“At the time of this video, you’d opened a small business on a neighbor island. Good for you; I hope your business is extremely successful. You’re my only child who never asked me for anything. Your brothers and sisters made innumerable demands. It was usually for more than they needed, and in most cases, more than they deserved.
“I’m sure the rest of you watching are wondering when I’ll get around to you. In my mind’s eye I can imagine you and your offspring toting up the spoils now that the old man’s gone. Well, here it is.”
There was a collective intake of breath. Phil went on, “During my life I was forced to live with—and even support—bad behavior and lousy decision-making. Certainly, some of the blame falls to me, but not all. Therefore, I’m done with that. With the blessing of my attorney and my accountant I’ve decided to bequeath my entire estate to two, and only two, beneficiaries. One-half of my total assets will go to my loving wife, Suzanne, or Sunny, as she prefers to be called. The other half will go to my eldest daughter, Pali Moon.
“Throughout my final ordeal Sunny has stood by me without complaint. She asked for little, but gave so much. I love you, Sunny. I owe you everything. Not only for what you’ve done for me but even more for what you’ve promised to do for me.”
Everyone turned to look at Sunny but she kept her eyes glued to the image on the television.
Phil Wilkerson droned on. “Valentine advised me to make this video so everyone could see that the choice of how I would divide my assets was mine and mine alone. She and Tim Abbott will fill you in on the details. I wish you all a life as wonderful as mine has been. Aloha and God bless.”
The television screen went dark. Valentine clomped over to the windows and lifted the shades. The sunlit room remained silent for about three seconds. Then all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER 8
“These two twits get everything?” shouted Joanie Bush, the aging Anna Nicole Smith-wannabe. She pointed at me with a stiletto-sharp fingernail. “This one didn’t even know Phil was her father until an hour ago. And her…” she pointed at Sunny, “just magically appeared in time to rake in a fortune.”
“The decedent has the sole vote in deciding who will inherit the estate,” said Valentine. “And in this case, at least Mr. Wilkerson made the effort to explain his decision. He appreciated the care his wife Sunny gave him and he was repentant about not being a loving father to Pali.”
“Well, excuse me, but he was a lousy father to my two kids,” said Peggy Chesterton, wife number one. She turned to me. “Trust me, you didn’t miss much. I’m sure my kids would’ve rather had the money.”
While the ex-wives engaged in side conversations, Sunny Wilkerson raised a hand and waited to be called on.
“Yes, Sunny?” said Valentine.
“So, that’s it? Pali and I will split the estate?”
“That’s it,” said Valentine. “Except Mr. Wilkerson requested that you be allowed to live in the Kaua'i property for as long as you wish. The property will not be sold until you want to dispose of it.”
“What’s the matter, Sunny D?” said Joanie. “Did Phil promise you the whole enchilada? Last I heard Phil was worth thirty million bucks. Are you afraid you won’t be able to snag a new boy-toy with a mere fifteen mil?”
Rita, wife number two, smiled at that but the others kept up the glowering.
“This can’t be legal,” said Peggy. “My kids deserve at least something. I’m gonna call my lawyer.”
Joanie shot back, “Oh shut up. My kids are getting screwed as much as yours, but there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. One thing about Phil, he always did things legit.”
Peggy turned to Sunny. “Well, just the same, don’t rack up the credit card bills, sweetie, because I’m not taking this lying down. I want to see what a judge says about Phil cutting my kids off like this.”
“Are you deaf?” said Joanie. “A judge can’t do anything. It’s up to these two to make this right.” She pointed at me and then Sunny.
I grabbed my beach bag purse and pushed back my chair. Joanie reached over and gripped my upper arm. Her near-lethal fingernails bit into my flesh but I refused to give her the satisfaction of an ouch.
“Listen up, missy,” she said. “You can prance on out of here thumbing your nose at your brothers and sisters or you can do the right thing. What’ll it be?”
