Dana L. Evans
Sugar Palm Hill
Chapter 1
Copyright © 2020 by Dana L. Evans. All rights reserved. No part of this website may be reproduced in
any form without written permission granted by Dana L. Evans.
Two
weeks
of
sweltering
heat
had
smothered
the
elegant
little
town
of
Redlands.
Now
lightning
and
rain
dripped
from
the
hot
California
sky.
Monica
dabbed
a
drop
of
French
perfume
lightly
on
her
neck.
It
was
as
she
stared
out
the
window
she
began to think. This is so romantic!
Perhaps, tonight with David will be different.
Fastening
her
white
strapless
dress,
she
stepped
into
her
three-inch
heels,
just
as
David
pushed
open
the
door.
“I’m
home, let’s go!”
Driving
fast
as
usual,
he
didn’t
say
much
in
the
car.
It
was
the
oval
speedometer
that
kept
him
busy.
Arriving
at
the
front
of
the
restaurant,
the
young
attendant
in
a
green
polo
shirt
greeted
them,
and
before
David
could
hit
the
unlock
button,
the
valet was at Monica’s door.
“Wow! Great dress, hope you have a good evening ma’am,” he said to her.
She smiled and nodded.
David pulled out a dollar and reached it across to the boy. “I’m a self-parking kind of guy,” then sped off.
The attendant held up the dollar, “Gee, thanks.”
Monica
looked
at
him
and
felt
her
cheeks
warm.
But
a
fancy
Italian
sports
car
quickly
pulled
up,
taking
the
valet
away.
David hated those cars — thought they were unreliable.
As
she
entered
the
restaurant,
the
maître
d’
stared
at
her.
It
was
the
era
of
elegance
and
beauty,
and
Monica
had
it
all.
The
luster
of
her
natural
blonde
hair
brushing
her
bare
shoulders
and
that
icy
glamour
—
all
eyes
turned
to
look
as
she
gracefully walked through the room.
Tall
palms
with
smooth
trunks,
in
terra
cotta
pots,
sat
on
the
black
and
white
tile
floor.
Word
was
out
the
restaurant
was
nice,
but
it
was
far
better
than
she
expected.
Dramatic
white
canvas
awnings
hung
over
most
of
the
tables,
giving
it
a
sophisticated
tropical
feeling,
like
dining
at
a
resort
on
vacation.
A
black
lacquered
grand
piano
sat
in
the
center
of
the
room,
while ceiling fans circulated above, seeming to keep rhythm to the song the man was playing.
Vaguely
realizing
her
brother
Paul,
and
sister-in-law
Julie,
had
joined
them,
she
noticed
an
extremely
handsome
man
headed toward their table.
“Thank
you
for
coming.
I’m
Victor
Dimarco.”
Watching
him
shake
hands
with
Paul
and
David,
she
could
see
the
white
cuff
on
his
light
blue
shirt
was
monogrammed.
Still
smiling
he
nodded
at
Julie,
then
stared
directly
at
Monica.
As
he
left
their
table
she felt an unusual sensation, a connection she had never experienced, and for a moment it troubled her.
One
booth
over,
from
a
rolling
cart
filled
with
assorted
oils
and
ground
seasonings,
the
waiter
was
putting
on
quite
a
show
as
he
deliberately
lit
something
in
a
pan
on
fire.
Soon
the
delicious
aroma
drifted
toward
them.
Already
growing
restless,
David
was
squirming
around
in
his
chair.
His
jaw
muscles
twitched,
as
they
did
when
he
was
hungry
or
bored.
Politely
waiting
to one side for the proper opening, a waiter in a white tuxedo stepped up.
“Our specials tonight include filet mignon, broiled to perfection, with a béarnaise sauce and mushrooms.”
“Save the fancy stuff,” David quickly said, buttering his roll. “I’m having plain steak, well done, no mushrooms, no sauce.”
Paul laughed, “Of course you are. Maybe tonight you should try something different?”
With
every
hair
in
place
and
a
perfect
smile,
David
answered,
“As
I
tell
our
customers
at
the
dealership,
if
it’s
still
running
good, leave it alone.”
Monica
laughed.
“As
many
cooking
classes
as
we’ve
taken,
Julie,
he
still
wants
steak
and
a
stuffed
baked
potato
every
night!”
“Don’t forget my beer, in a tall frosted glass with lime,” David added, smiling.
“Look
around,
this
restaurant
is
completely
full
on
a
Thursday
night!”
Paul
interjected.
