He shot me a puzzled look. “Uh, no. But we keep our bunker gear ready to go. I can be ready to roll in less than a minute.”
“Cool. So, like have you ever touched a dead body?”
“A few.”
“What’d it feel like?”
Hatch’s eyes drifted to the left as if contemplating his answer. “Sad. Mostly, it felt sad.”
She shrugged. “But some people are better off dead, don’t you think? Then it wouldn’t be sad at all.”
“Enough about me,” he said. “What’s your story?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You ever stab anybody with that hair style?”
“Okay, you two,” I broke in. “Let’s eat.”
We ate in record time. Hatch and Kaili kept furtively eying each other like feral tomcats in adjoining cages at the pound. I was relieved when Hatch checked his watch and said he had to get going.
I walked him out. “You want me to come down to your place tonight?” I said.
“If you’re still alive.” He nodded toward the closed door.
“She’s not that bad. She’s had a rough go of it the past few months. Her mom moved them from Los Angeles to Honolulu and Kaili’s been having a hard time adjusting.”
“Oh yeah? I can’t imagine why. The kid looks like ‘Nightmare on Elm Street.’ And she’s got an attitude to match.”
“I know. I’m working on it.”
We made plans to get together later and I gave him a quick kiss “good-bye.”
***
I went back in the shop and called my bride-to-be Lili Kapahu. I told her I was planning to go to Kona that weekend and I’d be willing to look into what happened to her birth certificate.
“I want to check it out,” I said. “Because if we can’t get a certified copy of your birth record you’ll have to wait until you’re eighteen to get married.” Technically, her parents should be doing the checking, but I had a hunch that wouldn’t happen.
“You’d do that for me?” she said. “You’re so nice.”
That was the second time that morning I’d been called “nice” by a teen-aged girl. I felt positively ancient.
“Yeah, well, thanks. I’m sure the mix-up was just a clerical error. I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Can I come with you?” she said.
Uh-oh, what should I say? I’d planned on asking Hatch to go with me. Since he’d returned from Montana last summer he’d been kind of antsy with island fever—the local version of cabin fever. I thought maybe getting away to a neighbor island might give him a lift. The Big Island of Hawaii is big—4,000 square miles—with acres of grassy pastures along with a few soaring mountains. I thought the scenery might remind him of western Montana and he’d realize he didn’t have to go all the way to the mainland for a change of scenery.
“Uh, I suppose you could come along if you like. But I’ll need to talk to your parents. They may not be keen on the idea of you going off-island with someone they’ve never met.”
She blew out a breath. “Forget it. My mom’ll freak out.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t I go alone this time and see what I can find? Even if I’m successful, you or your parents will have to sign for your birth certificate since I’m not related to you. And chances are that will require a trip to the State Vital Records Office in Honolulu.”
“Okay,” she said. “But call me when you find something.”
I said I would.
I was about to hang up when she said. “You know, I’m counting on you, Pali.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“No, I mean it. I’m counting on you because David and me are holding off. You know, until we’re married. But if we can’t get married this month like we planned, I probably won’t be able to keep my promise to my dad.”
“What’d you promise your dad?”
“Me and my dad signed one of those purity agreements, you know? I swore I wouldn’t ‘do it’ until after I got married. My dad gave me a purity ring and everything. It’s a big deal to him.”
I’d heard about purity rituals between fathers and daughters, and I was mildly curious of how the actual ceremony went, but I let it go. I had a feeling purity parties weren’t a market vertical “Let’s Get Maui’d” would be offering anytime soon.
“Like I said. I’ll do my best.”
I hung up with a better understanding of why time was of the essence. There was no way I wanted to get in the way of raging teenage hormones.
CHAPTER 7
Although it’d been my bright idea to use some of my weekend on the Big Island to track down Lili’s birth records, I started feeling uneasy about it. It was the same weird feeling I used to get when I’d ask Auntie Mana a question about my late mother and she’d deflect it. What if Lili’s birth history was a painful situation? They say you can’t unring a bell. How would I feel if, in my zeal to help these kids, I unearthed something that would’ve been better left buried?
