by Janet Dailey
"You will live with Miss Harmon and her niece. Miss Harmon also wanted me to assure you that a nurse had been hired and you would not be required to do any sickroom care. Evenings and weekends you would be totally free to do as you please."
"It sounds too good to be true—a paid vacation in Hawaii in the dead of winter!" A faint laugh escaped Julie's throat as she shook her head in amazement. "Where do I sign? When do they want me?"
"Immediately."
"But my job—"
"Miss Harmon is paying a high price for your services as well as taking care of our agency's fee. Naturally she expects you to come when it's convenient for her. I have a first-class plane ticket for you here, paid for by Miss Harmon, with the reservation for the day after tomorrow. I'm to telephone her this afternoon to confirm that you've accepted her offer and will be on that plane."
"The day after tomorrow. That isn't much time," Julie murmured, thinking of all the washing and packing she had to do, not to mention informing the restaurant and school that she was quitting without notice.
"What's your answer?"
"What else can I say?" Her shoulders lifted in an expressive shrug. "Yes. Tell Miss Harmon, yes."
A few minutes later, she rose to leave, with the address of her new, if temporary, place of residence in Hawaii, an unpronounceable town on the island of Oahu. She still felt a bit dazed by her good fortune.
Mrs. Grayson rose to see her out. "Send us a postcard to let us know how you're getting along, Julie."
"I will," she promised.
"Aloha. I believe it means 'goodbye' and also 'good luck'."
"Thank you. Aloha," Julie returned the Hawaiian greeting and a smile curved the full width of her mouth.
Outside, she succeeded in flagging down a taxi for the ride back to her apartment. Bundled up in her winter parka, a wool scarf around her throat, she gazed out of the window at the bleak, gray skies and snow-packed streets. In two more days she would be looking at palm trees and sandy beaches. It seemed impossible.
Mrs. Kelly was at the door to meet her when she arrived. "Did you get the job?"
"Yes." Her head bobbed in an eager response. Julie pulled off her mittens; she was bursting with the news. "Mrs. Kelly, it's in Hawaii!"
The bright blue eyes widened expressively. "Hawaii!"
"Yes, can you believe it? I have to leave the day after tomorrow." The information was barely out when Julie realized, "That's hardly enough notice for you to find someone to rent my apartment, but I'll pay you a month's rent." All the things she had to do and all the arrangements she had to make began crowding into her mind. "I won't be able to take all my things in the apartment. I'll need a place to store them. Would you have room somewhere? It would probably be just a couple of boxes."
"Of course I have room. I have the whole downstairs," the landlady declared.
"I'll gladly pay you for keeping them," Julie assured her quickly.
"Gracious, no! I've always dreamed of going to Hawaii. If you'd send me some postcards and maybe some little souvenir, that would be payment enough. Remember Dorothy Lamour in her sarong, dancing the hula?" Mrs. Kelly waved her arms out to the side and attempted to make her hips sway in the native dance.
"I'll send you dozens of postcards," Julie promised as she shrugged out of her heavy coat. "Oh, before I forget, I have the address where I'll be living so you can forward my mail to me."
"Let me write it down." The landlady took the slip of paper Julie had retrieved from her purse and walked into the living room. "Will you be moving to Hawaii permanently?"
"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it." Not until this moment. Perhaps if she succeeded in impressing this Miss Harmon with her competency as a teacher, the woman would recommend her for a position in the local school system. Miss Harmon seemed to be a woman of apparent wealth, and probably influence.
"Since you have a job there, I would certainly live there for a while if I were you," Mrs. Kelly stated, bending over a pad and copying the address.
"The job is only temporary. I'm tutoring a young girl who's been injured in an automobile accident," Julie clarified her position.
"Oh, you're going to be a governess." The landlady straightened.
"Not exactly. The girl will be returning to school as soon as she's able. I'll be following the curriculum set by the school she regularly attends, so it isn't quite the same," Julie explained. "And since the job isn't permanent, I don't know if I'll be staying on there. It will depend on whether or not I can find another position."