“So
far
what
I
really
like,
they
didn’t
skimp on the amount of vodka they pour. I’m impressed.”
Monica
couldn’t
help
but
notice
Victor
Dimarco
passing
close
by,
going
to
the
man
at
the
piano
and
requesting
certain
songs. Casually, he glanced across at her.
Julie
leaned
over
and
whispered,
“I
think
someone’s
watching
you!”
Monica
smiled
nonchalantly,
but
noted
in
her
mind
the
cut
of
his
tan
suit
and
how
he
walked
with
assurance
in
his
Italian
shoes.
She
had
seen
such
shoes
as
she
browsed
through
her magazines.
“Listen to the music!” Julie giggled. “Paul, that’s the song that helped us fall in love.”
“Yes,
it
set
the
mood
for
many
um…great
nights,
as
I
recall.”
He
whispered
something
in
her
ear,
and
then
they
headed
to
the dance floor. Monica looked at David wistfully and knew he wouldn’t dance; except maybe one slow one on New Year’s Eve.
Finishing her Australian crusted sea bass, Monica glanced over toward the next table; Victor Dimarco’s table.
The
restaurant’s
signature
dessert,
coconut-amaretto
cream
cake,
sat
in
front
of
him.
Beautiful,
it
looked
positively
decadent,
just
as
the
waiter
had
described
to
them.
Extending
his
finger,
Victor
dipped
it
into
the
cream
topping.
She
tried
not
to stare, but noticed a drop left on his lip. David caught her eye and asked, “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing
.
.
.
your
tie.
It’s
great.”
She
fussed
with
the
white
napkin
on
her
lap,
and
then
casually
turned
toward
Victor.
He
grinned
at
her,
as
he
finished
the
last
piece.
Moments
later,
the
waiter
brought
coconut-amaretto
cream
cake
on
a
tray
to
their
table.
Paul, being the lawyer, needed details, “Who sent this?”
“It’s compliments of the restaurant and Mr. Dimarco,” the waiter said.”
Taking
her
first
bite,
she
glanced
at
Victor
as
he
licked
the
end
of
his
cigar,
and
lit
it.
She
watched
how
slowly
it
took
the
smoke
to
rise,
and
it
gave
her
a
sensual
feeling.
Later,
standing
to
leave,
she
glanced
around
the
black
and
white
room,
and
he
was gone.
At
home,
rain
started
falling
again,
and
the
pattering
as
it
hit
the
window
was
nice.
She
thought
about
the
words
David
whispered
so
often
before
they
got
married.
“When
we’re
in
the
same
bed
all
the
time,
I’ll
relax.
You’ll
see,
romance
and
passion
will
come.”
In
the
darkness,
she
tossed
back
and
forth
as
her
mind
wandered
to
their
wedding
reception.
Most
of
the
time,
David
was
off
with
his
golfing
buddies.
Alone
she
went
from
table
to
table,
thanking
people
for
coming.
When
it
was
time
to
cut
the
cake
David’s
father
had
to
find
him;
he
had
disappeared.
Remembering
more
about
that
night,
there
was
no
particular excitement for her. Actually, she thought the guests seemed happier than she felt.
David
was
lightly
snoring.
Fluffing
her
pillow,
and
like
many
times
before,
quietly
in
the
dark,
she
cried
herself
to
sleep.
The
beautiful
rain
had
stopped,
and
the
previous
evening
seemed…long
ago.
David
left
the
house
early
for
a
round
of
golf
at
the
club.
Walking
through
her
new
home,
eating
a
piece
of
buttered
toast,
natural
light
shone
through
the
open
shutters
onto
her
white
sofa
and
across
the
polished
old
wood
floors.
She
ran
her
hand
along
the
carved
fireplace;
the
new
paint was dry. Out loud she said, “This room is beautiful!”
In the kitchen, she squeezed a pitcher of lemonade and headed to the garage.
David
climbed
out
of
his
Mercedes,
bragging,
“We
won
our
tournament.
The
‘Wild
Bunch’
is
undefeated.”
Popping
a
cold
beer open he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Unpacking the last of our things. I found the gear you’ll need next week!”
Sugar Palm Hill
Chapter 1
Copyright © 2020 by Dana L. Evans. All rights reserved. No part of this
website may be reproduced in any form without written permission
granted by Dana L. Evans.
That
horrifying
image
of
what
he
did,
will
it
ever
leave
me?
Jade-R paused, her heart pounding.
Entering
the
hospital,
she
took
a
deep
breath,
adjusted
the
collar
on
her
blouse
and
headed
down
the
long
corridor.