Since I’d fibbed to Sifu Doug and told him I had to go to Lahaina that afternoon I stuck with the ruse and drove Kaili down there with me. We hung out at Banyan Tree Park for about an hour and I bought us waffle cones at Lappert’s on the corner. The treats cost almost as much as if I’d bought dinner, but it was nice to just kick back and enjoy some empty calories for a change.
At five-fifteen I dropped her off at Sifu Doug’s house in Pukalani and headed back down to the Gadda.
“It’s just me,” I said, coming through the back door.
“What you mean just you?” Farrah trotted over and crushed me in a tight hug. “Don’t you know how much I’ve missed you?”
Ono peeked around a tower of boxes at the end of the cereal aisle. “Hey Pali, how’s it hangin’?”
It felt weird not to have Farrah all to myself. I was used to sharing her with customers, and I often left or pitched in to help out when she got busy. But I felt a stab of loss when I realized from now on Ono would always be there. Gone were the days of girl talk and Farrah’s undivided attention.
“I’m good. How’s it hangin’ with you?”
“Good,” he said. There was an awkward beat of silence and he went on. “But nobody warned me my wife was such a slave driver. I haven’t had a break all day. Tell you what, ladies. I’m going across the street and sit down and order me some fries and ketchup. Gonna stay for a full twenty minute break—maybe even half an hour. You want me to bring you back somethin’?”
We declined and he left.
“You see why I love that dude?” Farrah said. “It’s like we’re total soul mates. Like we’ve been together in, like, a dozen past lives. Antony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, Bonnie and Clyde—”
“You know things didn’t turn out so great for any of those couples,” I said.
“Yeah, yeah. But you dig what I’m sayin’.”
“Before somebody comes in, tell me about your trip.”
“Oh, there was so much groovy stuff I don’t know where to start. Hey, I’ve got it. Why don’t you and Hatch come down here for dinner tomorrow? I could show you the pictures. Or will he be working?”
I ran Hatch’s work schedule through my mind. He’d been on twenty-four hour duty Tuesday so that meant he’d be off Wednesday and Thursday. “Yeah, he’s off tomorrow. But your apartment’s kind of small for four people. Why don’t you and Ono come up to my house?”
“You sure?” she said.
“Absolutely.”
“Do you think you might be able to get Steve to cook?” she said. It was an old joke. I have a few domestic talents, but cooking isn’t one of them.
“Tomorrow is Thursday, so Steve will probably go out. He doesn’t like to miss dollar-taco night at the Ball and Chain.”
“Okay, see if you can dig this. How ‘bout you get us a couple bottles of decent wine and we’ll bring the eats? You always pick out really good wine.”
“Sounds great,” I said. “See you at seven?”
/> “Yeah. I’ll ask Beatrice to stay until closing,” she said. “Seems she really dug working here while I was gone. She got kinda bummed when I told her from now on we’d go back to the way things were. You know, her just working at lunchtime.”
I left and drove down to Sprecklesville to see Hatch. Unlike Lili’s parents, Hatch doesn’t own his digs in Sprecklesville. He rents from a rich Australian guy. Hatch gets a killer discount on his little cottage in return for watching over the owner’s sprawling oceanside estate. Day-to-day it’s not much of a job, but annually he has to oversee the massive effort it takes to get the place ready for the week or two the guy spends there every year.
I parked outside the fence and walked in through a small entry gate. I was thirty feet from Hatch’s porch when a brown cyclone came hurtling through a two-foot high hole in the screen door.
“Heen, it’s me,” I said. I squatted down to allow Hatch’s dog, “Wahine” to give me a thorough licking. She’s a small dog, one of six pups from Sir Lipton’s one and only litter from a couple of years ago. She leapt up and promptly got to work.
“Heen, get down,” Hatch ordered.
The licking continued.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I think she’s getting a few spots I may have missed in the shower.”
“Wahine, you want to go to the room?” Hatch said in a menacing voice.
