“Well, the mother didn’t do that. She left him at Farrah’s.”
“Has Farrah called the cops?”
“No. She’s staying up here with me and Steve while she figures out what to do.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” he said. “She’s got to report an abandoned baby. If she doesn’t, she’s breaking all kinds of laws—child endangerment, custodial interference, you name it.”
“Look, Hatch, the child isn’t in danger. And Farrah isn’t interfering with anybody’s custodial rights. The mother left a note saying she wanted Farrah to have him.”
“Was the note signed?”
“No, anonymous.”
“Then how does Farrah know the mother even wrote the note? Maybe somebody snatched the kid and ditched it at the store to elude the police. She’s got to report it.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Pali, this isn’t the former cop in me talking. I’m speaking as a friend. You’ve got to get Farrah to report this. She can’t play ‘finders keepers’ with a kid. She’ll end up in jail.”
I changed the subject and asked him what I should wear to the firefighter dinner on Saturday night.
“Wear a dress,” he said.
“But I only have the one dress. And it’s starting to look a little shabby.”
“So? Buy another one.”
I wanted to say I’d rather bury a chopstick in my inner ear than go shopping, but I kept quiet.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’m off tomorrow. Why don’t I take you to Queen Ka’ahumanu Center and we’ll find you a kick-ass dress? My treat.”
I agreed to go.
“Is Farrah handy?” he said. “I’d like to talk to her before we hang up.”
“She’s trying to put a baby crib together. From the sounds of things, it isn’t a good time to interrupt.”
“Tell her I’ll help her with it tomorrow,” he said. “Right now she needs to call the Maui Sheriff’s Department.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“Crib, huh? Someday we may need a crib, you know.”
The guy was nothing if not full of surprises.
***
On Friday morning my cell phone rang as I was driving to the Palace of Pain. I hoped it was Charles saying he’d thought it over and decided to go ahead and sign the pre-nup. As annoying as Eleanor could be, maybe the love of a good man would soften her up a little.
“Pali, it’s Valentine Fabares.”
“Hi Valentine, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”
“Yes, well, probate has been scheduled for early Monday morning. Due to the circumstances, I asked for the earliest possible spot on the docket.”
“What circumstances?”
“You know, a possible petition contesting the will. If we can get this probate underway, I think the disqualified heirs will encounter a somewhat steeper slope.”
“Maybe Peggy and Joanie have a point. Maybe the other children should have—”
She cut me off. “Look Pali. I knew your father. I have every confidence in the veracity of both the legality of his will and the spirit behind it. Trust me, this is what he wanted. Have you ever heard of the Golden Rule?”
“Of course, ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’.”
“That’s the classic version, yes. But your father practiced a more modern version of the rule. Phil always said, ‘He who has the gold, rules’. Do you see my point? It’s your father’s money. You and Sunny are the only people he wanted to give it to. There’s no way a judge could see it differently.”
“But it seems—”
“See you on Monday. We’re first up so I’d appreciate it if you could plan to be over here on Sunday night. Can you do that?”
“Sure.”
“Great,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the courthouse at eight-thirty Monday morning. Aloha.” The line went dead and I assumed she’d hung up.
Hatch showed up at my shop later that morning. Since the Lindberg wedding was on hold, I’d spent the last hour doing a little office housekeeping and answering emails. I hadn’t slept well the night before but it wasn’t due to the baby crying. I’d tossed and turned wondering how I was going to tell my friends, and especially Hatch, about my upgraded financial status.
“Ready to go rock the Kasbah?” he said. “I’m thinking you should get something glittery. And tight.”
I was glad I’d asked him to pick me up at my shop rather than at home. I wanted to keep Hatch away from Farrah because, big surprise, she hadn’t called the police. She had managed to get the crib assembled, though.
As if reading my mind he said, “What did the police say when Farrah called?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. I left the house really early. She wasn’t up yet.”
“But she called, right?”
“As far as I know.” I really wanted to change the subject. “I’m thinking maybe a blue dress. I like blue.”
“To go with your eyes?”
“My eyes are hazel.”
“Blue, hazel, whatever,” he said. “How come women call things fifty different colors and guys get along with five? Get whatever color you want as long as it’s got a really short skirt.” He winked at me as if he knew a comment like that would garner some major stink eye and I didn’t let him down.
We went from store to store to store. My feet hurt and my boredom meter had clicked into the red zone. I’d never known a guy outside of Steve’s social milieu who had such shopping stamina. I was about to throw up my hands and offer to attend the dinner naked when I spied a slinky blue number with a soft draped neckline and a slit up the leg that left almost nothing to the imagination.
“But it’s long,” said Hatch.
“Give me a minute,” I said heading to the dressing room. “I’ll come out and if you hate it, I’ll put it back. No argument.”
I slipped on the cool shimmery dress and turned to look at myself in the mirror. The black rubba slippas on my feet didn’t do it justice, but the color and drape of the dress hugging my body was amazing.
“Ta-dah,” I said as I stepped out into the main area of the store.
Hatch stared. I twirled around to give him the full vision of the above-the-knee slit.