Moments
later
she
stood
beside
him.
Sunlight
streamed
through
the
window
and
fell
across
the
bed.
Her
father’s
face
had
lost
the
powerful
look
it
once
had,
and
his
thick
dark
hair
was
gray.
It
was
the
first
time
she
had
seen
him
since
that
lurid night. His eyes, transfixed with terror, stared up at her.
Suddenly
clenching
his
fist,
he
began
gasping
for
his
last
breath.
With
a
feverish
chill
she
reached
out
and
touched
his
arm.
He
did
not
respond,
and
soon
the
nurses
removed
his
oxygen
tube
and
IVs.
Now
it
was
over.
The
black
framed
clock
on
the
wall
showed
11:00
a.m.
A
quick
thought
flashed
through
her
mind
as
they
covered
him
with
a
white
sheet,
Will
the
gates
of
heaven
or
hell
be
waiting?
She
wiped
a
burning
tear
as
it
rolled
down
her
face,
put
on
sunglasses
and
walked
out
of
the
hospital
to
the
waiting
limousine
parked
at
the
curb.
Official
flags
fluttered
on
the
front
of
the
black
government
car,
and
people
stood
watching
in
the
blistering
heat as the limo sped through town.
Turning
onto
the
loop
in
the
road
she
could
finally
see
the
mansion,
drenched
in
sparkling
sunshine,
sprawled
across
the
hilltop.
She
smiled
at
its
remembered
elegance.
At
the
guardhouse
they
stopped
long
enough
for
Napo,
the
chauffeur,
to
give
his
usual
nod
to
the
man
on
duty.
Winding
up
the
long
driveway
past
lush
green
plants,
they
arrived
at
the entrance.
Napo
jumped
out
to
open
her
door.
“Glad
you’re
home,”
he said.
She
patted
the
cuff
on
his
navy
blue
suit
and
replied,
“Thank
you,”
noticing
the
freckles
across
his
nose
had
lightened.
Or
maybe
she
had
forgotten.
But
his
wide
smile
and polite manner, as always, were comforting.
The
living
room
with
its
polished
blue
marble
floors
still
seemed
enormous.
The
rich
sweeping
view
through
walls
of
glass
to
the
tropical
turquoise
sea
was
endless,
with
white
clouds
floating
above.
Picking
up
a
photo
of
her
gorgeous
American
mother,
she
admired
how
her
arms
were
gracefully
crossed.
Quickly
Jade-R
placed
her
hand
over
her
heart
and
sighed.
In
that
picture,
her
mother
was
wearing
a
familiar
diamond and emerald ring with matching bracelet.
Heading
on
to
her
grand
piano,
she
stopped
for
a
moment
and
ran
her
fingers
down
the
genuine
ivory
keys
and
listened
as
the
sound
echoed
through
the
room,
reminding
her of the long hours she was made to practice.
Pushing
the
doors
open
to
the
formal
dining
room,
which
had
always
been
her
favorite
spot,
she
recalled
the
summer
when
she
was
eight
years
old,
lying
on
the
floor
watching
the
artist
handpaint
a
white
coral
motif
around
sections
of
the
ceiling,
eventually
running
it
down
the
corners.
Now
more
than
ever,
the
chandelier
seemed
to
sparkle,
with
blue
crystal
prisms
intertwined
with
huge
pieces
of
natural
coral.
Flopped
across
a
bamboo
chair
was
her
patched
tabby
cat named
Max.
“You
grew
up
to
be
a
big
boy.
I
told
you
you’d
be
beautiful!”
She
rubbed
his
head
as
he
rapidly
swished
his
distinctive
striped
salt-and-pepper
tail.
She
had
interrupted
the
cat’s
nap
and
Max
was
irritated.
Amused,
she
watched
as
he
darted
off
and
then
remembered,
Dogs
have
masters;
cats
have staff.
Making
her
way
to
the
kitchen,
she
found
the
faithful
servants
listening
to
the
radio
just
as
the
announcement
was
made:
“The
governor
is
dead.”
Immediately
one
of
the
older
servants
bowed
her
head
into
her
starched
white
apron
and
began
to
cry.
The
cook
dropped
a
stainless
steel
pan
that
went
crashing
to
the
floor,
and
then
covered
her
mouth
in
disbelief.
Suddenly
both
servants
looked
up
at
Jade-R,
stunned,
completely
dazed,
as
if
they
were
seeing
a
ghost.
Tears
flowed
as
she
hugged
them,
but
still
in
shock
they
continued to stare at her.
