Kaua'i Me a River Page 2

  “Excellent,” she said. “Then I’ll look forward to seeing you on the twenty-seventh.” She didn’t wait for me to say good-bye before she hung up.

  I called the airline to reserve a seat on a flight to Lihue, Kaua’i. To get there in time for the meeting it was best for me to fly from Maui to Honolulu and then go on from there to Lihue. The overall distance wasn’t far, but it would take me a couple of hours to get there. The reservations agent told me I’d have to go to the Kahului airport and buy the ticket in person if I wanted the kama’aina rate. I figured they wanted to eyeball my Hawaii ID before handing over an inter-island ticket priced at about half the tourist fare.

  ***

  My boyfriend of one-and-a-half years, Honolulu-cop turned Maui-firefighter Hatch Decker, called me soon after I’d hung up from the airlines. I hesitated before answering because it was already ten o’clock and I was seriously late for work.

  “Hey, I hope you had a good birthday,” he said. “I’m real sorry I couldn’t get anyone to cover my shift yesterday. We’re still on for tonight, though, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Are you sure your wallet can handle Mama’s Fish House? It’s about as spendy as it gets.”

  “No prob. We’ve got reservations at eight. But how about later today? Have you got a full schedule or can you pop down here this afternoon for a little ‘party before the party’?”

  “I’d love to but I’ve got a wedding couple coming in at eleven. Judging from my phone conversation with the bride, it’s either a renewal ceremony or a late-in-life marriage. Either way, this lady seems bound and determined to get her money’s worth. I’m praying I’ll be able to be done with her by six.”

  “That’s what I like about my job,” Hatch said. “We get in and get out. Nobody jaws with us while their house is burning down or when we’re cutting them out of a wreck. So, how about it? Should I pick you up at say, six-thirty?”

  “Maybe I’ll come down to your place. You’re right on the way to Mama’s. And besides, I’ll already be down in Kahului. I’ve got to make a run out to the airport and pick up a ticket.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I’ve got to go to Kaua’i later this month.”

  “Why?”

  “I got a letter from a lawyer over there. I’ve been invited to a meeting on the twenty-seventh. The lawyer said it’s regarding an ‘urgent family matter’.”

  “But I thought your only family was Jeff.”

  “It is,” I said. “And I talked to Jeff and he doesn’t know anything about it.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah, really weird. But I called the lawyer and she convinced me I’m definitely the one she wants to see.”

  “When’s the meeting?”

  “On Wednesday, the twenty-seventh. Hopefully, I’ll be able to fly in and fly out the same day. Not much reason to stay over.”

  His end of the call went silent.

  “Hatch? You still there?”

  “Yeah. Hey, I’d really like to pick you up at your place. After all, it’s your birthday dinner. And I’ll take you to the airport before we head over to the restaurant. We’ll have plenty of time.”

  ***

  The couple who showed up at my shop at eleven o’clock that morning was indeed an older couple, probably in their mid- to late-sixties. She was a half-foot shorter than I, about five feet tall, with a short cap of what looked like Clairol Nice ‘n Easy Tawny Honey Blond hair. Her body had gone a bit soft around the edges but she was still in good shape. The groom was a few inches taller, with a bit of a paunch and a moon pie face that looked even moonier due to his cue-ball bald pate. His shiny noggin seemed to beg my hand to rub across it to see if it felt as smooth as it looked.

  I gestured for them to each take a seat in the guest chairs across from my desk. I scurried to the other side and sat down in my creaky teak swivel chair.

  I like working with older brides for a bunch of reasons. First off, unlike twenty-somethings, their wedding isn’t the first grown-up thing they’ve ever done so they usually don’t get all ‘bossy pants’ on me. And, they aren’t hell-bent on everything being ‘perfect’ and falling into fits of fury if the ‘dusty pink’ headbands turn out to be more like ‘heather pink.’ And finally, I haven’t met one yet who thinks she’s competing with Kim Kardashian for most over-the-top wedding ever. I mean, three wedding dresses? After the dust settled, it turned out Kim K had more dresses than months of holy matrimony.

