk out of the fridge, and got busy at the cappuccino machine. “You think I’m stupid? I have three daughters.
Three.
I know how to check on girls. Sixteen is a bad age. They think they know everything, and they know nothing.” She poured heated, milky foam over coffee with the attention of a barista, then slid the cup and saucer onto the counter in front of me and took away the empty cup sitting there. “Decaf.”

“Decaf isn’t going to do the job,” I said.

“You are too tense. Decaf is better.”

For a man who liked to be in control, I had a fair few women giving me their opinions. So I did what any wise man would do. I moved on. “And I should tell you that Hope’s gone to New Zealand for a bit to see my grandfather.”

I was taking a casual sip of coffee when Inez said, “She’s pregnant, and she’s run away.” Which may have made me choke.

“She said she just found out,” I said when I could speak again. “She said that last night. How could you possibly know?” And then I regretted it. I didn’t share information. I didn’t betray uncertainty.

Another sniff. She had a pad and pencil out, was making some sort of list. “What, you think it’s because I’m a witch? Because I have magical powers from the Mayan people? No. I know because she stopped drinking her coffee and thought it tasted strange. Because she would only eat yogurt and toast for breakfast, and if I began cooking meat, she left the kitchen. Because I have three children.”

“Pity I was the last to know,” I muttered. “Could have told me, couldn’t you.”

“It was not my business,” she said primly, and this time,
I
was the one who snorted.

“Karen doesn’t know,” I said. “Best let Hope share it.”

“Again,” she said, “I am not stupid. And you need to be at work, and I have many things to do here. Go.”

“Charles is meant to be giving Karen driving lessons,” I said, getting off the stool and choosing to pretend I hadn’t just been ordered out of my own kitchen. “I’d be happier if he started doing that straight away. Keep her out of trouble, eh. I’ll have a word with him today about that. And see that she cleans up after herself.”

She was still writing, and she didn’t look up. “Why do you think I allow her room to be that way? A way that hurts my head just to look at? Because it’s no good for her for others to do things for her. She has a strong mind. A strong will. She will push. You need to push back.”

“No worries. I got that.”

“And now go,” she ordered.

I looked at her and said, “Maybe I won’t. Reckon I need to push back.”

“Not with me. Me, you need. Go.”

Well, she was right about that.

My conversation with Charles was considerably shorter. When I got into the car five minutes later, I said, “I want you to drive Karen more. Wherever she wants to go. And teach her to drive. Take her to get the . . . permit, or whatever it is, and then practice with her every day.” I’d have Josh check into it and ring Karen with the details. For the LASIK surgery as well. Get that scheduled, and until then? I’d keep her busy.

“OK,” Charles said.

“You won’t be driving Hope for a bit longer,” I said.

Nothing at all for a long minute, then he asked, “She OK?”

“Yeh. But she won’t be back for a bit, so when you take Karen . . . the Y’s all good, and so is her friend’s. Mandy’s. Otherwise, check with Inez before you drop her off.”

His eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror. “Guys?”

“Yeh. Could be.”

He nodded, and that was that. Problem sorted. Pity nothing else today would be that easy.

Hemi

For the rest of the day, I put my head down and worked. I put out fires, I reviewed the revised marketing plans for the Paris show and the launch of the Colors of the Earth line. I focused. I dealt. And I tried not to think about Hope.

I’d told Josh first thing what to do about Karen—the driver’s license, the eye surgery—and then I’d set Karen aside. It was done, and I didn’t do worry. Except that I did. From three o’clock on, when her plane would have landed, I waited for a message from Koro, or, better yet, one from Hope. And heard nothing.

She’ll be waiting until she gets to Katikati,
I told myself.
You’ll hear then.

Surely I would. Because last night, on the way home from the airport, I’d arranged for flowers to be delivered to Koro’s house. Lavender roses, to be exact. I’d done what I hadn’t managed since she’d moved in with me. I’d told Hope she mattered.

Had I felt self-conscious typing the message into the box, knowing that some florist in Tauranga would be printing my words onto a card? Had I felt raw, and exposed, and much too clearly revealed? Yeh. I had. But I always did what was necessary, and I had a feeling this was necessary.

She might need me to let her go. She also needed to know that I still loved her, that I wanted her, and that I wanted our baby, too. And I needed to tell her.

The rest of it, I’d wait to tell her on the phone. I needed to hear her voice, to hear her response, and I needed her to hear mine when I told her how I felt.

