JoAnn Bassett - Islands of Aloha 07 - Moloka'i Lullaby (9 page)

“When is your wedding?” I said, confused by the one-word question.

“No,” she said in her now-familiar, holier-than-thou voice. “When is
she
taking over?”

Malama’s forehead wrinkled, but she kept the smile going.

“Right now, I guess,” I said. “I told you, I need to get back to Maui. Remember? My pregnant friend is having complications, and I need to go home.”

“Need or want?” Amanda spat out.

I shot her a quizzical look.

“Richard says people always mix those two things up. He says that you really
need
some things: like air and stuff. But most of the time, when you say you
need
something—like a new pair of Manolo Blahniks, or emerald earrings, or whatever—you actually just
want
them. So, you should use the word, ‘want,’ not ‘need.’”

It was hard to be lectured on the finer points of English grammar by a girl who probably thought a noun was a French hair clip, and no doubt confused “verb” with “herb” when talking about what she ate the night before, but I sucked it up.

“Well then,” I said. “I should say I
want
to go home. I’m worried about my friend, and I think she’ll feel better if I was there with her.”

“Fine, but you can’t leave until Richard gets back tomorrow night.”

I glanced over to check out Malama’s response to Amanda’s rude tirade. Her face appeared unconcerned. Probably she was glad she’d managed to score a twenty-four hour reprieve on putting herself in the line of fire.

Amanda went on. “Besides, Richard’s already booked us on a sight-seeing trip tomorrow, and we have to go.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Richard wants me to see some of the stuff over here. He said he felt bad I had to hang out in this boring place while he’s working, so he arranged for you and me to go on a sight-seeing trip.”

“What kind of sight-seeing trip?” I said.

She shrugged. “The usual, I s’pose. Richard hired a guy to take us around to the important sights. He said we had to meet him at the airport at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Amanda, I’m not a hired companion. I’m your wedding planner.”

“No, you said
she
was my wedding planner now,” she said, pointing to Malama. “So since you didn’t even bother to ask me if that would be okay, you have to do what I want. And what I want is for you to go with me on this tour. Besides, Richard has already paid for it.”

Malama screwed up her mouth and nodded, as if agreeing with Amanda’s logic. I, of course, didn’t.

“Okay, I’ll go with you for a few hours tomorrow, but I’m going to need to catch an afternoon flight back to Maui. And that’s a
need
, not a want. I’ll do the tour tomorrow, but then Malama will take over. Agreed?”

Amanda sat back in her chair and smirked. I was really sorry she’d beaten me to the punch by smacking George earlier in the day, ‘cuz there was nothing I wanted more than to wipe that stupid grin off her face.

***

I walked Malama out to the road where she’d parked her car. Like most of the cars I’d seen on the island, hers was an older model, with dents that had been allowed to rust and tires that were as bald as Howie Mandel.

“I’d like to apologize for Amanda’s behavior,” I said.

“You’re not her mother, so no apology necessary,” Malama said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve worked with girls like her many times. She’s probably just nervous. Girls think they gotta get all riled up to show their boy they got it all together. You know, like proving what great wives and moms they’re gonna be.”

I’d completely forgotten to clue Malama in on Richard and Amanda’s age disparity.

“Uh, about that,” I said, not sure how to tactfully phrase it.

My cell phone went off and I held up a finger while I checked the caller ID.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve got to take this. As you probably heard, my best friend is pregnant with twins and she’s developed complications.”

I clicked on the call. It was Hatch.

“Hey, babe, it’s me. No emergency. I just wanted to check and see if you’d been able to book a flight.”

I looked at Malama, feeling guilty about taking the call after she’d been so rudely disrespected by Amanda.

“Hang on a minute, okay?” I said to Hatch.

“
Mahalo nui loa
for helping me out with this wedding,” I said. “Can we get together and go over everything before I leave tomorrow?”