Later,
walking
the
long
hallway
lined
with
matching
chandeliers,
the
one
so
many
times
as
a
kid
she
had
roller-
skated
down,
Jade-R
finally
reached
her
room.
To
her
surprise
nothing
had
changed.
She
wrapped
her
arms
around
the
custom
post
on
her
bed
and
looked
up
at
the
ornately
carved
wood
pineapples
resting
on
top.
Her
large
dramatic
bed
jutted
out
from
the
oval
end
of
the
room.
Draperies
on
the
tall
glass
doors were pale pink silk with a subtle palm tree design.
She
grabbed
a
handful
of
fabric,
pressing
it
against
her
face,
to
enjoy
the
softness.
She
had
forgotten
how
pretty,
how
elegant
they
were.
Glancing
toward
the
dresser
she
noticed
her
youthful
keepsakes,
such
as
the
whimsical
poem
with
frayed
paper
edges,
ripped
from
her
favorite
book,
still
taped
to
the
mirror;
and
the
coconut
she
had
hand-painted
one
rainy day long ago.
On
a
table,
stacks
of
unopened
books
caught
her
eye
and
she
stood
fixed
on
them,
knowing
all
those
years
of
reading
had
helped
her
survive
that
terrible
journey.
She
dropped
her
head
and
fought
tears,
sick
with
the
memory
of
those
tragic
events,
and
how
it
all
began
in
1959…on
the
Island of Guam.
Her
father
the
governor,
always
loving,
spent
plenty
of
time
doting
on
her
with
a
constant
stream
of
gifts.
He
gave
her
a
pony
she
named
Oatmeal.
He
built
a
huge
swimming
pool,
but
no
one
was
allowed
to
come
swim.
When
she
would
ask,
his
answer
was,
“They
are
not
worthy.”
Boasting,
but
somewhat
irritated,
he
would
add,
“You
are
my
only
child.
I
teach
you
at
home,
and
I
hire
the
best.
I
won’t
allow
my
daughter
to
associate
with
other
kids,”
pointing
his
finger,
adding, “not of your level.”
He
made
sure
her
dresses
were
tailor
designed
and
from
the
finest
cloth
imported
from
Hong
Kong.
The
local
jeweler
created
custom
buttons
in
18
karat
gold,
all
of
which
were
either
shaped
like
island
flowers,
or
“P”
for
Princess,
inlaid
with
diamonds,
rubies
and
emeralds,
the
only
ones
to
be
sewn on her clothes.
When
political
functions
were
held
at
the
governor’s
mansion,
her
governess,
a
sweet
lady
named
Kimea,
would
help
her
into
a
gold
silk
dress,
and
then
escort
her
to
her
father.
She
loved
how
tightly
he
held
her
hand,
while
proudly
introducing
her
to
his
guests.
However,
before
long
she
would
be
sent
back
to
her
room.
One
such
night
it
was
warm,
so
she
pulled
back
the
drapes
to
let
in
some
air.
The
band
was
playing,
and
through
the
open
window
she
could
hear
the
beautiful
music
and
see
people
dancing.
At
the
buffet
line
she
noticed
the
lieutenant
governor’s
son,
her
age,
standing
and
laughing
with
his
parents
as
she
watched
from
the
lonely
darkness of her room.
Only
a
collection
of
plastic
spoons
was
a
tangible
reminder
of
the
one
day
a
week
she
was
allowed
off
the
compound.
On
those
days,
Napo
would
drive
Jade-R
and
the
governor
to
the
local
Dairy
Queen.
One
afternoon
her
father
telephoned
to
say
he
couldn’t
make
it,
but
that
evening
surprised
her.
It
had
never
happened
before,
the
excitement
of being out at night together!
While
she
ate
peppermint
ice
cream
from
a
cup,
next
door
a
movie
began
to
play
on
a
huge
screen.
She
didn’t
know
this
existed!
Cars
were
parked
side
by
side,
with
speakers
resting on their windows.
Thrilled,
and
quickly
taking
it
all
in,
Jade-R
begged
to
stay
and
watch
the
movie.
Gruffly
her
father
answered,
“A
drive-in?
No. That will never be for you.”
The
ride
home
was
quiet.
They
passed
a
small
hamburger
place
and
from
the
car
window
she
could
see
young kids her age having fun.
Most
nights
being
isolated
made
her
wonder,
What
would it be like to have friends and just do teenage things?
However,
as
time
passed,
she
continued
respecting
her
father’s wishes … until one night.
Dana L. Evans
