Chapter 11
We slip back into the tent just as Aunty Leilani gestures for everyone to return to the circle, looking ready to coax every last piece of dirty laundry out into the open.
“Welcome back, beautiful souls,” she says, settling onto her cushion. “Now we’re going to practice our final exercise. Vocal affirmations of appreciation. Each person will stand, look into their partner’s eyes, and complete this sentence: What I appreciate most about you is...”
Lani leans my way. “Ruby is not paying Kimo enough for this.”
I nod. “She’s going to owe him hazard pay.” And maybe a little extra for the inevitable therapy he’ll need.
“We’ll start on my left.” Aunty Leilani gestures to a couple I don’t recognize.
Several couples go first, tourists and locals sharing sweet affirmations about patience and morning coffee and holding hands during turbulence. A man in his sixties tears up describing his wife as the only person who’s ever laughed at his jokes on purpose. The whole tent loses it.
Then the spotlight shifts to our little corner.
Cozy stands gracefully, turning to Gary. “What I appreciate most about you is how you still look at me like I hung the moon, even when I’m covered head to toe in flour and cussing up a blue streak at a soufflé that just plumb gave up on life.”
Gary adjusts his glasses. “What I appreciate most about you is that you make every room brighter just by walking into it.”
Lani leans my way once again and whispers, “If I’d had a man look at me like Gary looks at Cozy, I would have learned to make soufflés a long time ago.”
I nod and whisper right back, “The man knows how to deliver a line, that’s for sure.”
Doreen stands and turns to Tom. “What I appreciate most about you is that you’ve always supported me, even when supporting me meant standing back and letting me fight my own battles.”
Tom rises to face her, his jaw working before he speaks. “What I appreciate most about you is your loyalty. To me, to the show, to everyone who’s ever needed you. Even when that loyalty cost you more than it should have.”
Those words seem to hit home a little more now that I know the context.
Bubbles bounces to her feet next and turns to her hubby. “What I appreciate most about you is that you always know exactly what to say to make people feel good, even when you don’t mean it!”
The tent goes silent.
Cam’s politician smile freezes. “That’s... mahalo, honey.”
“Your turn!” Bubbles beams, utterly oblivious, and oddly delighted at what might come next.
Cam clears his throat. “What I appreciate most about you is that you never overthink anything. Ever.”
There are no truer words.
Lani and Lopaka are next, and I’m girding myself for it.
“What I appreciate most about you,” Lani says slowly, “is that you smell like a coconut.”
Lopaka grins and shows off about three missing teeth. “What I appreciate most about you is that hundred dollars you promised me. But also, I appreciate that you didn’t hit me with that wooden spoon.”
I nod over at Koa. “That’s always a plus.”
He tips his head. “Evading assault usually is.”
“Or at least she’s evading it for now,” I mutter.
Ruby smolders at Kimo. “What I appreciate most about you is the way you handle a malasada—with confidence, with purpose, and with those big, capable hands.”
Oddly, I think she means it.
Kimo blinks. “What I appreciate most about you is that you paid in cash.”
She also paid in malasadas, but apparently, he’s not as wowed by donuts rolled in sugar.
Then Aunty Leilani’s eyes land on Koa and me. “Your turn, dear ones.”
I stand, and Koa rises beside me. Those espresso-dark eyes meet mine, and suddenly this fake relationship feels dangerously real. It is real, right? I mean, we swap a lot of spit, and we seem to enjoy one another’s company when we’re not solving homicides.
Come to think of it, we’ve only ever been knee-deep in a homicide investigation. Is that the only glue holding us together? Murder?
Some people find joy in collecting seashells together. We collect killers.
I clear my throat as I look right at him. “What I appreciate most about you,” I say carefully, “is that you show up. Even when it’s inconvenient. You show up anyway.”
Koa’s expression shifts. “What I appreciate most about you is that you make me laugh even when you’re driving me insane.
Which is most of the time. You see things other people miss.
And you care when it would be easier not to.
” His hand comes up to cup my face. “You’re brave in ways you don’t even recognize. ”
I forget to breathe. Is there still air in this room? I wouldn’t know.
Whatever this thing is between us, it’s not fake. And I’m running out of ways to pretend otherwise.
“Beautiful! Now everyone, join hands!” Aunty Leilani rises. “On my count, we shout: I choose connection! One, two, three—”
“I CHOOSE CONNECTION!”
Spam chooses that exact moment to leap from behind the refreshment table with an entire malasada clamped in his jaws. Three chickens explode from under the table in pursuit.
“That’s MY malasada!” Lopaka shouts.
Clearly someone cares about sugary donuts.
Kimo tries to grab a chicken, stumbles into the coffee urn, and it tips right over. In less time than it takes to say lawsuit, piping hot coffee floods the tent floor.
Ruby shrieks, jumping up with Kimo. They slip, they slide, and they both go down in a tangle of caftan and limbs.
People leap to avoid the hot java just as Spam launches himself onto the refreshment table with his claws skidding across the surface. The chickens follow him up with their wings flapping, and the haupia pie atop the bamboo cake stand starts wobbling like it knows it’s doomed.
“NO! Not the pie!” Aunty Leilani cries, but it’s too late. A particularly determined rooster crashes into the stand, the pie goes airborne, sails a clean three feet through the tent, and lands with a wet thwack right on top of Gary’s bald head.
Coconut cream slides down his glasses. And as if that wasn’t enough public humiliation, a chicken hops onto his shoulder and starts pecking the pie directly off his head.
“This is not how I envisioned my afternoon,” Gary says flatly, licking the pie off the side of his face.
Welcome to my life, Gary. The chickens always win.
Koa catches Spam mid-escape, one-handed. “Got him.”
The orange menace yowls indignantly through a mouthful of malasada.
Lani brandishes her wooden spoon at the chickens. “Stand down, you feathered freeloaders!”
Aunty Leilani stands in the center of the chaos, serene as a woman who’s seen far worse than coconut cream and crooked roosters. “And this, my beautiful souls, is what we call embracing the unpredictability of love.”
I look around at the destroyed tent and realize this afternoon has given us exactly what we needed.
Two suspects, two motives, and one murder weapon nobody’s identified yet.
The pieces are on the table. Now I just have to figure out which one of these sweet-faced women is hiding the recipe for homicide.