“I know that place. I live pretty close. Do you surf?” he asked.
“I want to learn,” Freddie interrupted. “We were learning and then …” He stopped, looking at Rosie.
“Our neighbors joined the Army,” she finished for him.
“I can teach you.” Kam rubbed Freddie’s head. Freddie had talked Aunt Etta into letting him cut his hair close to his head, like a soldier, and he was very proud of his hairstyle.
“When?” Freddie asked. “Except I don’t have a surfboard.”
“I have one. Hmm, I can come by,” he looked at Rosie, “not sure when, but soon.” He shrugged. “I need to help out the aunties part of most days, but if it’s all right with you …”
Rosie nodded. “Should be around. With no school …”
“I heard it won’t be long before it starts. But if you stay where you’re living now, we should be assigned the same school. What brings you down here?”
“We’re detectives and we are investigating Mr. Smith,” Freddie said.
Rosie felt her face heat up. That must sound so childish to Kam.
“He has some of our stuff and we want it back,” Freddie continued as Rosie gave him a warning look.
“You mean that guy in the office across the street?” Kam asked. “Strange things going on over there. And he was there when they took all the radios from your father’s shop.”
“He was? I guess it could be because he is the one supposedly taking care of our properties,” Rosie said, but she didn’t entirely believe that he had her parents’ or anyone’s but his own best interests in mind. Not when she’d witnessed him selling a box of jewelry.
“What do you mean about strange things going on at his office?” Rosie asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve seen trucks pull up and unload stuff, house stuff. What does someone who sells houses need with lamps and chairs and dishes? Or radios for that matter. And that’s his business, or it was before the war. I think now he does stuff for the government, with enemy aliens.” Kam stopped short. “At least that’s what I heard my auntie say.”
“Today, we saw him take a box to a jewelry store and when he came out,” Rosie paused, “he didn’t have it any longer but he was putting something, money I think, in his pocket. Like he’s selling things. I don’t think that is what my parents had in mind when they asked him to take care of their property.” What valuables of theirs were worth selling? Their pineapple lamp wasn’t worth anything. But her mother’s jewelry and the quilts were also gone. Everything was gone! In storage, Mr. Smith said. He could be telling the truth, but she didn’t trust him. He had sold their home to Malia! Why wouldn’t he sell more of their things?
“I can play the ukulele,” Freddie said, looking at the instrument Kam had left in the alleyway.
“You’re a regular Hawaiian beach boy,” Kam said.
“No, I want to be a soldier,” said Freddie seriously.
“So Rosie,” Kam poked her in the arm, pulling her out of her thoughts, “okay if I come by sometime?”
“Sure, I guess so,” she said with a shrug. “See you then.”
“Bring your surfboard,” Freddie called to Kam as Rosie turned Freddie toward home.
Chapter 27
Freddie refused to go spy on Mr. Smith during the next week, so Rosie couldn’t, either. Rosie hoped that he wasn’t selling something that belonged to them when she wasn’t watching. She’d convinced herself that it was the quilts that he would have the best chance of selling and making money. Two days into 1942 and she had nothing to write in her journal.
Rosie made it a point to work every day on the quilt square Kealani had given her. She kept reminding herself that Kealani had said her parents would return when she finished it if there was enough aloha spirit sewn into the design. Rosie tried to think only positive thoughts when she was quilting.
Rosie was concentrating on making her stitches even tinier when Freddie slammed into the house.
“I don’t have anything to do.” Freddie threw himself on the couch and it gave out a scary groan like it might collapse.
“Where are all your little soldier friends?” Rosie asked, wondering if the piece of furniture would last out their stay.
“We aren’t little,” said Freddie. “They’re busy or have to go someplace with their mothers.” His lower lip trembled.
Rosie set her quilt square aside. “Let’s walk downtown …”
“And spy some more?”
“We can walk by Mr. Smith’s office on our way,” Rosie said.