I stared her down. Even if I’d been giving serious thought to being generous, there was no way I’d allow her to think she’d bullied me into it.
“Let me go,” I said in my best CLC voice. “I’ll give you two seconds to think about it.”
“Oh, and then what? You sound like your idiot father. All threats and bluster, but in the end he always paid up.” She released my arm. “You know this is wrong.”
Peggy piped up. “Oh give it up, Joanie. She didn’t know Phil, but she’s a chip off the old block. The only way our kids are going to get anything is to fight this in court.”
Peggy got up and left. Before she could pull the door closed behind her, Joanie grabbed her stuff and followed her out. Rita and Linda left soon after. Tim Abbott mumbled to Valentine that he’d see everyone out.
“Is it true my father was worth thirty million dollars?” I said to Valentine.
“That’s an estimate,” she said. “What with probate costs, real estate commissions and taxes, Tim tells me the approximate net value will be more like twenty to twenty-five million.”
“That means around ten million each?” said Sunny.
“At least, maybe more.” Valentine looked pensive. “Although if Peggy actually does contest the will, we may be looking at higher attorney fees than we anticipated.”
“I can understand why she’s angry about me getting anything,” I said. “After all, I just showed up out of nowhere. But what’s her problem with Sunny? Isn’t Hawaii a community property state?”
“It is,” said Valentine. “And Phil was clear he wanted Sunny’s half to be treated as community property, for tax reasons. But don’t worry. The will is iron-clad. Once the initial shock wears off I doubt if we’ll hear anything further from those ladies.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Sunny. “Peggy’s family name carries a lot of weight around here.”
“You two have a lot to talk about,” Valentine said, getting up to leave. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. I’ll be in touch regarding probate court. It’d be best if you could both plan to be there.” She went out and closed the door.
Sunny and I stared at each other across the table.
“How long were you married?” I said.
Sunny blew out a breath. “Oh great. Now you’re joining the lynch mob?”
“No, sorry. That didn’t come out right. It’s just that you look quite a bit younger than my father.”
“I am. But to be fair, by the time your father made that video he was already pretty sick. He looked older than he was. He was only fifty-four when he died.”
She fiddled with a plain pearl earring in her earlobe. “And as far as my age, I turned thirty last winter. I guess that makes me a few years younger than you.”
I nodded.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Look,” I said. “I came here this morning expecting to hear something about my mom. She died when I was five and I was never told much about how she died. Now I find out I had a missing father who’s been gouging me for cable TV service for the past fifteen years and who died and left me a pile of cash. It’s all kind of surreal, you know?”
“Tell you what,” said Sunny. “Let’s go someplace to talk. You like shave ice?”
***
As I went down the two flights of wooden stairs I felt my hand gripping the handrail and my feet on the treads but that’s about all. What had just happened? And why had I agreed to get shave ice and hang out with my father’s trophy-wife widow? More than anything I just wanted to locate my rental car and get back to Poipu as fast as possible.
I didn�
�t want ten million dollars. And I certainly didn’t want seven pissed-off half-siblings. And most of all, it creeped me out to learn my father had been lurking in the shadows all along and he’d never once shown his face or owned up to his responsibilities.
“You know,” I said when we made it to the ground floor. “Can I take a rain check on the shave ice? I’m feeling a little overwhelmed right now and I need some alone time.”
“Sure, we can talk later. Where are you staying?”
“I’m down in Poipu with my boyfriend but we’re flying back to Maui this afternoon. We both need to get back to work tomorrow.”
She smiled. “Actually, if you think about it, only one of you needs to get back to work.”
“Not if Peggy has her way.”
“No worries. Valentine’s right, the will is solid. The truth is, Peggy never got over Phil. She and her father were always lurking in the background. Phil put up with it because he needed the mayor’s support for his business. But your father wanted the two of us to have the money and we’re getting it. End of story.”
I nodded. “I guess I just need to go home. I’m kind of in shock.”
