I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) (8 page)

“If it’s r
eal, they’ll be able to keep their shorts on a little longer. And if it isn’t, you’ll be saving them from a big mistake if you stay out of it.”

***

At nine o’clock that morning a stranger showed up at my shop door. I looked out the window and saw a girl with short brown hair styled in a pixie cut, a bright smile, and a flawless complexion. Her brown eyes sparkled with anticipation.

I love that look. It’s the glow brides radiate from the first day of their engagement until about a week before their wedding. Around a week prior to the event most of them trade the glow for a deer-in-the-headlights look. Of course, I wouldn’t exactly know what a deer looks like as it faces down an on-coming car since we don’t have deer on Maui. In fact, we don’t have much of anything in the way of forest mammals except an occasional wild boar. But from what I’ve heard, deer are masters at looking terrified. And so are only-a-week-away brides.

“Hi, Pali,” the girl said. “Open up; it’s me.” The voice was familiar. Kaili’s mainland accent.

“Wow, I hardly recognized you,” I said as I unlocked the door to let her in. Truth was
, I hadn’t recognized her at all. But I wasn’t willing to cop to being so clueless.

“Aunt Lani helped me with my hair. You like it?”

“It looks great. And here’s another lesson in ‘blending.’ Here in Hawaii we refer to our aunts as our ‘aunties.’ It’s just the way we say it. In fact, we call any older woman we like ‘auntie’ as well.”

“Should I call you ‘auntie’?”

“Don’t push it, sweetie. I said an ‘
older
woman.’ I’m talking about someone you can tell is at least fifteen to twenty years older than you.”

She rai
sed her eyebrows as if to say, “
and your point is…”

“Anyway,” I went on. “Calling
a woman ‘auntie’ shows you like her and you think of her as
‘ohana
.”

“What’s
‘ohana
? I remember your friend Keahou used that word.”

“It means ‘family.’ You’ll see it everywhere. It’s a big deal in Hawaii. Nothing’s more important than family.”

“Not at my house.”

“Oh?”

“My mom and dad got divorced and I don’t have any brothers or sisters—well, not any real ones anyway. My mom moved us over here so she wouldn’t have to deal with my dad and my dad’s new wife. So I guess my
‘ohana
is kinda sad—just two people.”

I chuckled. “You wish. Over here you don’t get off just counting your parents and siblings as family. In Hawaii all your relatives up to fourteen steps removed are blood
‘ohana
. That includes all your aunties and uncles, your grandparents and their grandparents, second- and third- and even fourth-cousins. Add in all the special people you choose to consider
‘ohana
and before long, everywhere you turn you’re bumping into
‘ohana
.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“It’s a great thing. You ever see the movie, ‘Lilo and Stitch’?”

“Is that the cartoon about the little Hawaiian girl and the blue animal from outer space with the big ears?”

“That’s it. In the movie, Lilo tells Stitch that in Hawaii, “
‘Ohana
means family. And family means nobody gets left behind.’ I think that’s a good way of describing it.”

“Yeah.
It’s nice.” She slipped a small backpack off her shoulder and began rooting around in it. “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you. My aunt—I mean my ‘auntie’—Lani got it for you when we went to the store to get the stuff to color my hair.” She handed me a small package wrapped in sky blue paper.

“
Mahalo
,” I said.

“Wait, I know that one. It’s on the trash cans at McDonald’s. It means ‘thank you,’ right?
”

“That’s right.”

I peeled the wrapping away. Inside was a piece of stained glass about six-inches square. It was a symmetrical pattern of sea-glass colors framed in koa wood.

“It’s called a ‘sun catcher’,” said Kaili. “See how the blues and greens look like the ocean? Auntie Lani said it’s a pattern from some famous guy who did stained glass. I can’t remember his name.”

“Frank Lloyd Wright,” I said. “He designed the windows at the King Kamehameha Golf Club in Wailuku.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the guy.”

“This is really pretty,” I said. “
Mahalo
.”

“Is there a Hawaiian word for ‘you’re welcome’?”

“You know, I don’t know a good Hawaiian word for ‘you’re welcome.’ In my
‘ohana
when somebody gives you a gift you give them a hug. I figure that’s pretty much how you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

I put out my arms and we hugged.

“Okay, enough
kumbaya
,” I said. “We’ve got to get to work. I’m going out of town and I need to leave work a little early today.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m heading over to the Big Island for a relaxing weekend and to track down a birth certificate for one of my brides.”

“She doesn’t have one?”

“I’m sure she does, but there was a mix-up when she was adopted.”

“She was adopted?”

“Yeah.” I thought about telling Kaili about how Hawaiian
hanai
adoption worked but decided to let it go. I figured it’d be better to just stick to things she could use.

I
spent the morning catching up on my bookkeeping and I had Kaili clean up the back room. By lunchtime the entire shop gleamed and I could actually see the wood on the top of my desk.

“I don’t think this place has looked this good since the fire,” I said.

“Fire?”

As we walked to Café des Amis for lunch, I told her the story of how a disgruntled customer had set fire to my shop.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s crazy. My mom says Maui’s boring—nothing ever happens. So even though Auntie Lani and Uncle Doug live here my mom wanted to live in Honolulu.”

“It’s true we don’t have big city life, but believe me, plenty of stuff happens.”

***

On the way back from lunch I steered Kaili into the Gadda da Vida.

“Farrah, I’d like you to meet Kaili, Sifu Doug’s niece. She’s been helping me out in the shop this week.”

