Page 2 of Tiki Beach
“Wow, Pearl, it’s beautiful,” Clara said, long purple beaded earrings swinging as she pointed to a miniature temple reached by a flagstone path. “Where’s all the money for this going to come from?”
“I’ve liquidated all my assets and stock already,” Pearl said. “Development is set to begin next week. I’m not getting any younger, and I want to see this done before I go.”
“And I’ve already filed the preliminary paperwork.” Edith tipped up her hat, the better to show us a legal pad covered in precise notes. “The property will be held in a perpetual trust and protected from development.” She gave Pearl a sharp look. “Though certain parties are already expressing . . . concerns.”
“Those ‘certain parties’ who want to stop my legacy from going forward can pound sand.” Pearl’s voice held steel beneath its refined surface. “I have friends in interesting places, yeah? The governor himself knows about this plan and approves of it.”
“As do we all, of course, Pearl,” Clara said.
“We’ve talked extensively about how to incorporate the endemic plants into your traditional Japanese tea garden vision,” Josie added.
“And I love this, too,” Ilima Kaihale chimed in, adjusting the kukui nut lei she wore over her kimono. Not only was Ilima my hot pilot boyfriend Keone’s mother, but she was also a powerful kumu (teacher) of various Hawaiian cultural arts and practices and well-known on the island. “It’s very generous of you to gift Ohia with your property, rather than keeping it for your family.”
“Oh, well.” Pearl flapped a beringed hand. “My family is all gone but for a nephew who lives in Honolulu and does well enough for himself not to need anything from me.”
“Then who are these . . . ‘certain parties’ who might object to your bequest?” I asked. My investigator ‘spidey sense’ was tingling. A valuable estate like this being donated to the public was bound to put someone’s undies in a bunch.
Pearl sniffed and poured herself another cup of tea. “I prefer not to speak of such things at this celebration.”
The sun had slipped lower, painting the ocean in shades of amber and rose as Pearl lifted her cup. The blueprints crinkled in the salt breeze, tugging at the fragile porcelain anchors holding down each corner.
Tiki leapt suddenly onto the table, hissing, her tail bottlebrush-thick and her one ear pasted back. “Tiki!” I exclaimed.
I reached for her but the cat dodged, weaving between the tea bowls with uncharacteristic clumsiness until she knocked into Pearl’s teapot—the one with the gold repairs tracing its history. Pearl’s fresh tea splashed across the plans as Tiki’s tail lashed. The cat stood in front of our hostess and yowled—a sound I’d never heard her make before. She swiped at the tea bowl Pearl held, then darted off the table to leap into the deepening shadows beyond the lanai.
“I’ll get towels,” I said quickly. Pearl set down her cup and her hand shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising strength.
“Leave it,” the older woman said, her eyes following Tiki’s retreat. “Some things must run their course.”
Our hostess returned her attention to the architectural plans, which we were all dabbing at with our napkins—except me, of course, because my napkin was already in use holding the pastries in my bra.
I got up to look for Tiki in the banana trees lining the deck as Kawika appeared with a pile of dishtowels. Pearl focused on the dry spot on the map in front of her. “The meditation garden will . . .” She blinked rapidly, the orchids on her headdress swaying. “Will be . . .”
I hurried to her side, noticing the sheen of sweat on Pearl’s upper lip, how her cheeks had gone pale beneath her makeup. “Pearl?” I reached for her, but before I could make contact, Pearl’s eyes rolled back. She slumped sideways, taking the antique teapot with her as she fell out of her low chair. “Pearl!” I lunged forward, barely managing to catch her head before it hit the teak flooring.
The woman’s frail body went rigid, then began to jerk and tremble—some kind of convulsion. A stroke? Porcelain shattered somewhere behind us as I held her.
“Call 911!” I yelled to Kawika, whose eyes were wide with alarm. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, but Edith already had hers out and was speaking loudly into it.
“Oh, Ms. Pearl!” Kawika’s slippers slapped against the lanai as he rushed to help. His hands shook as he helped me roll Pearl onto her side and hold her in place.
Edith’s voice cut through the chaos, clear and steady as she spoke to the dispatcher, but when I glanced up and met her eyes, her free hand clutched her Kwan Yin pendant, the knuckles white with tension.
“Stay with us, Ms. Pearl. Stay with us,” Kawika said, patting her back, rubbing her cold hands. I monitored Pearl’s pulse with two fingers on her tiny wrist—it was thready and erratic under her papery skin.
When the trembling stopped, I checked for breathing—but Pearl’s chest had gone still. Her pulse had gone to nothing. “Starting CPR!”
My training took over and I did the compressions, leaving the breathing part to Kawika. We could keep going longer that way.
Someone sobbed and the gathered Red Hats formed a circle of crimson toppers and worry around Kawika and me as we took turns working on Pearl. The scent of spilled tea mixed with the orchids that had shaken loose from Pearl’s hat, now lying crushed nearby.
Five compressions. Pearl’s ribcage was so dangerously frail I was afraid to press too hard lest I break her delicate bones.
Kawika breathed for her, his large frame dwarfing hers as he gently exhaled into her slack mouth.
Compressions.
Breathing.