“Of course. No worries. I hope your friend gets better and her babies are fine and healthy. Call me when you’re able to meet.”

Malama got in her car and drove off. The roar of the engine was remarkably loud for the size of the vehicle.

“Sorry about that,” I said to Hatch. “Are you at work?”

“Yeah, so I can’t talk long. Who was that?”

“Oh, that’s Malama. She’s the one I told you about who’s taking over most of this wedding.” I quickly filled him in on what had transpired in the past hour.

“So, you’re not coming home until tomorrow?” he said.

“Yeah, it looks that way. But then, I’ll be able to stay home until the twenty-sixth—that’s a Friday, the day before the wedding. The way I see it, it’s short term pain for long term gain.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna need you to stay in touch. Farrah’s BP is still high, and if it spikes, she’s gonna be asking for you.”

“I’ll have my phone with me the whole time.”

“One more day, huh?” he said.

“Yeah, but then I’m off for three whole months.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything until later, but I’m taking some time off myself,” he said.

“Really? How long?”

“Long as I want.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I put in my notice,” he said.

“What?”

“Yeah, I had a long talk with the chief a couple of weeks ago. The way things are going around here, budget-wise, it’s gonna be a cold day at the beach before they can promote anyone to officer.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not getting any younger,” he said. “And soon, I’m gonna have a wife to support. I don’t want to still be pulling hose when I’m fifty years old, and I told the chief that. I turned in my notice today.”

“What are you saying? You quit your job?” I said. I let the
wife to support
nonsense slide by unanswered, because the possibility that he’d quit being a firefighter had my full attention.

“Not
quit
, exactly,” he said.

“Then, what would you call it?”

“Look, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. This isn’t a conversation we should have on the phone. Let’s talk about it when you get back here tomorrow.”

“Yeah, let’s,” I said.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m just kind of shocked. I thought this was the kind of stuff married people discussed
before
they just went off and did it.”

“It is. That’s why we’re gonna talk tomorrow,” he said. “Uh, the bell’s just started up. Gotta run. Love you.”

Funny. I didn’t hear any damn fire bell going off.

CHAPTER 12

Tuesday morning I got up before daybreak. The maid’s apartment at George Bustamante’s had teak floors, marble counters, and stainless steel appliances in the small kitchenette. The bed was outfitted with a plush mattress and covered with a hand-crocheted bedspread. The entire digs were definitely several notches above the condo Hatch and I had rented in Kaunakakai.

Noting the contrast got me thinking. Did Hatch have something up his sleeve about working full-time for the Australian guy who owned the fancy place where he lived? If not, why on earth would he quit his job? He loved being a firefighter and an EMT, or so he’d said. Granted, Maui firefighters didn’t make the kind of money he would’ve made if he’d stayed in Los Angeles, but… no, I wasn’t even willing to think about it. No way he’d try to pull something like that on me.

I’d made a cup of fancy coffee in the Keurig and brought it outside so I could sit by the pool, but by six-thirty Amanda still hadn’t stirred from her ohana. I was beginning to get worried about making it to the airport on time when Lono showed up.

“My mom said to tell you she can come by any time after you get back,” he said. “Just give her a call and she’ll come right over.”

“Your mom’s a saint,” I said. I eyeballed the door to Amanda’s
ohana
, to make sure she wasn’t eavesdropping. “Our bride, however, is something else.”

“My mom’s a saint, bride or no bride,” he said. “She’s always stuck by me, no matter what.”

I waited for him to fill in the blanks. I’ve learned that a steady gaze and a closed mouth usually prompts people to keep going.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I got myself in some trouble back when I first got out of high school,” he said. “Grabbed a car one night and took off. Like there’s anywhere to go on this island.” He shot me a smile, but I could tell the memory wasn’t a good one.

I continued to hold eye contact.

“Anyhow, I was hot-doggin’ and showin’ off for my friends. You know, acting cool.”