“Yeah, I get it. How about this? When Valentine sets up the date for probate court, I’d like you to stay up at the house with me. I’ve got a great little ohana guest house, so you’ll have privacy. You could even bring your boyfriend if you want.”
I bit my lip.
“It’s okay; you don’t have to decide right now,” Sunny went on. “Just keep it in mind. Here’s my card. Call me if you want to talk.”
She handed me a pale lavender card that said, ‘Healing Waters Spa’ along with her name and the words Masseuse and Aesthetician.
“You’re a masseuse?” I said.
“I was. That’s how I met your dad. I’m also an aesthetician. I didn’t work on any of them myself, but three of those so-called ‘ladies’ you just met upstairs are clients at the spa.”
“Did you know I even existed before meeting me today?” I asked.
“Of course. Dying men don’t keep secrets.”
CHAPTER 9
I got in the rental car but didn’t start the engine. Instead, I sat and stared at my cell phone. I tried to call Hatch, but my hands were shaking so much it took a few tries before the call went through.
“Hey babe,” he said. “How’d it go? You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “No problem. Everything’s good.” I’m a lousy liar and Hatch picked up on it right away.
“You don’t sound fine. You sound freaked. What happened?”
“I can’t really talk about it now,” I said. I watched as people went in and came out of the Ching Young shopping center. The archway leading into the center brought up a vague memory of coming there with my mother.
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m fine. But before I come back to Poipu I’d like to drive up to Ke’e Beach for a quick look around. That’s where they held my mom’s memorial service. I want to pay my respects.”
“You sure you want to do that alone?”
“Yeah. I’m good. By the way, how was your baseball game?”
“We smoked ‘em. Nine to two.”
“Good. Where are you now? I can hardly hear you.”
“We’re at the pizza place. Say, are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I told you; I’m fine. I’ll be back in plenty of time to make our flight.”
“Okay, but give me a call me if you need me to come get you. I’m sure I could snag a ride from one of these guys. Trust me, they’d rather take me up there to get you now than have to shovel your mangled carcass into a body bag later.”
That’s what I love about Hatch. He always knows how to make me feel better.
***
The road out to Ke’e Beach was curvy and narrow, but there wasn’t much traffic. It was just after one o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. Too late for surfers and way too early for sunset-watchers. I went over a series of one-lane bridges and past gaping dry caves. But when I got to the end of the road at Ke’e Beach I was surprised to find the parking lot completely full. And, for a quarter mile, cars were parked head-to-toe alongside the road.
I pulled into a spot reserved for emergency vehicles and headed down to the beach. I wouldn’t be long. I’d heard a lot about Taylor Camp by eavesdropping on my Auntie Mana as she told stories at family gatherings. I’d looked it up on the Internet and learned the camp had been located between Limahuli Stream and what was now Ke’e Beach Park. It mentioned a trail on the mauka or inland edge of the park that led to where the camp had once been. Sure enough, I found a wide trail to the right of the park restrooms. After about a hundred yards, I had the strange sensation I was being followed. I turned in a complete circle but couldn’t see anyone. I continued down the trail. The vegetation became thick, with towering trees and low scrub blocking out the sunlight. Philodendron vines snaked up the trunks making it hard to tell where one tree stopped and another started. I came to a copse of mature trees at least fifty to sixty feet tall. Were these trees where the hippies had built their tree houses? It seemed impossible to imagine. I stood in the center of the thicket and closed my eyes and tried to still my mind. But as I breathed in the scent of ocean and rotting leaves, I once again got the sensation of someone watching. I snapped my eyes open and looked around. There were a few people far down on the beach, but no one looked my way.
I’d been barely a toddler when Taylor Camp was shut down. The tree in front of me had three huge branches that formed a crook. It would have made a great foundation for a tree house. The main platform could’ve spanned the branches and extended to nearby trees.