At the word “room” Wahine jumped down and froze. Obviously, exile was something she didn’t want any part of. She looked up at me with worried brown eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I won’t let him do it.”
I asked Hatch if he could come to dinner tomorrow.
“Is the zombie going to be there?”
“You mean, Kaili? No. It’ll be you, me, Farrah and Ono. It’s at my house, but Farrah’s bringing the food.”
“Whew, dodged a bullet there,” he said.
“I hope you’re referring to Kaili not joining us and not something else.”
“Yeah, for sure.” He pulled me in close and kissed the top of my head. “You’re an amazing woman, Pali. You run your own business and you gave up a huge inheritance to make your brothers and sisters financially secure. Not to mention you could kick my butt without breaking a sweat. But let’s face it, for all the things you can do, you can’t do Iron Chef.”
“Hey, I know it. It’d be a stretch for me to even do ‘aluminum foil chef’,” I said. “That’s why I’m glad you’re learning to cook at the fire house.”
“Well, don’t get too excited. So far, my repertoire only includes the smoke eaters’ holy trinity: spaghetti, chili and mac and cheese.”
“That’s three more dishes than I can whip up,” I said.
“Speaking of food,” Hatch said. “I’m hungry. How about I pull out some cheese and crackers and you get us a bottle wine from my stash? Pick something that goes with brie.”
Okay, the verdict was in. Nobody was willing to eat my cooking, but I was gaining something of a reputation as a sommelier. Fine with me. After all, fruit’s always been my favorite food group.
CHAPTER 8
When Kaili showed up the next morning she’d toned down the scary a few notches. She still had green hair, but she’d combed it straight back into a chubby ponytail at the nape of her neck. And she wore a wide black stretchy headband to keep the strays at bay. She’d lightened up on the Goth make-up a bit, too. Her face was still Casper-the-Ghost white, but the thick black eyeliner had been replaced by what modern brides refer to as “smoky eye,” and I could make out a thin sheen of gloss on her lips instead of the black tar-like substance she’d coated them with the day before.
“Hi,” she said in a sprightly voice. “What do you think?” She twirled around like a bride showing off a six-foot lace train.
“You look good.” I refused to say, “great” because she still had quite a ways to go.
“Aunt Lani gave me some lip gloss.” She smacked her lips and made a “mmm-wah”’ sound.
“Very good. The gloss makes your teeth look really white.” I was used to “finding the good” when dealing with brides who were, shall we say, “appearance-challenged.” An annoying spray of acne across the cheeks, a too-wide waistline due to a failed diet, or a so-called “lazy eye” that wouldn’t properly line up in the socket were artfully ignored as I commented on a girl’s lovely smile, glossy hair, or perfect manicure.
“What’ll we be doing today?” Kaili said.
“I’ve got a few things to clear up here in the shop and then we’re off to work with vendors. I think you’ll like it.”
“Sounds great,” she said. Even her attitude seemed to have lightened up.
We puttered around the shop until noon. I had her inventory a small box of sample bridesmaid gifts that had come in, and then the two of us tackled a more or less deep cleaning of the front of the shop—floors, wall smudges, and Windexing the glass cases inside and out.
At lunchtime I ran next door to get quick sandwiches at the Gadda. We ate quickly and then went out to my car to make our rounds to the vendors. At each stop, the vendors hugged me and chatted about personal stuff—inquiring after my brother, Steve, Farrah, and Hatch before ever mentioning a word about business. In about an hour and a half we’d visited a print shop, an alterations lady and two florists.
As Kaili got back in the car she said, “Whew. It sure takes time to get anything done around here. In LA we could’ve been in and out of those places like that.” She snapped her fingers. “But everybody here is like, ‘Oh, so happy to see you. Give me a hug. How’s your family? Sit down and tell me your life story.’ It’s a pretty slow way to do business.”
“That’s why I’m taking you around like this. I want you to see how things work over here. I’ve seen most of these people within the past couple of weeks, but still they take time to be friendly. They aren’t just focused on whether I bring them any business; they care about me. That’s one of the important things you need to learn if you want to blend in.”