"You're an intelligent and attractive young woman. I'm sure you'll find something." Mrs. Kelly returned the original slip of paper with the address on it to Julie.
"I hope so. But right now, I have to start getting organized. I have to call the school and Joe at the restaurant."
"Don't forget to call your parents."
"Yes, I'll do that tonight when both of them will be home. Don't let me forget, Mrs. Kelly," she added.
"I won't," the woman promised.
"I'll need some boxes for all my dishes and linen." Julie began listing the things she had to do. "I'll have to pack my clothes and put away all my heavy winter things—I won't be needing them in Hawaii. Heavens, I have clothes to wash!" A whole basketful, she remembered.
"You bring your dirty clothes downstairs to me. I'll wash them for you," Mrs. Kelly offered.
"Would you? You are a darling, Mrs. Kelly. I'm going to miss you." Julie gave the diminutive female a quick hug. "I'll bring the clothes down right now."
With her purse and heavy parka clutched in her arms, she took the steps two at a time to the second floor. Below she could hear Mrs. Kelly singing some old melody and caught the words "heavenly flower." Julie knew she would be much too busy in the next thirty-six hours to do much singing, but Mrs. Kelly was doing it for her. There were such a staggering number of things to accomplish before she left.
Chapter Two
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, we are making our descent for Honolulu International Airport." The pilot's voice came over the intercom. "The weather in Honolulu is seventy-two degrees, overcast skies, with occasional light showers. Despite the inclement conditions, those of you on the right side of the aircraft should have an excellent view of Diamondhead and the Waikiki beach when we break through the clouds."
In her right window seat, Julie leaned closer to the curved glass. The sleek jumbo jet was engulfed in a cloud, a gray white world outside its windows. Although she was exhausted from the frantic schedule of the past forty-eight hours, including more than eight hours of flying, Julie was determined not to miss her first glimpse of the island of Oahu.
The cloud dissipated into wispy trails and then nothing. Etched against the oyster-gray backdrop of the overcast was the familiar bulk of Diamondhead jutting into the sea. Directly below, the Pacific Ocean churned up whitecaps, sending rows of foaming white to the shore. A jungle of building blocks rose behind the pale strip of beach—the mass of skyscraper hotels and offices portraying a city in miniature. Houses climbed the slopes of the mountains behind the beach as the city of Honolulu seemed to tumble over itself in search of room. It was a city much larger than Julie had expected.
The No Smoking sign flashed on and a stewardess announced that they were making their final approach for landing. Julie leaned back in her seat and refastened her belt. A curious anticipation of what was before her chased away the tiredness, not just for the job, but for the people and the place. The aircraft wheels seemed to thud onto the runway and seconds later the powerful thrust of the jet engines reversed itself. The plane slowed to taxi to the terminal.
Having a first-class ticket gave Julie the advantage of being one of the first to leave the aircraft. She emerged from the long tunnel of the jetway into a glassed boarding concourse. The instructions from Mrs. Grayson had said she would be met at the airport, but they hadn't included the information of where and by whom? Julie took a deep breath and walked forward, unconsciously scanning the small group
of people waiting at the gate, as if she would recognize someone.
"Miss Julie Lancaster! Miss Julie Lancaster!"
She heard her name being paged by a male voice in the group. Other names and tour groups were being called, and it took her a minute to identify who was seeking her. The voice belonged to a Hawaiian man who looked like he was in his late thirties, of medium height with a waistline that had begun to thicken. His hair was as jet black as his eyes.
"I'm Julie Lancaster," she told him.
The friendly smile that enveloped his face was easy to return. "Aloha, Miss Lancaster." He took the lei he held and placed it around her neck. In the same motion he lightly kissed her cheek. "Welcome to Hawaii."
Like his smile, the kiss on her cheek had been totally friendly. Julie wondered if this was an example of the "aloha" spirit that she had heard came so naturally to the islanders. She touched a finger to the pale yellow petal of one of the tubular flowers strung one after another into the lei. The blossoms' spicy fragrance reminded her of ginger. She guessed that that was what the flowers were.