I didn’t know. I’d only had one good friend in high school—Farrah. And she and I were much more likely to have been caught hunched over her Ouija board hoping to learn if a guy she liked also liked her than out with bad boys in stolen cars. We were what could best be described as island-girl geeks. We weren’t computer whizzes or even marginally talented at math; our geekness sprang from an abundance of interest in Magic cards and forays into the realm of the paranormal. Our obsession with “The Hobbit” and Lisa Frank rainbow and unicorn stickers totally sealed the deal.

“So, anyway,” he said. “This little kid just pops up outta nowhere. No way I could stop in time.”

He lowered his head.

“Oh,” I said.

“Yeah. They took him to the hospital in Kaunakakai, but he didn’t make it.”

“Wow. That must’ve been tough.”

He nodded. “I did two years in Halawa for vehicular manslaughter. Just got out eighteen months ago.”

“You still on probation?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I studied criminology at U of H. We had to learn the mandatory sentences for common crimes.”

“Yeah. Anyhow, Mr. Bustamante took me on. No doubt my mom did some major arm-twisting, and that woman’s
fierce
.” He smiled, and this time it was genuine.

Once again, I checked out Amanda’s
ohana
door before speaking. “Well, she’s gonna need to be fierce with that one.”

“Don’ worry. My mom’s like a momma whale,” he said. “Big and strong, and she don’ sweat the small stuff. She’ll push right through anything that gets in her way.”

Amanda came out of her quarters at a few minutes before seven. She was done up as if she was going shopping on Rodeo Drive, not about to go sightseeing in an open four-wheel drive vehicle.

“How do we get breakfast around here?” she asked.

“I don’t know. When I came out earlier, this coffee carafe was on the table. But no one’s come down here since.” I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I’d been banned from the main house. But then, maybe after the slapping incident she had been, too.

“Don’t they have a bell or something?” she said. “How’re you supposed to call the help?”

Since I was
the help
, I thought it best not to weigh in.

Lono was trimming a bush on the other side of the pool.

“Yoo-hoo,” Amanda trilled to him. “I need you to come over here.”

I pondered pointing out to her that she’d used the word,
need
rather than
want
, but then thought better of it. I’d be spending a good part of the day with the woman, and I certainly didn’t need to start off on a bad foot.

Lono ambled over. “Yeah?”

“I’d like a poached egg, medium. With rye toast, no butter. Oh, and chamomile tea. And it needs to be quick, ‘cuz we need to leave.”

Lono stared at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign tongue.

“What’d you say?” he said.

She repeated her breakfast order in a slower, louder voice.

He continued to stare, and I broke in. “Lono, would you do me a favor and ask someone from the kitchen to come out here? Amanda would like to have breakfast before we leave.”

He slowly shook his head, but then he turned and went up the walkway to the house.

“Lono’s the caretaker,” I said. “He doesn’t work in the kitchen.”

“He’s the
caretaker
? Well, he sure isn’t taking very good care of me.”

***

Amanda played with her food for almost twenty minutes before I could convince her we absolutely had to leave for the airport to meet the tour guide. I was a bit concerned about being late, but we were in Hawaii. A half-hour here or there isn’t usually cause for a hissy fit.

Amanda told me our tour guide was named “Tim.” I asked at the airport information desk if the guy knew “Tim,” and was answered with a squint.

“We got no ‘Tim’ around here,” he said. “Sorry.”

The information guy was tiny and bald, with oddly-shaped ears and a nut-brown complexion. He could’ve worked as a body double for Yoda in the Star Wars movies.

I went back over to where Amanda was standing to see if she had any paperwork from the tour company. She rummaged in her voluminous Hermés handbag and came out with a colored flyer.

“I got this brochure at the airport in Maui,” she said. She’d pronounced the word “bro-chure,” with a hard “ch,” like in “teacher.” Locals are often accused of mangling the Queen’s English, but I’ve heard just as many malapropisms and twisted pronunciations out of the mouths of visitors as local people.