  “I’m Mrs. Eleanor Baines,” said the bride, opening up the conversation. “I’ve been widowed for almost five years now. And this is my new hubby-to-be, Charles Lindberg. Isn’t that funny?”

  After a beat of confusion I realized what she considered ‘funny’ was her fiancé’s name. It was the same as the well-known aviator who, in 1927, made the first non-stop flight across the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Oh, as you may know, Charles Lindbergh is a beloved name here on Maui, Mrs. Baines,” I said. “When the original Mr. Lindbergh was alive he traveled all over the world, but Maui was his favorite place. He’s buried up near Hana, you know.”

  “First of all, dear, please call me Eleanor. And, as you’ll see on our marriage license, my Charles doesn’t put the ‘h’ on the end of Lindberg like that other fella did. But this is also my Charles’ favorite place. That’s why we want to get married here.”

  So far, ol’ Cue-ball Charlie hadn’t uttered a sound. He sat there looking like a kid at the dentist while mommy did all the talking.

  I nodded. “Great. Well, I’m here to make your wedding dreams come true. Let’s begin by getting the paperwork out of the way.” I handed them a wedding consultation form to fill out and two pens. Eleanor snapped up one of the pens and completed the entire form in record time. Charles used the opportunity to count the buttons on my shirt.

  “Here you are,” Eleanor said handing me back the form. “And you want a deposit of how much, dear?”

  “I usually request a thousand dollars, either check or credit card. And I ask for a credit card number to keep on file. After the wedding dinner I’ll present you with the total invoice, but if you want to keep it all on the same card, I’ll run it the next day so you don’t have to be bothered.”

  Eleanor plucked a Platinum American Express card from her wallet and slid it across the desk. I wrote down the information and handed it back.

  “Good,” she said as she tucked her wallet away. “Now that we’ve gotten you taken care of, let’s see about taking care of me, shall we?” She dragged a thick manila file folder out of her luggage-sized purse and started flipping out photos and swatches like a blackjack dealer with a five-deck shoe. The afternoon slipped away in a torrent of questions and demands for ‘must haves,’ ‘what do you think of’s,’ and ‘how much for’s”.

  When I finally got home at ten minutes after six I was starving. I grabbed a yogurt, but only ate half of it. I didn’t want to spoil my appetite for the scrumptious birthday dinner I’d be enjoying at one of Maui’s premiere seafood restaurants, Mama’s Fish House.

  I jumped in the shower. Fifteen minutes later I was wearing the only dress I owned, a short black shift with a wide band of tropical flowers circling the hem. I did a quick touch-up of the big three—blush, mascara, and lipstick. Then I rummaged through my closet searching for my one pair of sandals that weren’t made of rubber.

  “You look great,” said Hatch when I opened the door at precisely six-thirty.

  “You smell great,” I said, inhaling the sweet scent of machismo—soap, Old Spice and the lingering odor of smoke that firefighters can never get out of their hair.

  “We had a big one go up in Wailuku today. Did you see it on the news?”

  “No, I just got home. My wedding couple turned out to be talkers. Or, to be fair, she was a talker. The guy she’s marrying never said a word.”

  “It was a warehouse. Probably another insurance job.” Hatch wasn’t big on discussing the day-to-day challenges of my we
dding business. At first I found it infuriating that I’d tell him how annoying my clients had been that day and he’d change the subject. Now I find it refreshing. No matter how stressful my day, I can always count on Hatch to get my mind off work.

  “You think it was arson?” I said.

  “Yeah, in this economy it’s become a favorite method of unloading upside-down real estate. This is the third one this month.”

  “Huh. Are you sure you don’t mind running me out to the airport before we go to dinner?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said. “Why don’t I go to Kaua’i with you? I can add a vacation day to my usual two-days off. We could hang out and relax before you have to go to your lawyer thing. It’ll be fun. Kind of like a pretend honeymoon.”

  I shot him my ‘what the heck does that mean’? face.

  He gave me a ‘no worries’ shrug.