"Thank you." She meant the words sincerely.
"In Hawaii, we say mahalo," the man smiled again, warmth and gentleness radiating from his face.
"Mahalo," Julie repeated.
"You're welcome." The dark head bobbed in acceptance of her gratitude. "This way, please. Miss Emily is waiting for you over here."
Miss Emily? Julie supposed he meant her employer Miss Harmon and followed him. Standing to one side of an exit was a fairly tall and very erect woman. A naturally colored straw hat was on her head, the white band around the crown almost matching the woman's hair. She wore a navy blue suit, the skirt covering her knees and sensible navy blue shoes. The cotton blouse beneath the navy blue suit jacket was buttoned all the way to the throat. Julie gained the overall impression of someone starched and prim. She didn't feel nervous about meeting her employer, only curious.
"Miss Lancaster, I'm Emily Harmon." The older woman greeted her with a smile that, while it wasn't as all encompassing as the man's had been, was friendly.
"How do you do, Miss Harmon." This time Julie was greeted with the more traditional firm handshake. "And thank you for the lei. It's lovely."
"We couldn't overlook the Hawaiian custom of greeting malihinis."
"Newcomers, tourists," the man defined the term.
"Dan has the car waiting outside," Emily Harmon announced. "Dan is actually our mechanic. He only doubles as a chauffeur when I have to come into Honolulu. I can't stand the traffic and the congestion."
Julie found herself being escorted out the exit door. "My luggage," she offered in faint protest, aware of the stream of passengers heading for the baggage area.
"Give your claim tickets to Dan. He'll collect your luggage for you," the woman commanded, and Julie obeyed. A silver-gray Mercedes was parked not far from the door. As they walked toward it, the woman issued another order. "Breathe in. Tell me what you smell."
Julie did as she was told again. There was an elusive quality to the air she breathed, something soft and gentle, but she couldn't identify it. The alert blue eyes of Emily Harmon read her expression.
"It's clean air," she explained. "It's been washed by thousands of miles of ocean, kept cool by the water while acquiring the softness of rain. That first breath will be indelibly etched on your memory."
Julie's lips parted in astonishment that the explanation could be as simple as clean air. "It's wonderful!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, isn't it?" Emily Harmon returned, a trifle smugly. Dan held the rear door of the Mercedes open for them. Julie climbed in first, sliding to the far side behind the driver. When Emily Harmon was safely inside, Dan closed the door. "He's going to drive around to the baggage claim area," Emily explained as if to reassure Julie that they weren't leaving without her luggage.
"Of course," she nodded.
"Were you able to see Honolulu and Waikiki when you landed?" the older woman questioned.
Yes, I did, and Diamondhead, too."
"What did you think?" It wasn't an idle question; Emily Harmon was interested in her reaction. Dan was behind the wheel; the engine purred into action.
"It's a much larger city than I imagined, and there were a lot more skyscrapers than I thought there would be," Julie admitted.
"My family once had a beach house on Waikiki. That was when the only hotel was the Royal Hawaiian. It's difficult to believe, isn't it? Of course, that was long before the war. Now there are so many hotels all up and down the beach that the Royal Hawaiian is practically lost in their shadows. Ruel says it's progress."
"I suppose so." Julie wondered who Ruel was. It was an unusual name. But she didn't have a chance to ask as her employer continued.
"You'd be surprised at how many tourists come here, stay on Waikiki for a week and believe they've seen Hawaii. They go home with their Hawaiian shirts and a crate of pineapples and become an instant authority on Hawaii." She paused for a considering moment. "When Captain Cook landed here, he called the chain the Sandwich Isles after his sponsor the Earl of Sandwich. Did you know that?"
"No," Julie admitted.
"Then the whalers came and the missionaries. When I see those people on the beach wearing those ridiculous pieces of cloth called bikinis, I find it difficult to believe that my forebears taught the Hawaiians to put on clothes." The woman's biting wit reached out to charm Julie, grooving a smile in the corners of her mouth.