The hippies at Taylor Camp were tolerated by the locals, but just barely. After more than a few run-ins with the law regarding their rampant drug use, the authorities decided it was time to shut the place down. They evicted the squatters and came in and burned the camp.
When we moved from Taylor Camp my mom had a new man in her life, my brother’s father. I’d called him Uncle Ricky or Robby—something like that. But right around the time my mother died, Uncle What’s-His-Name disappeared, just like my dad. I don’t recall ever mourning his departure. I guess it was because with my mother gone my life was pretty much already in free-fall.
I walked out of the trees and out to the beach. I looked to the horizon, where I’d last seen the surfboards and canoes taking my mom’s ashes out to sea.
“Love you, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t go on that last journey with you. But I’ve never forgotten.” I put my hand over my heart like I was saying the Pledge of Allegiance. Then I felt the presence watching me again and, embarrassed, I put my hand back down.
I whispered, “Godspeed to you, Mom, wherever you are.” Then I jogged back to where I’d parked the car.
***
The drive to Poipu turned out to be easier than I’d imagined. Maybe it’s because there’s only one way to get from Hanalei to the South Shore of Kaua'i and it’s an easy, mostly-two lane road that follows the coastline. There were few distractions and little traffic. I hadn’t eaten lunch but I wasn’t hungry.
“Hey babe,” said Hatch as I came into the lobby. He got up from a comfy-looking chair and hugged me.
I looked up at him. Staring into his anxious brown eyes I felt my throat start to close up. My eyes burned.
“Let’s go to the room,” I croaked. I made it through the lobby and down the walkway before I felt a tickle on my cheek. I swiped away a tear. Then my nose started in. When I snuffed it up, Hatch dug around in his pocket and handed me a wadded-up tissue.
“It’s kinda mashed up, but it’s clean,” he said.
“Mahalo,” I said. “I must be getting a cold or something.”
We got to the room and as Hatch closed the door behind us, something inside me shattered. Hatch led me to the sofa and we sat down. He put an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, hoping to blot out the memory of the last four hours.
After
a few minutes of silence, I launched into an account of why Valentine Fabares had asked me to come to Kaua'i
“The lawyer read your dad’s will?” Hatch said. “And you say he left you some money?”
I’d soft-peddled the enormity of my inheritance. I still hadn’t decided how I felt about it, and I didn’t know how long probate might take, so the less said the better.
“Yeah. He was a businessman. Owned a company here in the islands.”
“What was his name?”
“Phillip J. Wilkerson, the Third.”
“The Third? Boy howdy, sounds like you come from some upper-crust folks.”
“Either that or my grandparents were too lazy to come up with an original name.”
“Maybe that’s why your father got so creative when he named you.”
I blew out a sigh.
“You say he lived here in Hawaii?”
“I guess so. He said he started his company in the eighties.”
“Then why didn’t he come get you after your mom died?”
Good question, but not one I cared to ponder. “From the looks of things, ditching people was something he was really good at,” I said.
“Oh?” Hatch leaned away and raised an eyebrow.
“The guy had six wives. Five exes and a widow. The widow is a thirty-year-old masseuse who took care of him while he was dying. There were so many women at the meeting I had to take notes to keep them all straight.” I grabbed my purse and pulled out the notebook. “Wife number five didn’t bother to show up. Numbers two and four seemed okay, but number one was completely full of herself and number three looked like a hooker.”
“Wow. And your dad never married your mom, right?”
“What are you getting at, Hatch?” When I was a kid, I’d always feared being called ‘the b-word.’ Now that I was a grown woman ‘the b-word’ stood for something entirely different. At least with the second ‘b-word’ I had some control over whether it was justified or not.
“Don’t get your back up,” he said. “What I mean is if they’d been married he would’ve had seven wives. Kind of a record. But maybe that’s why he included you in his will. He didn’t do right by your mom, so he wanted to do right by you.”
Kaua'i Me a River Page 6