“Wow. I never thought long could be more sexy than short,” he said.
“Common mistake,” I said. “I have to explain it to brides all the time.”
Hatch bought me the dress. On the way back to Pa’ia I couldn’t believe how excited I felt about going to the fireman dinner at the Grand Wailea in my fancy new dress. Maybe my being Miss Richie Rich would turn out to be fun after all.
***
When I went into my shop the message light was blinking. I called the voicemail number.
“Pali, this is Charles Lindberg. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it. I can’t spend the rest of my life with someone who’s constantly lording her money over me. I told Eleanor my decision and now I’m leaving for home. If I owe you anything for your trouble, give me a call.” He left a number with a mainland area code.
I watched in my mind’s eye as my bubble of joy about becoming a rich heiress floated up, up, and away before bursting with a tiny pop.
CHAPTER 14
That night I modeled my new dress for Steve and Farrah. Steve gave me a thumbs-up and Farrah—whose entire wardrobe consists of mu’u mu’us and caftans—declared the style and color divine. When I told her I planned to wear my new pearl amulet with it she beamed.
“But honey, since we’re talking accessories,” Steve said. “We’ve got to do something about those shoes.”
I looked down at my ‘good’ sandals. They were black leather with inch-and-a-half rundown heels. “No good?”
“Are you planning to run a half-marathon between the salad and soup courses? Because those things look positively athletic.”
“I’m not into ‘do me’ shoes, Steve.”
“I get that, but c’mon. All you need is to take it up
a notch. Maybe a lighter color, like bone or ivory, with a little bit higher heel. Let me take you shoe shopping tomorrow.”
I groaned. “I’m not sure I can survive the mall two days in a row.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” he said. “Aren’t you always telling bridesmaids it’s their duty to suffer for their friend’s big day? Haven’t you convinced countless girls to wear the most god-awful get-ups in the name of love and friendship?”
I nodded. It was Hatch’s first firefighter banquet. A little suffering was probably in order.
***
I woke up on Saturday feeling conflicted. I looked forward to my date with Hatch, but not on any level was I looking forward to three hours of tromping through the mall with Steve.
“Maybe I could borrow some shoes,” I said to him over breakfast. “You’ve got a few drag queen friends. Maybe they’d loan me something.”
“Sure, if you wear a size fifteen,” he said. “Suck it up, honey, we’re going sole searching. I promise I’ll bless the first decent pair you find.”
It sounded like a concession, but I knew Steve well enough to know his notion of ‘decent’ and mine were worlds apart.
Before we left for the mall I begged Farrah one more time to call the authorities and report the baby. I still hadn’t heard from Sifu Doug’s brother, James, and I wondered if he’d decided he didn’t want to get involved.
“Hatch is coming here to pick me up tonight,” I said. “He’s going to grill you with his ‘truth stare’ and you’re going to go down in flames.”
“Chill,” she said. “I’ve got a plan. I just need a little more time.” She looked down at the baby asleep in her arms. When she looked up, her face was tight with resolve. “I can’t let them take him. I just can’t.”
“Then why haven’t you named him?” I said. “I’m not exactly buying that Libra in retrograde thing.”
Farrah’s expression relaxed. “I haven’t named him because I don’t have my computer hooked up yet.”
“You need a computer to name this baby? Don’t even tell me you’re planning on calling him ‘Google’ or ‘Yahoo’ or whatever. That’d be criminal.” I’m sure I sounded way more cranky than it called for, but since I’d been saddled with a ludicrous name I felt I had the right to weigh in.
“No,” said Farrah. “I’m not searching for a geek name. I need my computer to look up his Hawaiian name. In English his name would be ‘Moses’ but I don’t want to call him that. I need to find out the Hawaiian spelling.”
“Hang on. I’ve got a Hawaiian dictionary around here somewhere.” I rummaged through my bookshelf and came up with a yellowed copy of “The Pocket Hawaiian Dictionary,” by Pukui, Elbert and Mo’okini. The blurb on the cover promised Hawaiian spellings for popular names. I flipped to the name section and found the ‘M’s.’
“It’s Moke,” I said. “The Hawaiian version of Moses is Moke.”
“That’s so perfect,” said Farrah. She looked down at the baby’s sleeping face and whispered, “Aloha, little Moke. E komo mai to your new life. Your new mama loves you with her whole heart.”
It would’ve brought a tear to my eye but I’d already begun steeling myself to go shoe shopping.
***
As Steve pulled into a parking spot at the mall my cell began playing Mendelssohn’s wedding march. That ring meant someone was calling on the ‘Let’s Get Maui’d’ line. I checked the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number but it was an ‘808’ area code which meant Hawaii.
“Aloha, this is Pali Moon,” I said. I used to answer, Pali Moon, Let’s Get Maui’d, but it was often misinterpreted.
“Hello, Pali. It’s Joanie Bush, Phil Wilkerson’s former wife. Do you remember me?”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I got your number off the Internet. So it seems you’re a wedding planner?”
“I am.” I could hardly imagine the woman who’d been so nasty at the reading of my father’s will would want me to coordinate a wedding for her, but maybe she’d called to apologize.