Farrah came around from behind the counter and enveloped Kaili in a hug. “That’s
so far out. Your uncle’s such a righteous dude. And, well, this girl here’s my b/b/f/f. That stands for bestest best friend forever. So, I guess that makes you a friend of my bestest best friend forever. How would that go? Like f/o/m/b/b/f/f?”

Kaili glanced
over at me and smiled. A couple of days earlier she probably would’ve thought Farrah was messing with her, but now she knew better.

“
That’s great,” said Kaili. Her tone was a tad condescending, but I figured she was just practicing her “fake it ‘til you make it” and I didn’t take offense. Farrah’s gushing was pretty over-the-top.

“Yeah,” I said. “W
hy don’t you go in the back and get us each a Popsicle? If there’s a pineapple one, I dibs it.”

“No problem,”
Kaili said. “I don’t like pineapple.”

Once Kaili was out of earshot, Farrah said, “What kind of
wahine
doesn’t like pineapple?”

“The kind that wishes she
was back home in Los Angeles,” I said. I quietly explained how Sifu Doug had sort of foisted Kaili off on me.

That
afternoon I told Kaili we’d be knocking off early. “I’ve got to pack for my trip.”

“Do you think my mom w
ould let me get a tattoo?” Kaili said. “Most girls my age have at least one tattoo.”

“Why don’t you save up your money
to get one in an inconspicuous place?” I said. “It’s probably best to start small since this is a ‘for life’ commitment.” I’d dealt with at least a couple of brides with hideous tattoos in prominent places, but now wasn’t the time for horror stories. Besides, it might give her ideas.

“
How about a little dolphin this big? I could put it right here.” She held her thumb and finger a few inches apart and tapped her shoulder.

“Or maybe
on your upper thigh.”

“Yeah
, I guess that’d be okay,” she said. “I want it where people will see it when I’m in my bikini.”

“Tell you what
,” I said. “I’d like to pay you for working with me this week.”

“
Oh, thanks. But Uncle Doug already told me I’d be working for free,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

“No, I want to. You were a big help with cleaning this place up and getting
my files in order. You can use the money to start your tattoo fund.”

I pulled out my checkbook and wrote her a check for twenty hours of work
at minimum wage. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it’d give her a nudge toward saving up for something she wanted.

“
But let’s agree on three things,” I said. “First, you’ll get your mom’s permission; second, it will be small, two inches or less; and three, you’ll put it where no one will see it when you’re wearing school clothes.”

She s
tuck out her hand. “You got it.
Mahalo
!”

We shook
and I handed her the check.

“
But what if my mom won’t let me?” she said.

“Never hurts to ask.”

At two o’clock Doug’s wife, Lani, came to get Kaili. I thanked her for the pretty sun-catcher and she hugged me.

“You have no idea how much
we appreciate what you’ve done for our
‘ohana
,” she whispered.

After t
hey left I leaned back in my chair feeling quite pleased with myself. Maybe I should consider having a kid. From the looks of things, I had the ‘mom thing’ pretty much figured out.

CHAPTER 11

Since Hatch and I were only going to be gone for the weekend I packed light. A couple pairs of cropped pants, two shirts, the requisite undies, and a filmy short sky-blue nightie I thought looked sexier than nothing at all. Like everyone else I pretty much wear
rubba slippas
no matter what the occasion, so there was no need for extra shoes. I threw in a tiny bottle of shampoo I’d gotten at a hotel somewhere and my toothbrush and toothpaste. It all fit in my trusty black roll-aboard bag with the gimpy wheel.

I’d inherited a bunch of money right after my birthday last year
but I hadn’t kept it long. I paid off my house and bought a new car but the rest went into trust funds for my family members. I guess I could’ve kept it for myself and gone all “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,” but having glimpsed the work required to maintain that level of pretention I realized I wasn’t up to the task. I gave away the money and went back to being me. The gimpy-wheel suitcase had been a graduation present from Auntie Mana. She was gone now, so even if I’d kept every dime of my jaw-dropping windfall there was no way I would’ve parted with my bag.

I ate dinner with Steve and headed down to Hatch’s place. He wouldn’t be home
from work until eight-thirty the next morning, but I have a key to his cottage. Wahine likes the company and I like being there to greet Hatch when he gets home. And besides, he’s only five minutes from the airport.

I read for a while and went to bed early. When Hatch isn’t around I
usually get up at sunrise and walk the beach park before the weekend crowds show up. The first throng is usually surfers and kite-boarders. They leave and the joggers show up, along with groups of old people doing their open air
tai chi
. When the fitness freaks head home for their kale and brewer’s yeast smoothies, local families begin arriving in their banged-up minivans and pick-up trucks. From that point on the noise level rises as toddlers and elderly
tutus
are herded to the covered picnic tables. By lunchtime the parking lot is full and the grassy areas are a checkerboard of picnic blankets interspersed with guys throwing Frisbees and clutches of gossiping women camped out in lawn chairs. The air becomes scented with hibachi smoke and, although it’s not legal to drink in Hawaii public parks, the smoke is often enhanced with a familiar yeasty tang.

***

Hatch got home at about eight-thirty on Saturday morning. He banged through the door, sending Wahine into a frenzy of barking, leaping and licking.

“This dog is like a one-
dude ticker tape parade,” Hatch said. “It doesn’t matter if I’ve been gone ten days or ten minutes, when I come through the door it’s always cause for celebration.”

“
A one-
dude
parade?” I said. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen prey to Farrah’s bad habit.”

“Nah, I know
Wahine’s a ‘she’,” he said. “It’s just that a dude’s a dude, you know? I mean, like you’re a dude, even though I’m a hundred percent sure you’ve got the girl goods.”