“You’re the tour guide,” Donovan allowed. Then turned to Kai. “Since I put myself through school working the Portland docks, I’ve always gotten my caffeine fix from coffee.”
Hell, he’d take the stuff through an IV if he could. “But you may have converted me. I like the citrusy taste of the green, but the black’s amazing.” It was a deep mahogany color that had a faint taste of caramel and something else Donovan couldn’t identify.
“The leaves are infused with dried cherry smoke while drying. It takes time, and we’ll never be able to scale it enough for mainland wholesalers to stock it, but we’re proud of what we’ve created here.”
“You should be.” He stood up and turned toward Margaret. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Breslin,” he said, taking her hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Will you come back?” Her eyes betrayed a hint of pleading.
“I will.” Donovan brushed his lips, old-style, against the back of her veined hand. “If you promise more stories. And tea. And the pie was delicious.”
She nodded happily as she fingered the lavender orchid flowers of the lei he’d brought her. “I knew you’d like the tea, and my daughter-in-law made the pie. She’ll be making more for the Christmas luau. Can I expect to see you there?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Donovan said. And realized it was true. When the topic had come up during the dinner, the only draw had been Lani. Now he realized he was looking forward to all the promised festivities. And spending more time with Lani’s family, who was the polar opposite of his own.
“You’ve a real fan in there, Kai,” he said as the tea planter accompanied them back through the floral maze to the Jeep.
“It’s mutual. How many entrepreneurs do you know who’d start a new business at her age? Especially when it takes three years before you can harvest plants grown from seed. Which she insisted on doing.”
“Tutu’s a firm believer that people die when they stop having new projects to keep them interested and alive,” Lani said.
“Thus the tea house and garden ideas,” Kai said. “We’re at blueprint time for the house now, and she’s interviewing landscape architects, so there’s no way she’s going to run out of challenges anytime soon.”
“She’s a doll, and I adore her and admire her energy, but Tutu does bounce back and forth between the past and future sometimes without warning. Maximilian Heinrich von Schiller, by the way, passed on twenty years ago. Fortunately, Kai has amazing patience.”
Kai shrugged. “I like her. A lot. Plus, I get my own house on the plantation and a salary that’s way more generous than I could’ve gotten if I’d taken the offers to teach at the university or that job growing tea for Starbucks. I’ve been doing some pretty heavy investing and should be able to retire before I’m forty. Not that I’d want to. But since there’s a lot of down time in the tea business, I also get time off for surfing. Thanks to your grandmother, my life is pretty freaking perfect.”
* * *
Lani was quiet as they drove back to the cottage. To Donovan’s surprise, she drove at less than the speed of light and seemed thoughtful. Not wanting to intrude on whatever was going through that bright and busy mind, he remained silent, content to watch the scenery.
It was incredible, he mused, now able to understand her belief in magic. Jagged mountains sloped down to gorgeous bays through valleys carpeted with sugarcane and pineapple and dappled by shafts of reflected sunlight. The narrow winding road curved through lazy, sun-drenched villages where placid Buddhas kept eternal watch in Oriental cemeteries. Wind and wave, rain and river had sculpted the tropical island into a kind of fairylike reality that was magical. Donovan almost found himself believing in the mystical powers of rainbows.
“Thank you,” she said after a time.
The sky was turning saffron and purple as Donovan dragged his attention away from the brilliant sunset. “For what?”
“For being nice to my grandmother.”
He shrugged off her appreciation. “She’s easy to be nice to. I like her. Actually, now that you bring it up, Lani, I like your entire family. A lot.”
That wasn’t supposed to be how her test turned out, Lani thought with a sinking heart. He was supposed to be shocked by her family’s individual and collective eccentricities. Appalled. He wasn’t supposed to want anything further to do with her. This new Donovan Quinn, the future FBI special agent or possible Portland Chief of Police, was turning her entire plan upside down.
“You didn’t have to lie about seeing her Marco Polo movie.”
“I didn’t.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Give me a break here, Donovan. You may be able to fool an old lady but not me.”