“On our way where?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll have an adventure.” Rosie stood up and grabbed the key Aunt Etta had left for them. “Maybe we’ll see Kam.”
“I don’t have anything else to do so I guess I’ll go,” Freddie said, but stayed on the couch.
“When?” Rosie asked, tapping her toe.
“Okay, okay. I don’t know what your hurry is.”
Rosie locked the door and hung the key around her neck, tucking it inside her dress. She took off and Freddie walked behind, dragging a stick through the dirt.
As they walked deeper into the busy shopping district, Rosie felt like she was seeing the same group of soldiers she’d seen the last time they walked down the main street. She turned toward Mr. Smith’s office.
Kam was leaning against the wall outside the alley. He waved them over. “I was hoping to see you. Sorry I haven’t been out to your house yet but I’ve been busy delivering nets for the aunties. They’ve really stepped it up. Soon all the buildings in Honolulu will be covered,” he said.
“Has anything been happening there?” Rosie asked, pointing at Mr. Smith’s office. And then, as if she could make him appear by wishing, Mr. Smith walked out of his doorway, carrying quilts piled in his arms. “Quilts!” she said in a squeaky voice.
“Our mama had quilts,” Freddie informed him. “But now they’re gone, Rosie said.”
Rosie felt like she might finally find out something if—and it was a big if—any one of those quilts was her mother’s.
“Are they Mama’s?” Freddie whispered.
“Shh!” Rosie placed her finger over her lips.
“There are lots of Hawaiian quilts on this island,” Kam said, seeming to dismiss what Rosie considered important. She ignored him, not taking her eyes off Mr. Smith.
He struggled to keep the pile of quilts from shifting as he walked.
Rosie gave Mr. Smith a head start, then followed. The boys trailed behind her.
Mr. Smith turned a corner. Rosie motioned for the boys to wait, then they ran to catch up.
They walked farther away from the busiest part of town before the man paused before a wooden door. He leaned back as if to read the name on the window, tucked the quilts under one arm and pushed the door open.
Again, Rosie motioned for the boys to stay where they were as she crossed the street to try to read the sign on the window. Crisscrossed tape made the words almost illegible. I-L-L-E-G-I-B-L-E. But the shop sign said exactly what she’d expected: QUILTS OF HAWAII. Still, she cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions. He could be asking the owner to store them or display them. Or, as she suspected most likely, to buy them.
Rosie moved to the side of the window, trying to stay unseen yet able to see Mr. Smith. The boys crossed the street and joined her.
“I’m thirsty,” Freddie whispered.
“Later. You know we can’t afford to buy anything.”
“But it’s so hot,” he complained.
“Shh!”
“When we go back, Auntie has some drinks she’ll let us have,” Kam said.
“Where did he go?” Freddie asked.
“In there,” Rosie pointed.
Freddie dropped to his knees and peeked up through the front window. “He’s showing some quilts to the shopkeeper. They are spread out all over the counter.”
“Has she given him any money?” Rosie asked.
“Nope, she’s pointing at qui
lts all around the room. There are a lot of quilts in there!” Freddie said. “And now Mr. Smith is folding one of the quilts up, but no! She’s grabbing it and looking at it again.”
Rosie couldn’t stand not knowing what was happening. She placed her hands around her eyes to shade the sun and looked through the window. The shopkeeper immediately looked up at her and waved at her to go away. Before Mr. Smith could turn around, Rosie pulled back.
“Did any of them look like Mama’s quilts?” she asked Freddie.
“I don’t know! I don’t remember!”
It was killing Rosie to have to wait to see if any of the quilts the man had belonged to her family. “We’ll have to wait for him to come out and I’ll go in and see if they are Mama’s,” she said. “We’d better wait over there.” They moved to a shadier spot.
When Mr. Smith finally came out of the shop, without the quilts, he paused on the sidewalk, took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He seemed to look right at Rosie and the boys, but then right past them.
