“Tallulah’s a good girl,” Thomas said, watching the cat leave. “But stubborn. When she digs her claws in, she can give Lani a run for her money, and Lord knows, that one has been known to try a man’s patience from time to time.”
Of that, Donovan had not a single doubt. “So you think of her as another daughter?” After what Lani had told him about Thomas Breslin’s desire for two sons and two daughters, if the man was off-center enough to consider Horatio the second son he’d never had, he assumed Lani’s father would think of the huge orange cat as an equal member of the family.
“How crazy do you think we Breslin’s are?” Thomas’s face registered surprise. “While she may steadfastly refuse to admit it, Tallulah’s a cat.”
4
The art-unveiling dinner turned out to be what Lani told him was Hawaiian pink snapper, thin slices of gold potatoes, tomato, cabbage, pepper, carrots, herbs, and butter wrapped in banana leaves, then baked in a salted crust.
Using a silver hammer, Thomas cracked the crust open with a decidedly theatrical flair. As he unwrapped the banana leaves, the rich, herb-fragrant steam that escaped caused Donovan’s appetite, which had been missing in action for weeks, to spike.
“This is delicious,” he said after taking a bite from the plate put in front of him. His taste buds, which had also been on hiatus, were practically doing the tango on his tongue.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Kalena said with a warm smile.
“I definitely am.” And wasn’t that an understatement? It was all Donovan could do not to lick his plate.
“Mother’s a fabulous cook,” Lani said. “Just wait until you taste her kalua pulled pork at the Christmas luau.”
“Luau?”
“After the parade,” Thomas told him. “We roast the pig underground, with stones, right here on the beach. It’s an Orchid Island tradition you won’t want to miss.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“That would be difficult,” Lani said. “Since practically the entire island shows up for the dinner show.”
“Lani’s one of the dancers,” Kalena said.
That got Donovan’s attention. “Are you talking hula?”
“Not the tourism kind with the grass skirt and bikini top you’re thinking,” Lani said.
“I wasn’t thinking anything.” Like hell he wasn’t.
“It’s a kahiko hula,” Lani told him, with just enough of a smirk to let him know he’d been busted. “The old style with chants and drums, before it became westernized with ukes, steel guitars, and cheesy lyrics.”
“Some of the newer songs are quite nice,” Kalena said.
“True. But the kahiko is not only more authentic, it’s also, in my humble opinion, much more entertaining,” Thomas said. “They all tell a story. Mostly of local legends. You’ll enjoy it.”
“You also have to come to the parade,” Lani insisted. “Daddy, of course, is always grand marshal, given that he’s technically royalty.”
“Only because my great-grandmother married into a branch of the old Hawaiian royal family,” Thomas said with what Donovan took to be the same genuine humility that he’d recognized in Nate, even as his friend’s publishing career had taken off like a comet. “I only accepted the position because islanders keep voting to maintain tradition, but it’s not like I ever declare edicts or make laws.”
“Although I’ve never seen you turn down the opportunity to ride on that head float. And throw the year’s biggest luau,” Lani said with an indulgent smile. That she loved her family was more than apparent. That they loved her back equally so. Which had Donovan thinking of the strained call he’d be having on December twenty-fifth with his own parents.
As appealing as watching Lani doing any kind of hula would be, Donovan would prefer going skinny-dipping with sharks to attending what he suspected was going to be a noisy, crowded beach bash. But hot shot detective that he was, he’d already determined that Lani wouldn’t let him spend the day alone in Nate’s beach cottage, eating a frozen turkey dinner and watching some TV bowl game. Also, he didn’t want to risk offending Kalena and Thomas Breslin by not taking them up on their invitation.
“Sounds like fun,” he said. Right behind having a root canal.
* * *
The night gleamed silver and black velvet, as stars glistened in an ebony sky and a gentle rain drifted down from indigo clouds scudding across the moon. The intoxicating scent of plumeria, frangipani, and night-blooming jasmine floated on the warm Pacific breeze as sand sparkled like diamonds underfoot.
“I really like your family,” Donovan said as he and Lani returned down the beach after dinner.
“They like you, too.”
“Even Horatio?” The dog hadn’t left Donovan’s side the entire time he was at the house.
“Especially Horatio.”
“You were pulling my leg with that bit about him being the other son your father never had, weren’t you?”