“While you were walking on the beach, I got a text from my grandmother,” Lani said. “She’s sorry she missed dinner last night and wants to see you.”
He glanced down at his rain-rumpled clothing. “I’m not sure I’m properly dressed to visit island royalty.”
He’d learned the story of how a Breslin woman several generations back had married a distant cousin of the former queen of Hawaii. Which, since Orchid Island had managed to remain independent of the other islands during their civil war, essentially made Lani and Nate’s father the king of Orchid Island and Lani’s grandmother the queen mother.
Lani glanced over at him. “No problem.” She turned the key to start the Jeep’s engine. “We can stop on the way.”
8
After a stop at the island clothing store, which involved a great deal of compromise (mostly on Donovan’s part, he felt), he left wearing a dark blue polo shirt with a magenta tribal design across his chest, khaki board shorts, and mesh canvas Vans. Having finally been declared suitably attired, ten minutes later he was following Lani through a winding maze of overgrown hibiscus bushes toward a house that was an oddly eclectic mishmash of architectural styles.
Although he’d met Lani and Nate’s grandmother when he’d originally visited several years ago, he’d never been to her home. Constructed of red brick, it might have been New England in feeling had there not been huge white marble columns out front, and a wide porch, which gave it an antebellum air. A series of Victorian cupolas rose from a Spanish tile roof. It was as if the house had changed hands several times in the construction process, each new owner adding his own imprint, rather than scrapping previous plans and starting fresh.
They were led into a screened solarium, filled to abundance with tropical plants. The atmosphere in the room was humid enough, Donovan was certain, to grow mushrooms through the bleached plank flooring. His head was swimming with the sweet scent of the vivid hothouse flowers when his attention was drawn past a towering banana plant to a ninety-something woman seated regally in a bamboo peacock throne chair.
Despite the sweltering heat, she was bundled in a shawl of soft wool. Antique gold rings adorned every finger, and the woman’s wispy hair, which had once been an almost blue-black, was now a bright shade of purple, contrasting with her pink scalp into a pastel tapestry.
The entire scene evoked some long-past era. However, the vast assortment of electronic equipment—state-of-the-art cameras, night vision goggles, satellite dishes, high-powered telescopes, a computer console that looked capable of launching nuclear weapons, and two drones sitting on a counter—could have come straight from the Department of Homeland Security.
“I don’t think I’m in Kansas any longer,” Donovan murmured.
“Speak up, young man.” The woman’s voice rang out.
“I was just commenting on your equipment.”
“Isn’t it nice? I used to have to order from Spy Store catalogs. Now, thanks to the Internet, I can keep up to date with whatever’s new on the market.”
The woman’s eyes turned to Lani. “It’s about time you brought a man home,” she said, holding out her arms.
Lani knelt beside the chair, giving the woman a hug as she pressed a light kiss against her weathered cheek. “You know I always do what you tell me to, Tutu,” she said, using the Hawaiian word for grandmother.
Margaret Breslin snorted. “Ha. If only that were true. You’re like your brother. Both of you have minds of your own.” The old woman’s gaze returned to Donovan. “You’re that policeman friend of Nate’s. It’s good to see you again. Even if you are too skinny.”
“We’re working on that,” Lani said.
“I should hope so. You should do something about that limp, as well.” She turned her attention back to Donovan. “I slipped and hurt my hip a few months ago. Lani has the most amazing massage that will fix you right up.”
“I’m sorry about your hip,” Donovan said.
“So was I. More because it was such a damn stereotypical old lady thing to do. If it weren’t for Lani, I’d probably be stuck in that wheelchair the doctor tried to keep me in.
“Nate told us all about your adventures when he was here with his darling Tess for Thanksgiving,” she said, segueing into a different topic. “I’m not at all surprised you’re looking overworked. A terrible thing, what happened to Tess. And gracious, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for those poor people in the Pacific Northwest living with that serial killer among them. I’d never leave my house.”
“You barely do now,” Lani murmured beneath her breath, but Donovan heard it just the same.