Mr. Smith stuck his handkerchief in his suit coat pocket and headed back the way he had come. When he was far enough away that Rosie was sure he was on his way back to his office, she motioned for Freddie and Kam to follow her back to the quilt shop.
Rosie opened the door to the quilt shop slowly while Freddie hung back. Kam stayed with him. “You don’t need us,” Kam said. “I have a feeling if too many kids come in the shop, it will make that lady nervous. She didn’t even like you looking in the window!”
“Then wait over there in the shade. I won’t be long.” Rosie stepped inside.
“What you want, girlie?” the Hawaiian shopkeeper asked. There was a pile of quilts on the counter in front of her.
“My, um, my mother really loves quilts and it is her birthday soon,” Rosie said. “I, I mean we were thinking maybe we could buy her one for her bedroom.”
The woman laughed loud and heartily. “You want to buy one of my quilts?”
“Did you make all of these?” Rosie asked.
Again the woman laughed. “No, no, they come from all the islands. Authentic Hawaiian quilts.” She ran her hand over the top of one of the quilts in front of her.
“You should learn to quilt and make one for your mama, I think,” the woman said as she looked Rosie up and down. “You cannot afford my authentic Hawaiian quilts.”
Rosie felt her entire body heat up. She knew her hair was messy and her dress tight and worn, but this woman knew nothing about her. She continued toward the counter. She wanted to take a closer look at the quilts on the counter. Quickly she turned up the corner of the pink and white quilt on top and saw the familiar initials of Auntie Palu. The quilt underneath Auntie Palu’s sported a set of initials belonging to neither her mama nor Auntie.
The woman quickly smacked Rosie’s hand away. She didn’t hit hard, but Rosie wasn’t used to being struck for any reason. She pulled her hand back and cradled it against her chest. Feeling the burn of tears, she turned.
The door opened and Rosie stopped in her tracks. “Auntie Palu!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” said Auntie Palu, drawing Rosie into a hug.
Leilani followed her mother into the shop.
“Hi,” Rosie greeted her.
“Hi,” Leilani said quietly. She shifted her weight from side to side.
Rosie wished she was wearing one of the nicer dresses Leilani had passed along to her, but she’d been saving them for school. “Thank you so much for the clothes. They will make all the difference when school starts.”
Auntie Palu had moved to the counter and spoke in a low voice to the clerk.
“I know those were some of the clothes you liked, and they probably look better on you than on me anyway,” Leilani said with a shrug.
Rosie couldn’t hold back any longer. “I miss you so much!” she burst out.
“Me, too.” Leilani reached up and wiped away a tear. “I am sorry I was such a …” she looked over her shoulder at her mother then whispered, “loser. Everything was starting to change. I was so upset you might go to a new school. And then there was the spelling bee. I know you are a better speller than I am. And I wanted to win so bad.”
“And neither of those things matter. I’ll go to a different school no matter what now that Malia lives in our house, and I won’t be in the spelling bee if I’m at a different school.”
“If they even have a spelling bee!” Leilani said. “I’ve been so busy helping Mama entertain soldiers that I haven’t had a chance to even look at the words. And I’m sorry I …” she paused, “borrowed your list.”
“Like you said, I wasn’t using it,” said Rosie. “And you did me a favor. You saved it from being taken with the rest of our stuff.”
“I am glad to see my girls together again,” said Auntie Palu.
“Auntie, look at those quilts on the counter,” Rosie said, turning her attention back to what had brought her into the shop in the first place.
“Ahh! Looks like very good,” Auntie Palu murmured as she surveyed the pile, then pulled her quilt out of the pile. “This one I made for my good friends the Schatzers! Where you get it?”
“That is my quilt now,” the shop owner said, taking hold of it. “I paid good money for it.”
That was exactly what Rosie was waiting to hear. She had been right. Mr. Smith was selling things he’d taken from their house.
“But it is stolen, taken without permission,” said Auntie Palu.
“The man said he was selling it for some …” the shop owner lowered her voice, “internees. That he was taking care of their property and they needed the money.”