  “What do you mean ‘pretend honeymoon’? I said. The shrug hadn’t explained much.

  “It means we’ll have a great time. It also means we’ll probably get our room upgraded if we tell them we’re honeymooners.”

  We parked in the airport parking lot and walked across the street to the Hawaiian Airlines departures area. The waiting line for the ticket counter stretched through the open-air lobby and out on to the sidewalk.

  “This is going to take forever,” I said. I looked up at the ‘Arrivals and Departures’ board. “Looks like they’ve got a wide-body heading to the mainland in an hour.”

  “Stay here,” said Hatch. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd like a wide receiver sprinting downfield after shaking off an entire defensive line. I lost him in the swirl of sunburned tourists dragging bulging suitcases through the Disneyland-style check-in line.

  Hatch returned less than five minutes later waving two airline tickets.

  “How’d you do that?” I said.

  “We did a terrorist drill with the TSA last week. I dropped a name and a ticket agent whose shift was ending offered to stay a few minutes more.” He handed me my ticket. “Happy birthday, Pali.”

  The ticket was for the twenty-fifth, two days before my meeting on the twenty-seventh.

  “I’ve got it all worked out,” said Hatch. “If it all goes according to plan, by the time that meeting rolls you’ll have forgotten what the word ‘urgent’ even means.”

  I hugged him. This birthday was turning out way better than I’d expected.

  CHAPTER 3

  The best way to describe Mama’s Fish House is ‘heaven on earth.’ Anyway, I hope heaven’s got a palm grove flanking a pristine beach with blinding white sand and soft turquoise water. And I hope in heaven it’ll be possible to get fish so fresh it tastes like a breeze blowing in off the ocean. And I hope the meals will be served on gorgeous square plates garnished with purple and white orchids. Maui’s got dozens of five-star restaurants. Most of them are ridiculously overpriced, with lovely ambiance and creative chefs. Mama’s Fish House is all of that, but with one small distinction: the setting. Mama’s Fish House is in such a breathtakingly stunning location it’s nearly impossible to grumble when the check comes.

  While Hatch and I sipped twenty-dollar mai tais we talked about our upcoming trip to Kaua’i.

  “So we’re going over on the Monday before?” I said. “You know June is one of my busy months.”

  “It’s almost the end of June. You can afford a few days off. You deserve it.”

  “Care to elaborate on your earlier reference to a ‘pretend honeymoon’?” I said.

  He ducked his head. “Hey, I was just saying we’ll have fun. We both work so much it’s hard to kick back and leave it behind. One thing about living here is the visitors are always having way more fun than we are. I say, let’s play tourist.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a tiny bit disappointed. Not that I was eager to become my own client any time soon, but still it’d be nice to be asked.

  From Mama’s we went back to Hatch’s place in Sprecklesville. He lives on a sprawling multi-million-dollar compound owned by an Australian film producer. Hatch occupies the caretaker’s shack, which is no ‘shack’ at all. It’s a modern two-bedroom, two-bath house built in the plantation style favored by old-time sugar barons and modern Hollywood-types.

  Hatch’s dog, Wahine, greeted us at the door in a hail of barking and leaping. She’s the offspring of Farrah’s dog so both dogs shared a lineage of hyper-activity and high intelligence.

  “Chill it, Heen,” Hatch said, using his shorthand version of her name. He scooped the dog up in his arms. “Pali doesn’t want to be licked to death. At least not by you.” He winked at me.

  This was a side of Hatch I loved but rarely saw. Our relationship had started out kind of rocky, with misunderstandings and ambivalence on both our parts. Now he seemed to be hinting about taking it to the next level. Not that he’d admit it.

  We sat outside drinking wine and not saying much for about half an hour.

  “It’s nice to see you in a dress,” he finally said. “How come you always wear pants?”

  I stared at him. “Did you really just say that?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong? You have great legs. You should show them off more.”

  “Thank you, and duly noted. So, tell me what we’re going to do in Kaua’i while we wait for my meeting?”

  “Well, I thought we could do some beach stuff and eat at a couple of great restaurants. Maybe do a little hiking and sightseeing. You know, pretty much the tourist full monty.”