“So, you’re saying if I want to get along at school I’ve got to act like you do? You know, suck up and pretend to care about all this stupid stuff? Like you really wanted to know if that printer guy’s kid got the job he was going for, or the seamstress lady’s granddaughter won that soccer game?”
“Close, but no bull‘s-eye,” I said. “I don’t pretend to care. In Hawaii, people actually do care.”
“But what if I don’t?”
“There’s an old saying, ‘Fake it ‘til you make it.’ This is the time to act as if the kids at your school are important to you. As if you’re interested in their lives and what they’re feeling. Before you know it, you will be.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “They’ll probably see right through it and call me a phony. Or, more likely, a phony bitch.”
Our last stop of the day was in Kula, further up the mountain beyond Doug’s house in Pukalani.
“Where are we going?” Kaili said.
“To my cake maker’s place. She’s old-school Hawaiian. Nothing I can say will make the point any better than you meeting Keahou.”
As I’d imagined, even though I’d failed to call ahead and alert Keahou we were coming, she greeted us at the door like we were long lost relatives.
“Oh my sweet ku’uipo!” Keahou said. “So good to see my favorite girl! Whatcha been doin’?”
“I brought a friend up to see you, Keahou,” I said. “This is Kaili. She’s Sifu Doug’s niece from Honolulu. She’s helping me out this week.”
Keahou stepped forward and pulled Kaili into a hug. She tightly wrapped her to her bountiful breast and slightly swayed as she murmured Hawaiian words even I couldn’t understand.
“That means, I’m so happy to meet you and welcome you to my home,” she said. “You are ‘ohana to our sifu. He must be so proud of you.”
Kaili shot me a look as if questioning Keahou’s sincerity.
“Oh, he is, Auntie,” I said. “Very proud.”
“W
hat a lani wahine. So very pretty. Don’t you think so, Pali?”
I nodded. Seems the green hair and chalk-white face hadn’t dampened Keahou’s assessment of Kaili’s beauty. Or maybe she, too, was used to “finding the good.”
We chatted and I explained to Keahou how Kaili was a recent transplant from the mainland and she’d been having some trouble adjusting.
“Ah, Honolulu. It’s not easy there. Did Pali tell you stories about when she go over there? Lots of people there. Most are nice; some not so nice.”
“It’s not so much the big city, Keahou,” I said, before I realized Kaili could probably speak for herself. “It’s the difference between Hawaiian ways and mainland ways.”
“Ah. Well, not so much different. In both places, good is good. Here’s what you need to know: ‘ohana first. And, in Hawaii, everybody ‘ohana!”
She invited us in for cake and guava juice and we stayed another ten minutes. I checked the clock on the wall and said, unfortunately, we had to leave.
“I told Sifu Doug I’d have her back home by five,” I said.
“Okay. I let you go quick this time. But next time, you stay longer. Oh, before you go, I got some stuff for you to take.”
Keahou loaded us up with a coffee cake, a jelly roll, a coconut cream, or haupia, pie with a tall pile of meringue, and six cupcakes.
“How many folks you got in your ‘ohana?” Keahou said to Kaili.
Kaili looked puzzled.
“There are five people at Doug’s now,” I said. “Kaili and her two keiki cousins, and her Uncle Doug and Auntie Lani.”
“Okay. Then you need two more cupcakes.” She piled them on. “That makes eight. Five for Doug’s ‘ohana and one each for you, Steve, and Hatch.”
We juggled the treats out to my Mini Cooper and I secured everything on the small ledge in the hatchback.
“Who was that lady again?” said Kaili.
“That was Keahou, my wedding cake maker.”
“But she never talked about wedding cakes,” said Kaili.
“Do you think I’d ever take my business elsewhere?” I said.
“Probably not.” Then she nodded as if she’d just solved the riddle of the Sphinx.
I'm Kona Love You Forever (Islands of Aloha Mystery Series Book 6) Page 4