“That’s pretty funny,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, your dad should’ve kept you on retainer. I mean, think of the money he would’ve saved.”
Had she called simply to heckle me?
“What can I do for you, Joanie?” I shot an apologetic look at Steve, who was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“In this situation, it’s more what I’m doing for you.”
“Have you talked Peggy out of contesting the will?”
“Peggy’s not one to be talked out of anything, I’m afraid.”
“Joanie, I’m kind of busy right now. Can I call you back?”
“No can do. I’m heading off to the mainland today. Even though Phil totally screwed my kids out of what was rightfully theirs, I feel bad for you. I have some information I’m sure you’ll want to know.”
Steve tapped the face of his watch.
“I’m sorry, Joanie,” I said. “But I’m in kind of hurry.”
“Look,” said Joanie. “I don’t know what you’ve been told about your mother’s death, but I’ll bet it’s a lie.”
“I haven’t been told much of anything.” I felt my cheeks start to feel hot.
“Well, I’m willing to tell you the truth. Unless, of course, you don’t care.”
“I care very much.”
By now Steve had plopped his head back on the head rest and closed his eyes. I felt trapped between hearing what Joanie had to say and continuing to rudely ignore Steve.
“I’m afraid I really can’t talk right now,” I said.
“That’s fine with me,” said Joanie. “Because I’m only willing to tell you about this face-to-face. I’ve got a flight to Honolulu in half-an-hour. Then I’ve got a short layover before I leave for the mainland at four. If you’re interested in hearing what happened to your mother, meet me at the Honolulu airport.”
“I’m not sure if I can…” I let it trail off.
“It’s up to you. But right now I’m feeling generous. Once I get back home, who knows?”
“Okay, I’ll come. I’ll try to get the next flight over.”
“I’ll wait near the Hawaiian Airlines ticket counter. If you don’t get there before I have to leave I’m not willing to wait.”
We signed off and I turned to Steve.
“Let me guess,” he said. “No shoes, Sherlock?”
“Looks like it.”
“But what about the fireman dinner tonight? Your new dress? What about Hatch?”
“I’m only going to Honolulu. I’ll get a turnaround flight and be back in plenty of time for the banquet.”
“Wearing butt-ugly shoes,” said Steve. “What’s in Honolulu?”
“One of my dad’s ex-wives is willing to tell me how my mom died. But she’ll only talk to me in person so I have to meet her at the airport. If I can get on the next flight, I can hear her out and be back in a couple of hours.”
“This is nuts, Pali. It’s already almost one o’clock.”
“I know. But I can make it work.”
“And what was that about someone contesting a will?”
“Drive me to the airport and I’ll tell you.”
I gave him the same TV Guide version of the reading of my father’s will that I’d given Hatch and Farrah. As far as my inheritance, I said my dad had left me a little money but I’d have to wait until after probate before I’d see any of it.
***
“Peep toe,” Steve said as we turned onto the road that circles Kahului Airport.
“What’d you say?”
“Peep toe. That’s the kind of shoes I had in mind to go with your new dress.”
Steve dropped me off and I bought a ticket for the two-thirty flight with a return flight at four. It’d be tight, since it took a little over a half-hour to get from Kahului to Honolulu, but I knew I could do it.
I went through security and called Hatch. He wasn’t happy
with my plans.
“You want me to pick you up at the airport at four-forty-five? It’ll take half-an-hour to drive back to your place and then almost another hour to get down to Wailea and get parked and everything. I don’t want to be late.”
“Okay, how about this: I won’t go home after you pick me up. If you’ll go up to my house right now and pick up my dress and shoes I can change in the airport bathroom. Then we’ll have plenty of time to get down to Wailea.”
His silence spoke volumes—no, an entire library—of irritation. “Pali, I know how important knowing what happened to your mom is to you. But this banquet is really important to me, too.”
“Have a little faith. I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER 15
Joanie Bush looked even more painted and blousy than she had Wednesday at the attorney’s office. She’d teased her hair into a towering inferno of spiky blond clumps and her talon-like nails had been re-lacquered with black nail polish with a diagonal silver racing stripe on each one. Her clingy black and white traveler knit outfit made her look downright upholstered.
She was sitting in a row of chairs by the windows. As I approached, she got up and glanced around the terminal as if checking for someone tailing her.
“Let’s not talk here,” she hissed. “Is there a coffee shop or somewhere where we can be alone?”
“Why don’t we go outside by the lei stands? They have benches out there.”
“Can I smoke?”
“I don’t know. I suppose you can until they yell at you.”
We went outside and walked through the parking lot to the lei stand area. We found an empty bench and as soon as we sat down Joanie rummaged through her enormous satchel and brought out a long brown cigarette.
“Want one?” she said.
I shook my head. “Never got into that.”
“Well, you might consider starting after you hear what I have to say.”
“Joanie, I appreciate you taking time to meet me like this, but I can do without the drama.”
“Sweetie, Phil was all about drama. He lived his entire life playing to an audience.”
“Tell me about my mom.”
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