Unfortunately, the wind changed. A spark jumped to the mill, and it was ablaze before anyone noticed. Not everyone escaped.”
Michael and I sat in silence, waiting for more.
“Some people said it was the luna’s mistake for going ahead with a scheduled burn on a day with wind. Others said it was my father’s fault for wanting to have every field perfect when the demand for Hawaiian sugar was dropping. Who knows? It was a bad fire, an unlucky wind, and nine men died.” He looked from the distance back at us. “All of the men who died had wives and children. These are the women my father visited personally to give condolences, and offered help with housing outside the village, if they chose to leave.”
“Kind of like death compensation?” Michael said.
“We didn’t have fancy union terminology in those days. We just called it doing the right thing.”
“That couldn’t have been the reason Harue was given a house,” I said. “You see, her husband, Ken Shimura, wasn’t working at the mill in 1938. He’d left for the Big Island by 1926. He worked on another Pierce plantation there, and I guess passed away there, because Yoshitsune never saw him again.”
“You don’t say.” JP’s words came slowly, and he seemed to be studying me as sternly as when I’d casually said the words about Mitsuo Kikuchi that had sent him into a fury.
“What can you tell me about the Liangs, the family to whom the house is still leased?”
Michael cleared his throat. “Honey, this has all gotten a bit awkward, especially after Mr. Pierce-JP-has been so generous as to give us lunch.”
“I have no problem telling you what I know, but it’s not much. Winston Liang was the son of a good Chinese worker who’d already retired and moved into Waipahu, running a laundry. Winston asked my father if he could lease the cottage and land around it. It was as simple as that, and you know, all things considered, it was a good move; from the fishing business he started there, he made enough money to buy a house in town, and then another-and lo and behold, today he’s gone, had a heart attack over-eating at Zippy’s, but his surviving heir is one of the biggest Chinese property owners on Oahu.”
“Do you think it’s possible that Winston Liang assumed control of the property with all Harue Shimura’s possessions still inside?”
“Sure. You have to understand, she died in her garden-dropped from a stroke, the doctor told us. No relatives or friends came to clean up anything. In situations like this, the new tenant’s wife keeps what she wants and throws out the rest.”
I was about to say that it certainly would have been in the Liang family’s interest to throw out any deeds of ownership they found, but the maid returned, a cordless telephone in hand. In her soft voice she said, “Your brother wants to speak to you. Shall I tell him later?”
“No, I’d better take it.” He looked at us. “Sorry for cutting things short. Lindsay’s going to want to know the extent of the fire damage.”
“Oh, we understand, and we didn’t mention it before, but we’re very sorry about the fire,” Michael said, getting to his feet. “Thank you so much for your time, and your patience with our questions.”
“Nothing to thank me for. I don’t think I particularly helped anything,” Josiah Pierce answered.
But as Michael and I said goodbye, I thought that he had helped, and perhaps it was better that he didn’t know it.
20
I TOOK THE wheel on the way down Tantalus Road, because driving is easier than being a passenger when it comes to carsickness. Part of it was avoiding a replay of my earlier nausea, but I was also feeling frustrated and tired of sitting on my hands. Driving at least gave me power.
“The deed of sale, if it ever existed, is gone,” I said glumly. “The Liangs probably just got rid of it, either accidentally or intentionally.”
“That’s what he wants you to think,” Michael said. “He was quite warm and seemingly open, but that could be disingenuous. I’d meant to catch him off-guard with the mention of Will, but his reaction made me wonder.”
“I want to find Winston Liang’s son. I wish I’d asked his name.”
The Sebring’s top was down, and a gust of wind flared a bit of my dress upward. Michael put his hand on my thigh, and I felt the hard wedding band against my skin. Now I felt desire mixed with sadness that it had all been a ridiculous game.
“Don’t forget to take off the ring,” I said, lifting his hand and fixing the dress. It was a rather complicated maneuver, with the hairpin Tantalus turns.
“Can’t wait to be divorced from me, huh?” Michael sighed heavily, slipped off his gold band, and dropped it into one of the car’s two empty cup-holders.
I looked straight ahead, not wanting to meet his gaze. “It’s just that I don’t want you to embarrass yourself by forgetting to take the ring off. Earlier today you mentioned that we should stop in at the yacht club, and I’d hate for you to walk in and have your friends think you’d just, boom, had a quick marriage.”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks-you should know that by now. But there is something I’m starting to get mad about.”
“What?” I asked cautiously.
“You haven’t kissed me yet today. It’s like what happened between us yesterday has been absolutely buried and forgotten! Hello, there. We’re officially dating.”
“It’s a two-way street,” I said, unable to suppress a smile. And when we reached the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, and I was trying to remember which way to turn for Ala Moana, he took advantage of the lull, and he kissed me with something that told me he might have been feeling the same way.
WE LEFT THE car at the shopping center again-I was starting to feel vaguely guilty, like I should step in and buy something there, sooner or later. It felt nice to stroll hand-in-hand to the yacht club, and nicer still to see Michael warmly welcomed by fellow racers, who had grown in number since the previous day. Three more sailboats had arrived, and we were both coaxed into sitting down. A quick hello, Michael said, before he dropped me back at the resort.
“Mike!” Kurt called out, his fingers forming a mock-gun the way little boys liked to do.
“Rei, I’m sorry we didn’t know about you! I would have ordered you a T-shirt too.” A fair-skinned redhead wearing shorts and a white T-shirt with a photo of
“That’s OK. I run, so I have too many T-shirts already.”
“What you don’t have is a drink. You look like a mai tai girl.” Kurt appraised me as if it were the first time he was seeing me.
“I don’t know about that-”
“We don’t have time for a drink at all,” Michael said. “We really just stopped in to say hello.”
“Why are you always leaving? You missed out on a chance to be interviewed by both papers yesterday,” Parker said.
“I’d rather not be in the papers. So what’s your plan for the rest of the day? Beach and then a good dinner?” Michael stood up, and from his posture, I could see he was about to bolt.
“Just wait a minute! You’ve been so rude, Michael, not properly introducing Rei to Jody and me. My name is Karen Drummond; I’m Parker’s wife.” The woman in Pucci extended a hand with long, scarlet nails toward me, making me regret my own manicure’s lack of color. “You’re joining us for dinner tonight at Alan Wong, aren’t you? We booked a table for seven at seven. Easy to remember that way.”
I was about to say I’d like to, but I should check with my family first, but Michael was already shaking his head. “I hate to miss catching up with you, Karen-and Jody, too-but Rei and I have another plan tonight. We’ll all eat together at the Transpac banquet, though.”
“Weren’t you being a little rude, Michael?” I asked as we waited to cross Ala Moana Boulevard a minute later. “Or is there a reason you don’t want me to know your friends?”