  “If we have time, I’d like to go up and see where I lived when I was a little kid,” I said. “It’s probably all different now, but I’d still like to see it. It’s where my mom was laid to rest.” I couldn’t go on. My throat had closed up so tight I was having a hard time breathing, let alone talking.

  “Hey, we’ll go wherever you want,” Hatch said. “Are you sure you’ll be able to find the place? Thirty years is a long time.”

  “Yeah.” I barely croaked it out. “I’ll find it. I remember it like it was last month.”

  A few days after her death, my mom’s friends had performed a ‘return to the womb’ ceremony while I watched from the beach. I remember shaking my head ‘no’ when someone offered to take me out on their surfboard to watch them release her ashes into the ocean. My most vivid memory was trying to comfort my little brother. He was naked like most of the kids whose parents had once lived at Taylor Camp. When the paddlers pushed off he began running down the beach screaming ‘mama, mama’ as if it’d finally dawned on him she was gone forever.

  I’m still not exactly sure how my mom died. I’d been told she’d died of ‘cerebral hemorrhage’ which sounded like a stroke, but as I grew older I overheard whispered references to a drug overdose and even suicide. It isn’t something I like to think about.

  “Look, I want us to have fun,” Hatch said. “But if it’s important to you to see some stuff from your past, we can do that too. I just hope it won’t bum you out. Time and tide, and all that.” He squeezed my hand.

  I nodded. “Oh, I forgot to tell you something. The lawyer letter was addressed to my legal name.”

  “But you told me hardly anybody knows your real name.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You think the lawyer is going to talk about your mom?”

  “What else could it be?” I said.

  “Well, whatever it is, I’ll be right there with you. We can handle this, Pali.”

  I stayed overnight at Hatch’s but my mind was elsewhere. He was tender and considerate, but I picked up an undercurrent of exasperation. I didn’t blame him. I was so consumed with ‘what if’ scenarios about my mom I was just going through the motions with Hatch.

  The next morning I started lining up vendors for Eleanor and Charles’ beachside wedding on the Fourth of July.
I had two other weddings before I left on the twenty-fifth so I’d be busy right up until it was time to get on the plane. But busy was good. Busy meant I had no time to fret about lawyers and meetings and ugly revelations about my mom.

  ***

  On the Friday before we were scheduled to leave for Kaua'i I went to Farrah’s store.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I said over the sound of the tinkly bell.

  “If it was going any better, it’d be gone,” she said. “You getting amped about your trip?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been working so hard this month it’ll be good to get away, but I still can’t imagine what the ‘urgent family matter’ could be.”

  “Ours is not to wonder why,” Farrah said. “In any case, don’t get bummed about seeking the truth. The truth shall set you free, right?”

  “Yeah, right. But I’m hoping the truth isn’t so lousy it totally blots out any good memories I have of my mom.”

  “We’re talking about your mother, Pali. You loved her and she loved you. No matter what happened, she was a good mom.”

  “What kind of a ‘good mom’ OD’s or kills herself when she has two little kids to raise? I mean, my dad was already in the wind. She left us orphans. If Auntie Mana hadn’t stepped up and taken us in, we’d have ended up in the system.”

  “I know. But don’t go jumping ship before your feet are wet. Maybe you’ll find out something good. Like maybe she got swept out to sea trying to rescue somebody. Or maybe she was helping sick people and she got sick, too. You know, like Father Damien.”

  “The whole Taylor Camp thing was pretty sick. A bunch of hippies living in tree houses smoking dope and picking up welfare checks. They weren’t ‘do-gooder’ hippies, Farrah. They were selfish degenerates. When the State kicked them off the beach they just went and squatted somewhere else.”

  “Even so. We’re talking about your ohana. And as screwed up as family can be, it’s still family.”

  Only Farrah could make the absurd sound almost rational.

  I told her I wouldn’t be coming in to my shop over the weekend. “I have a wedding in Kapalua tomorrow and then another one at Napili on Sunday. Our plane leaves early Monday morning.”