13. Laurie
Laurie
“Now what?” Laurie demanded when Kekoa made a second pit stop on the way back from town. He’d turned down a quiet side street and parked next to a hedge.
He turned to face her, and his hulking shoulders seemed to take up the entire truck cab. Laurie pulled back and put one hand on the door; she pulled the handle to release the latch.
Kekoa noticed her reaction before she was even fully aware of it herself, and he leaned away until his shoulder hit the opposite door.
“This is Auntie Kua’s place,” he said.
“Who?” Laurie touched her thumb to her chin and wiggled her index finger. She was so confused and distracted that she didn’t even realize she had used the sign along with the word – until Kekoa smiled like she had just done something adorable. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him.
“The local auntie who owns that empty building. Come on!” He hopped out of the truck and circled around to open her door.
“You’re serious?” she asked.
“Why not? She loves visitors. Come on!”
“I don’t– we can’t just– I didn’t even bring anything!”
Kekoa smiled and flashed the bag of candied ginger he’d gotten at the grocery store. Then he turned and walked through a gap in the hedge, leaving her to either wait in the car or follow him in.
After another moment’s indecision, Laurie hurried after him.
Beyond the hedge, the yard was teeming with ducks. From tiny white call ducks to huge red-faced muscovies, they all waddled around the muddy green yard waggling their little tails. Laurie couldn’t help but laugh.
“Mia would love this.”
“We should bring her sometime,” said Kekoa.
Laurie frowned at him. She didn’t want any man driving her daughter around. Not even this one.
“I stop by with ‘Io at least once a week,” he said. “He loves to feed the ducks.”
That’s right, Laurie thought. He has a son.
She had almost forgotten that the boy who was always running around the Madeira place with his cousins was Kekoa’s kid; she just thought of him as Mahina’s grandson.
A little old lady in rubber shoes came around the corner, trailed by another dozen ducks. Laurie recognized her face. She knew her the way that she knew every longtime resident of Pualena – by sight, if nothing else.
Kekoa walked across the yard and charmed her. Laurie could hear some of what he was saying, but not enough to follow the conversation. She couldn’t hear Auntie Kua’s voice at all.
Kua waved her over, and Laurie picked her way across the yard to join them.
“Aloha, Auntie.”
“So, you’re the one who wants to rent my old dance studio.”
That was quick. Laurie shot Kekoa a look.
“I hear you want to turn it into a bookshop,” Kua continued.
Laurie’s first instinct was to argue, but she bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to shoot down opportunities, however unexpected they might be.
“How would you feel about that?” she asked instead.
Kua popped a piece of candied ginger into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. After a while, she said, “I feel like this town would benefit from a good bookshop.”
Laurie grinned. Excitement rose up in her chest, overwhelming all common sense.
“It’s not as if the place is making any money right now, and I’d sooner let the pigs and mongooses take over than sell it to some mainland developer.”
“What would the rent be?” Laurie asked.
“I’ll have to think on it.”
“I understand.”
“How about this?” Kekoa interjected. “We fix the place up for free. No rent at the start, but we put in a new window, take out all those broken mirrors, fix the ceiling – anything that needs doing.”
“I’m listening.”
“After that, you give her a grace period to get up and running. Then, instead of rent, you get a percentage of the profits.”
Laurie stared at him. That was a lot to ask.
“You drive a hard bargain,” Kua said – but she was smiling.
Kekoa grinned. “Like you said, auntie. It’s not doing anybody any good right now.”
She narrowed her eyes and looked from him to Laurie. “Whose idea is this, anyway?”
Laurie cleared her throat and spoke up. “His idea. My dream.”
“Well then.” She popped another piece of ginger in her mouth. “You make a good team.”
“What do you think?” Kekoa pressed.
Kua waved him away and turned her full attention to Laurie.
“Laurie Kalama,” she said, serious now. She held out one knobbled, arthritic hand. “I’ve known you since you were this tall. I know you, and I know your family.” She glanced at Kekoa. “Both of your families.”
Laurie swallowed and nodded.
“Do you really think you can do this?”
“I’d like to try. Do you… do you think there’s enough of a market for it?”
“We can read, you know,” Kekoa interjected. Kua waved him away again.
“Ten percent of your sales.”
“Done,” Laurie agreed immediately.
Kua nodded slowly. Then she said, “Let me use your bookshop as my own personal library, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Deal.”
She looked back at Kekoa. “Go ahead and fix the place up, and then we’ll all of us draw up a contract. Now get off my lawn. It’s feeding time for the ducks.”
Laurie walked back across the muddy yard, feeling like she was floating through a fever dream. Her whole body buzzed with equal parts euphoria and fear.
It felt like God had reached down and handed her a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But was she worthy of it? Could she really make this happen?
Kekoa strode ahead and opened the passenger-side door for her.
“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”
Her jaw worked up and down, but her voice wouldn’t work.
Kekoa cocked his head to one side. “Are you okay?”
“You really want to do all that?” She peered at him, assessing. “Fix the place up like that?”
“Shoots! It’d be a fun project.”
“Seriously?”
“A counter, some bookshelves…” He shrugged. “Easy.”
“What’s in it for you?”
He shook his head like he didn’t quite understand the question.
“Well?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Help you, help the town… it’s good for everybody. This is my home. My son’s home. I want to fix what’s in my power to fix.”
“A rising tide lifts all boats,” she murmured.
“That’s aloha. That’s how it’s always been here.”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
He tilted his head again, confused. “What?”
“On an island where no one can afford rent, I just skate by?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It just seems weirdly… privileged.”
Kekoa laughed. “What’s wrong with good luck?”
“It doesn’t seem fair, that’s all.”
“Fair,” he scoffed. “You know what I think?”
“What’s that?”
“They don’t want us to have community.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“All dem capitalist buggahs!” He grinned as he broke into pidgin, but he was earnest too.
“They want us to pay for everything community used to give us. Food, houses, childcare. They want everybody to move far away from their families and work for big companies just to pay for what we already had in the village.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
“Who says that life has to be hard?” Kekoa’s expression softened. “People love you here, Laurie. They want to help you get back on your feet. Let them. Let us.”
“Okay,” she agreed quietly.
“Good.” He nodded with satisfaction. “You’ll get back on your feet, and you’ll build something that benefits the whole community. It’s a win-win.”
“Okay,” she said again. “I’ll try.”
She finally climbed up into the truck, and he shut the door behind her. The ride home was short and silent. When they got back to the Madeira place, he said goodbye with a friendly wave and went back to his family.
In fifteen years with Chris, all he had ever done was tear her down. Any dream that she shared with him was dismissed as unrealistic, with the underlying implication that she was incapable.
Then she mentioned her dream to Kekoa once… and he immediately cleared a path for her to do something that had felt impossibly out of reach.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that.