I scanned the brochure and found the proprietor’s name: Timo.

I walked back over to the Yoda guy. “We’re looking for Timo,” I said. “From Friendly Isle Excursions.”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “He right over there, eh?” He pointed to a guy who could’ve been Lono’s twin standing near the arrival doors. He was on his cell phone.

“That’s him?” Amanda muttered to me, as we crossed the linoleum floor. “See why I made you come along? That guy’s scary. Like he’d love nothing better than to take me out in the woods somewhere and—”

I didn’t let her finish.

“Let’s get going,” I said. “We’re late.”

Judging from Timo’s forlorn expression as we made our way toward him, he was not looking forward to taking Amanda anywhere. He narrowed his eyes as we got closer, apparently pondering the prospect of taking two young
haole
women—one of them in strappy four-inch heels—out sightseeing all day. He’d probably hoped to score a middle-aged couple from Nebraska, in sensible sneakers and L.L. Bean sunhats. He’d looked forward to spending the day with people who’d ask intelligent questions about the flora and fauna of Moloka’i, and who would, at the end of the day, grace him with a generous tip and then gush about his tour company on TripAdvisor.

We, on the other hand, probably looked like two squabbling step-sisters—one high-maintenance, the other barely able to pay her rent. He no doubt figured we’d signed up for a tour of the island to keep from scratching each other’s eyes out over who’d be the first to bitch on Facebook about how bored we both were on Moloka’i.

I decided to clear things up right away.

“
Aloha
, I’m Pali Moon,” I said. I stuck out my hand. “I’m a wedding planner from Maui. I have a client here who’s getting married on your beautiful island, and she’s excited to see all the wonderful sights. I’ll be coming along to keep her company since her fiancé had to make a quick trip back to the mainland.”

His face relaxed a bit. “
Aloha
. I’m Timo.”

“Great,” I said. “Timo, this is Amanda. Amanda, Timo.” I hoped she might extend her hand or at least give a nod of greeting, but Amanda appeared to have strict rules regarding acknowledgment of subordinates.

“Okay, then,” I said. “What do you have planned for us today?”

“Well, the first part of your tour—the mule ride—leaves in twenty minutes, so we gotta haul ass,” he said. He smiled as if hoping we’d appreciate the pun.

“The
what
?” said Amanda.

“The mule ride to the Kaulapapa Settlement. You’re signed up for it. We need to leave right now to make it to the mule barn by—”

Amanda broke in again. “Uh, wait a second. I need to make one thing perfectly clear. There will be no mule, there will be no barn. This must be my fiancé’s idea of a joke. Let me take a selfie with you to prove to Richard I showed up, but then I’m gonna call and tell him I’m going shopping instead.”

She proceeded to hold up her phone and click off a couple of shots of the three of us.

“Okay,” she said. “You two stay here while I make the call.” She flounced over to a wooden bench and plopped down, phone up to her ear.

When she was out of earshot, Timo turned to me. “And people wonder why we’re not falling all over ourselves to get more tourists over here.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Visitors. They’re kinda like cockroaches: once they take over, they’re tough to get rid of.”

As soon as it was out of my mouth I regretted it. My business depended on visitors. It was my job to make sure they had a good time and left with a smile on their face and
aloha
in their hearts. And nearly all of the mainland clients I’d worked with were great people. Some had even become friends.

But, every now and then, I run into someone who seriously makes me doubt why I chose to make my living dealing with people who view Hawaii as a kind of Disneyland, where they’re the guests and we’re simply “cast members.” I mean, there’s got to be a limit to the amount of rudeness and bad behavior one should have to put up with in their own back yard.

Ironically, by the end of the day I’d bear witness to the story of a unique group of visitors who were not only decent and kind, but literally put their lives on the line for our island people. In some of the darkest years of Hawaii history, it was outsiders who came forward to practice the purest form of
aloha.