All true, thought Rosie, except the internees never see the money.
“I will give you the money you paid for the quilt. How much?” Auntie Palu asked.
“No, Auntie Palu, you can’t do that!” Rosie said, taking Auntie’s arm and trying to pull her away from the counter.
The shop keeper named a price.
“That is all!” Auntie Palu exclaimed. “My quilt is worth more than that!” She threw some money on the counter, gathered the quilt, and motioned for the girls to follow her from the shop.
“Auntie, you are something else,” Rosie said when the door shut behind them.
“That man, selling your house, your quilts. He is a bad man,” said Auntie Palu.
“Aunt Etta says there is no way to stop him,” Rosie said.
“This war is changing the island. The aloha spirit, it is disappearing in the smoke of the bombs,” Auntie Palu said. She handed Rosie the quilt. “Leilani and I are on our way to the Army base to serve the boys refreshments and aloha spirit. We must not let this war take it away from us. Rosie, you must come with us! Leilani, invite Rosie to come to the army base with us.”
“I can’t today, Auntie Palu. I have to watch Freddie.”
“Auntie Palu!” Freddie called. He waved wildly.
“My Freddie! I have missed you!” Auntie Palu caught Freddie as he flew across the street and she covered his face with kisses.
“Rosie and I are detectives. We’re on a stakeout watching for Mr. Smith to sell some of our stuff,” he said. “Hey, you have a quilt!”
“It’s one of Mama’s,” Rosie said. “One Auntie Palu made.”
“No, you two must let the authorities take care of bad men,” Auntie Palu scolded Rosie and Freddie. “Tell your Aunt Etta what is happening.”
“She has so much on her mind,” Rosie said. “And I want proof of what is going on so when Mama and Papa return, they can do something about Mr. Smith.”
“Dear girl, I don’t know. You need to be careful,” said Auntie Palu.
“I will. Promise.”
“Who is the boy across the street watching you?” Leilani elbowed Rosie.
“That’s Kam. He’s a friend.”
“He’s going to teach us to surf,” said Freddie.
Leilani waved her fingers at Kam, smiling an
d batting her eyes.
Rosie elbowed her back.
“I’m just having fun,” said Leilani. “He’s your boyfriend.”
“No!” said Rosie. “He’s our friend.”
“We are late!” Auntie Palu said, walking quickly toward her car. “Next time, Roselie, you will come to help us with the Army boys.”
“I will be in touch. I miss you!” Leilani gave Rosie a quick hug then ran to catch up with her mother who was already halfway down the block.
Rosie hugged the quilt to her.
“So that’s it?” Kam said.
Rosie nodded.
“We don’t have to follow Mr. Smith anymore, right?” said Freddie as they walked toward home.
“I think we know what happened to the things from our house,” said Rosie. But, she thought, that is only half the mystery of her parents’ internment. She still didn’t know who had reported on them or why. That would have to wait until another day.
Chapter 28
Rosie sat outside on the stoop when they returned from following Mr. Smith. She had carefully recorded their adventure, names, places, and dates, in her journal and tucked the quilt away on a top shelf of the closet. She would bring it out at the right moment to surprise Aunt Etta.
And Leilani was her friend again. This was the best day in a long time.
Rosie hoped, after the day they’d had, that Aunt Etta would bring home something good from the food stand where she worked. She was not in the mood to eat coconut again.
There was a cooling breeze off the ocean and except for the barbed wire, a nice view of the water. Rosie realized that she was humming along with Hawaiian music drifting across the yard from the house next door. She’d thought that house was empty.
“Aloha!” a woman’s voice called as Rosie stood and stretched, trying to see who was playing music so loud she could hear it across the yards.
A youngish woman, maybe about Aunt Etta’s age, stood in the middle of the yard with two small children and they all swayed to the music. The woman had long dark hair with a red flower tucked behind one ear and wore a fitted flowered dress. “Join us,” she said, motioning gracefully for Rosie to come.
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