The car rolled to a quiet stop in front of the baggage area and Dan stepped out. "Don't be too long in there, Dan," Emily Harmon admonished. "I don't want to arrive home too much after dark."
"Yes, Miss Emily."
With the instruction given, the woman returned her attention to Julie. "You have an unusual accent, Julie. May I call you Julie?"
It was a question that demanded an answer. "Please do," she gave permission.
"What part of New England are you from? My ancestors came from New England. They were among the early missionaries here."
Looking at the proper and fastidious Emily Harmon, Julie found it easy to believe that. "Actually, I'm not from New England. I was born and raised in California, although I attended college in Boston."
"Oh." There was a wealth of meaning in the simple word. Julie was positive she had just fallen several notches in Emily Harmon's esteem. "I was under the impression you were New England born."
"I'm sorry, no. Does it matter?" Julie couldn't resist asking.
"No, not really, I suppose," the woman sighed regretfully. "It's just that New England people tend to be more reserved and controlled, less exuberant if you will. I felt Deborah needed someone of that type just now."
"Deborah is your niece?"
"Yes, she's such an active, outgoing person that her confinement during recovery is going to be a problem. I had hoped for someone who would project a calming influence." Emily Harmon looked thoughtful. "Perhaps, though, your youthfulness will provide her with some companionship."
"How old is she?" asked Julie.
"Sixteen. She'll be seventeen in March. How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
"So young!"
Julie dropped another notch in the woman's estimation. "I graduated from high school when I was only seventeen," she explained.
"You do seem mature and levelheaded."
Julie was positive that Emily Harmon had mentally tacked on the qualification—even if you are from California. She swallowed the smile that was teasing her mouth and decided to shift the subject.
"I know Deborah was in an automobile accident. How badly injured was she?"
"We expect a full recovery, no permanent injuries. She's in a body cast—for a broken pelvis, among other things. I won't bore you with the gory details. As I told your Mrs. Grayson, we have a nurse staying with us, and she'll see to all of Deborah's physical needs. Ah, here's Dan with your luggage." She spied the stout Hawaiian approaching the Mercedes. "We'll soon be home."
"How far
do you live from here?" Julie asked.
"It's about an hour's drive. We live near the north shore, one of the last bastions on Oahu against 'progress.'" There was disdain in the sweeping look Emily Harmon gave the buses and taxis and automobiles zipping in and out of the terminal complex.
When Julie's luggage was stowed in the trunk of the car, Dan slid behind the wheel and drove the sleek car off the airport grounds into the mainstream of traffic. Within minutes he entered a modern freeway system, complete with bumper-to-bumper traffic three lanes wide. The skies were still overcast and were darkening to slate with the approach of a hidden sunset.
"I've made an appointment for you to meet Deborah's teacher late tomorrow afternoon after classes," Emily told her. "After traveling all day today and adjusting to the time zone change, I know you'll need to sleep late in the morning."
"That's thoughtful of you," Julie acknowledged. "I am tired, but I'm sure a good night's rest will be all I need." She hesitated. "I was wondering about Deborah's parents. I had the impression from Mrs. Grayson that they'd died."
Emily leaned forward and tapped Dan on the shoulder. "You're speeding!"
The car slowed perceptibly under her reprimand and Emily Harmon watched until she saw the speedometer register the legal limit before she sat back in her seat. Julie's glance caught Dan's gaze in the rearview mirror and he winked. The gesture seemed to say that he and Emily Harmon were constantly at odds over the pace he drove.
"About Deborah's parents," the woman returned to the question Julie had asked, "they were both lost at sea when she was five. They'd gone sailing, when there was a sudden squall. The coastguard found the wreckage of their boat on a reef a couple of days later."
The tight line of the woman's mouth indicated that she found the subject painful even after all this time. Julie decided against pursuing it any farther. She began studying the road signs and was confronted with a mass of unpronounceable words—Wàipahu, Aiea, Wahiawa, Wailua, Haleiwa, Waianae. Her tongue couldn't seem to roll over all those vowels.