I’d asked the florist to make the delivery that afternoon and had paid extra to make sure it happened. I wanted those roses on Koro’s table when Hope walked in the door. I wanted my note to be the first thing she saw. I knew she’d have to text me when she got them, because I knew my Hope.

Except she didn’t. Five o’clock came and went, and then six o’clock did. I finally gave in and texted Koro,
You and Hope get home all right?
and got no reply. Probably still teaching me a lesson, because he had to know I’d be concerned.

Or half out of my mind.

Then it was seven-thirty, and I texted Karen and packed up to go home. It was Women’s Wednesday, the sacrosanct evening when Hope and Karen would watch a movie while they ate dinner on the couch, with popcorn for dessert. Another thing I’d stopped sharing in once I’d achieved my objective and they’d moved in with me. This would be Karen’s first Wednesday without her sister, though, and I needed to go home and do that with her. It would make Hope feel better, and it would make Karen feel better, too. It might even make me feel better, come to that.

Karen was surprised, but she watched with me willingly enough. The idea of the driving lessons had helped clear up her earlier narkiness, I guessed. I even let her pick the film, which was why the credits were rolling on
Little Miss Sunshine
when my phone rang.

I had the phone out of my pocket so fast that the second ring had barely started when I’d noticed the New Zealand number and was saying, “Hello?” I was already headed out to the terrace, too. I wanted to be relaxed for this, or at least to sound that way. Because it was my cousin Tane’s number, and there was only one reason he’d be ringing me. He had to be with Hope.

“Hemi.” It was Hope’s voice, not Tane’s, and the single word sounded tense and stressed. But at least she’d rung me.

“Sweetheart. How are you? With the cuzzies already, eh. Karen and I were just watching this film and wishing you were here. Would’ve made you laugh.” There, that was good. Letting her know I wouldn’t be berating her, even before we got into it. Letting
her
relax.

“Hemi. I . . . I . . . It’s Koro.”

It was still heat-wave warm outside, and the gooseflesh had risen on my arms all the same. “Tell me.”

“I just . . . he’s alive. But I should have called you. Why didn’t I call you?” Her voice was high, nearly out of control.

“Hope.” I put all my command into it. “Stop. Take a breath. A deep one. Let it out, then take two more. Don’t talk. Breathe.”

I heard the sharp inhalation, then silence, and finally, in a slightly calmer tone, “OK.”

“Right. Now tell me. What happened?”

“He didn’t come to get me. I thought he must have forgotten, or got the date wrong, or changed his mind. I couldn’t reach him, and I couldn’t think what to do, so I just came anyway. And all these hours . . .”

The pitch of her voice was rising again. I said, “You don’t have to tell me that now. You don’t have to think about that now. Just tell me what happened.”

“He said he fell. He was saying something when we were waiting for the ambulance. Muttering something. He was coming to get me, and somehow, he fell. He broke his arm, too, I think, or his shoulder, because it was all . . . wrong. Twisted wrong.” Her voice wobbled on the words. “And he hit his head on the corner of the dresser. So hard. He bled so much, and the paramedic said he was in shock. It’s cold here, and it was a long time
.
He’s been taken to the hospital, and Tane—he’s taking me there now. We’re going, and he’s called some other people. Your family. He saw the ambulance and came over. But Hemi.” There were tears, now. “He’d been lying there for eight
hours.
I’m so . . . I’m so sorry.”

“No,” I said. “You didn’t know. And you
did
find him, and got him help, too.”

“If I’d called you, you could have had somebody check on him. He wouldn’t have been there all this time.”

“And if I’d called somebody else when I couldn’t reach him,” I said, “he wouldn’t have been lying on the floor for eight hours. I didn’t call, because it would’ve hurt my pride to do it. And you didn’t call me because it would’ve hurt yours. How did you get there? To Katikati?”

“On the bus.” Her voice was thready, so exhausted and distressed, and I felt a surge of worry to go along with the fear for Koro.

“Have you slept?”

“Not . . . not much.”

Tane’s voice, now, practically vibrating the phone out of my hand. “Cuz. You’d better get your arse out here. Koro’s not too flash, and Hope isn’t much better. Why the hell did you let her come like this, without taking better care of her? And why didn’t you or Koro tell us she was coming? One of us could’ve gone to collect her, instead of her getting here dripping wet and dead tired, and Koro lying there with his head split open.”

“I’m coming now,” I said. “I’m on my way.”