Chapter 16

16

I stooped to pick up the tissue box, my hands trembling slightly. It was heavier than it should be.

“Aunt Fae,” I called softly. She turned back, her sweater’s piko light blinking cheerfully.

Carefully, I opened the box. Nestled in white tissue paper lay the Queen’s Ornament, its mother-of-pearl surface catching the Christmas lights in a rainbow dance. My breath caught at its beauty and the relief flooding through me.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Aunt Fae whispered, reaching out to touch the ornament reverently. “Let’s put it where it belongs.”

Together we walked to the display board. I lifted the precious artifact and hung it on the golden hook. It settled into place as if it had never been gone, completing the story told by the photographs and documents around it.

“Perfect timing,” Aunt Fae said, squeezing my hand. “Now go be an amazing auctioneer.”

We moved the display inside and fine-tuned the setup. Guests flowed into the room from all directions. I took my place behind the clear Lucite podium and welcomed everyone from the microphone.

The evening unfolded like a gift being unwrapped. I found my stride at the podium, discovering that being an auctioneer wasn’t so different from managing a protective detail; it was all about reading the room and maintaining control while letting everyone have fun.

“Do I hear five hundred for this beautiful koa wood serving bowl? Five hundred from the gentleman in the aloha shirt. Do I hear five-fifty? Yes, the lady in red! Six hundred? Six hundred from aloha shirt . . .”

The bidding was spirited, the mood festive. Between items, I shared the story of the Queen’s Ornament, watching faces in the crowd light up with understanding as they learned its true history. When I announced its upcoming donation to Bishop Museum and that bidding on it was donation support only, spontaneous applause broke out.

By the end of the night, we’d raised a good start for the new community room. As people mingled and danced to the band’s rendition of “ Mele Kalikimaka ,” I spotted Leilani and Dr. Hale in deep conversation near the ornament display. Their heads were bent together.

Something in their manner, the way they kept glancing at the ornament with a mixture of satisfaction and relief, confirmed what I’d suspected. They’d taken it. Not to steal it, but to protect it until its true purpose could be revealed.

I considered walking over, asking them directly. But what would that accomplish? The ornament was back, its future secure.

Sometimes the best solution wasn’t about solving every mystery, but about making sure things ended up where they belonged.

“Quite a night,” Keone said, appearing at my elbow with two glasses of punch. He looked amazing in a royal blue silk aloha shirt and black dress pants, a lei of small pikake blossoms surrounding him with fragrance.

I accepted a glass of the punch, watching Leilani and Dr. Hale move away from the display. “You know what? I think everything turned out exactly as it should, even if we don’t know exactly who took the ornament.”

“Yes. The Queen’s Ornament is going home,” he said, “and the community’s stronger for it.”

We stepped outside to the dinner and dancing area around the pool. Above us, stars twinkled in the velvet sky and the scent of plumeria drifted on the breeze. The band shifted into “Silent Night,” the Hawaiian verses floating soft and clear across the pool area. Keone pulled me close, and I leaned against his shoulder, at peace with the mysteries that would remain mysteries, grateful for the ones that had been solved, and happy to be exactly where I was.

“Speaking of things finding their way home,” Keone said, setting down his punch glass on a nearby table. From his pocket, he produced a small sprig of green leaves and white berries, holding it above our heads. “Courtesy of Pua Chang, by the way. She rescued it from the post office lobby decorations when I mentioned I might need it tonight.”

“So that’s why she was smirking all afternoon,” I smiled. “I should have known.”

The kiss was sweet and passionate, too. When we parted, the world seemed to shimmer slightly in the holiday lights.

“Now then,” he said, tucking the mistletoe back in his pocket and holding out his hand. “Let’s dance.” The band had started playing “The Hawaiian Christmas Song,” the melody weaving through the warm night air. Keone pulled me onto the dance area, spinning me once before drawing me close.

As we swayed to the music, he guided me with confidence. I relaxed into his arms, letting him lead. When the song ended, he led me to a quiet spot out of the lights.

“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his other pocket. He pulled out a square velvet box, opening it to reveal a gleaming gold bangle bracelet. In Gothic black enamel lettering, the word “ Kuuipo ”—sweetheart — stood out against a surface carved with plumeria blossoms and maile leaves.

“Keone,” I breathed, touching the bracelet gently. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was my mother’s,” he said softly. “My dad gave it to her when they were young. Before he passed, she told me to save it for . . .” he paused, his eyes meeting mine with intention, “. . . for the right moment, with the right person.”

My pulse quickened as he lifted the bracelet from its box. “Consider it a promise,” he said, “of things to come.”

As he slipped the heavy gold bangle onto my wrist, I understood what he wasn’t asking yet—but would, when the time was right.

I pulled back slightly, my fingers tracing the cool raised enamel letters on the bracelet.

“Your mom is generous,” I said softly, “to part with this family treasure. I’m honored to wear it.”

“She’s already figured out what took me months to realize—that you’re the one I’ve been waiting for.” His hands tightened on my waist.

My heart did a complicated flutter: part joy, part panic.

Less than two years ago, I’d been in DC, my life ordered around protective details and security protocols. Now here I was in Hawaii, wearing a promise bracelet from a man I was in love with but . . . was I ready for more?

“Keone,” I started, then faltered. How could I explain that while I loved Keone, I was still finding my footing in this new life? The weight of this family heirloom felt as heavy as the responsibility it implied.

I was pretty sure he was the one for me.

But . . . was I the right person for him ?

Gazing at his hopeful expression, at the bracelet that his mother had entrusted to him, I couldn’t bring myself to voice my uncertainty. Instead, I touched the elegant script of “ Kuuipo ” and managed a smile. “It’s beautiful,” I said truthfully. “Thank you.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Perhaps he sensed my hesitation—but he smiled back and pulled me close. “I love you.”

The bracelet caught the Christmas lights as I wrapped my arms around his neck, its golden surface winking a question I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer.