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“Hope you packed your good underwear. Charlie peeks.”
I finish chopping lettuce. Trudy produces a cucumber and two tomatoes. I resume my chores, too bewildered to think.
Ann has a stainless steel bowl where she’s adding generous pours of soy sauce and sesame oil. Next she tosses in chopped green onions and red pepper flakes.
“That’s the poke? What is poke?”
“Hawaiian specialty. Basically a raw tuna salad.” Sure enough, watching her stir, I can make out cubes of red tuna meat being mixed around in the bowl. “Everyone has their favorite recipe. This is my secret ingredient.” Ann points to another small dish filled with finely chopped nuts. “Macadamia. And then as the final step…” She adds a squeeze of lemon, a dollop of honey, and gives it a final toss. “Voilà. Guarantee you right now, it’ll be the best you’ve ever tasted.”
“My specialty is crepes,” Trudy supplies. “Or Sunday morning biscuits and gravy.”
I keep my attention on chopping salad. Soon enough, we seem to have lunch in order. A green salad supplied by me, a bowl of sticky white rice produced by Trudy, and as the crowning touch, Ann’s tuna poke. A timer rings, and Trudy withdraws a basket of warmed, soft white Hawaiian rolls.
Out front, I hear the screen door bang open, followed by water running in the handwashing station. Apparently, the rest of the crew has arrived.
I’m nervous. I’m always anxious meeting so many people at once. One of the most common things you’ll hear at AA meetings is how much most social situations wig us out. We had to have a drink before walking into that crowded room or going on a first date or showing up for morning class at the high school. Certainly that explains most of my misspent youth.
My father had to have a drink to get off the sofa. Does it make me stronger than he was that I only needed one to leave the house?
Now the first two people file into the kitchen. I recognize the man immediately but do my best to school my expression.
“Vaughn,” he introduces himself, his light-blue eyes and dark tanned skin a perfect match for the photo in Twanow’s dossier. His brown hair was probably once cut military short but now stands up on end, while his cheeks are shadowed with at least a few days’ growth. He reaches out a hand. “You must be Frankie Elkin.”
“Yes.” We shake hands, his calloused fingers rough against my skin. It’s possible I hold on a beat too long, but then I’m more than a little jet-lagged.
“Trudy and Ann showing you the ropes?” He has a deep voice to go with his strong handshake. He’s wearing a blue T-shirt with a faded red logo, battered gray cargo shorts, and a pair of half-destroyed Crocs. He also has a black strap hanging across his body attached to a radio. It’s issuing a low-grade buzz of static, apparently nothing to be concerned about.
“Yes,” I manage again.
“Your cabin?”
“Adorable!” The burst of enthusiasm catches us both off guard. He smiles, a bit reluctantly it feels, but I like him better for it.
“Hey there, freshie. Pleased to meet ya,” a new voice speaks up merrily. Belatedly, I shake hands with the second man, who sports an overgrown mop of salt-and-pepper curls, heavy on the salt, and cheeks covered by a scruffy gray beard. I peg his age at anywhere between fifty and sixty, with the wiry build of a whippet and fingertips so stained by oil no amount of washing will ever get it off. Sure enough:
“Name’s Charlie. Head engineer.” I think back to the arrows on the welcome sign and peg him as the Australian. “Which is just a fancy way of saying I fix everything around here. Generally without the proper tools or supplies, mind you, but I get it done.”
“You have my luggage.”
“Sure thing, mate. Will getya your suitcase back tomorrow, no worries. Contents are already sitting on your bed. And no matter what those lovelies tell you, I don’t peek.” He winks at Trudy and Ann. Trudy rolls her eyes. Ann, I notice, blushes a charming shade of pink. Well, well.
“Say cheese.”
I barely have time to register the words before Charlie is holding up his cell phone and snapping a photo. “For our records,” he announces merrily. “Or if need be, to identify your body. Cheerio.”
I’m still gaping at him when others appear in the dining room, washing their hands, then materializing in the kitchen to grab a plate and load up. Very quickly the space becomes a blur of faces and names. I recognize Copilot Brent and Captain Marilee—
“Poke! Ann, you shouldn’t have. But I’m so glad you did!”
Then an absolutely stunning Hawaiian woman strides into the kitchen, sweat-soaked white tank revealing darkly tanned and toned arms, while dark-blue shorts set off incredibly long legs. Gotta be the architect Aolani. She is every bit as impressive as Twanow said. Now Aolani offers me a quick handshake, followed by a much longer assessing glance. I have to work hard not to squirm beneath the power of that scrutiny. Finally, she nods once to herself, then hits the food. I want to believe I passed inspection, but it’s just as likely I’ve been dismissed completely.
Behind her comes a leanly built young man with short-cropped black hair and sharply chiseled features. His cheekbones alone, not to mention his deep chocolate eyes, thick brows, perfectly formed lips… Now it’s my turn to stare.
A faint, understanding smile, as if he’s used to such attention, but not defined by it. “Ronin Katsumoto. Archaeologist. And you are?”
I work on remembering my name while we shake hands. In the end I stutter out something that at least begins with the letter F, then watch Katsumoto load up his plate and give Trudy and Ann an appreciative nod before returning to the dining room where he takes a seat next to Aolani. I wonder if they’re a couple—one being an architect who wants to develop an environmentally and culturally important atoll and the other who’s inspecting the same atoll in terms of preserving and protecting said environment and culture. They should be at odds, but what’s that saying about opposites attract? Not to mention, their combined genes would produce gorgeous children whose physical beauty would be a gift to all mankind.
Belatedly, I realize there’s a positively tiny woman with thick glasses and a lively smile standing before me.
