Chapter 2

2

The bell above the door of Ohia General Store jingled merrily as I stepped inside midmorning of the next day, my arms laden with a box of donated items for the auction. The familiar scent of coffee and spices mingled with the sweet aroma of the fresh pineapple laid out on the store’s counter for customers to sample. Cluttered and dim, the store carried a little bit of anything and everything residents living in this remote location and tourists passing through might need.

I loved this quirky little store . . . and its owners—even more.

“Aloha, Kat!” Opal called from behind the counter, her white hair glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Today she wore a green, glittery scarf pinned with a flashing Christmas tree. “Here for a coffee?”

“Yes, please.” I set my loaded box on the counter. “Aunt Fae’s got me running all over town picking up donations. I’m starting to feel like Santa’s most overworked elf.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Opal came around to the enormous pot and filled a paper to-go cup.

Artie, Opal’s husband, emerged from the back room, his weathered face creasing into a smile. “Hey, Kitty Kat.” He carried a tray of the couple’s famous coffeecake and weekend malasadas from Komoda Bakery in Makawao. I was still amazed by how well Artie navigated his world without sight. “At least Fae isn’t making you wear green tights and pointy shoes.”

“Don’t give Aunt Fae any ideas,” I groaned. “So, I know you both heard the call for donations. Got any treasures for the event today?”

Opal handed me the paper cup of coffee and took the tray of treats from her husband. She set it beside the enormous coffee machine. “Oh, we’ve got something special for you. Artie, bring out the box.”

I noticed the excitement in Opal’s voice. Whatever this item was, it was more than just another tchotchke; that was a good thing because I already had a box full of stuffed reindeer, Nativity scenes, menorahs, glass snow globes and other holiday knickknacks.

Artie disappeared into the back again, where the couple’s residence was attached to the store. He quickly returned, carrying a small, intricately carved wooden box. He placed it on the counter with the reverence reserved for priceless artifacts.

“This,” Opal said, her voice hushed, “has been in Artie’s family for generations. It’s a very special ornament with a connection to Hawaiian history.”

Artie nodded solemnly. “My great-grandfather received it as a gift from Queen Lili?uokalani herself.”

My eyes widened. “The last monarch of the Hawaiian Kingdom? That Queen Lili?uokalani?”

“The very same,” Artie confirmed. “It was a thank-you for my great-grandsire’s service to the royal family.”

“Can I look?”

“Please.”

I carefully opened the wooden box. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft kapa cloth, was a beautiful ornament. The large oval was made of what looked like mother-of-pearl, and was intricately carved with waves, heart-shaped leaves, and the royal crest of Hawaii. A filigreed gold ring was attached to the top with a loop for hanging.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, carefully lifting the carving from the box. The ornament caught the light, shimmering with an iridescent glow.

“We call this the Queen’s Ornament,” Artie said proudly.

“But . . . are you sure you want to donate this to the auction? It’s a family heirloom.”

Opal and Artie clasped hands. “We’ve talked about it,” Opal said. “We don’t have any children to pass it on to, and we’d rather see this treasure go to a good cause than sit in a box forever. We’ll enjoy the community center often, and we both love the idea of helping it come to pass.”

My throat tightened and I had to clear it to speak. “That’s incredibly generous of you. I’m sure it’ll raise a lot of funds.”

As I carefully set the ornament back in its cloth and placed it back in the box, the bell above the door jingled again. I glanced up to see Ilima Kaihale enter, statuesque in a green and red muumuu , her arms full of colorful crocheted and quilted lei.

“Kat, I thought I might find you here. I brought some leis for the auction . . . oh my, is that what I think it is?” Her gaze had landed on the ornament box, and a look of recognition crossed her face. “The Queen’s Ornament!”

“It’s time for it to find a new home,” Artie said.

“You know about this antique?” I asked, surprised.

Ilima nodded, her expression reverent. “Oh yes, it’s quite famous in certain circles. Artie, it’s so great that you want to donate it. May I?”

At Artie’s nod, Ilima unceremoniously piled her crafted lei into my box of donations. She lifted the ornament, turning it gently in her hands. “This ornament is more than just a beautiful piece of art. It’s a piece of our history, full of symbolism.”

Ilima explained the significance of each shape carved into the ornament. The waves represented the ocean that brought the first Hawaiians to these islands. The kalo leaves symbolized the land’s abundance. And the royal crest was a reminder of Hawaii’s proud heritage.

“You see, Kat,” Ilima said, “in Hawaiian culture, we don’t just value things for their monetary worth. Each object, especially one like this, carries mana —spiritual power and meaning. This ornament is a connection to our past, a reminder of who we are and where we come from.”

Deep appreciation welled within me. Since moving to Maui, I’d learned a lot about the culture, but moments like this made me realize how much more there was to understand and respect.

“Thank you,” I said to Ilima, Opal, and Artie. “For sharing this treasure with me—with our town. For trusting me with this precious gift that will benefit everyone in Ohia. I promise I’ll make sure it’s treated with the respect it deserves at the auction.”

Ilima smiled, carefully placing the ornament back in its box. “I know you will, Kat. You may not have been born here, but you’ve embraced our ways with an open and teachable heart. That matters.”

I arrived at the rec room in New Ohia with my box of goodies containing the special ornament in my car. Left over from when the newly minted state park had been a development for the rich, the large, bare space had originally been a gym. Empty of equipment, it was now lined with folding tables. Several of those were already piled high with donated items.

“Where do you want these things, Aunty?” I asked Aunt Fae, who was conferring with Elle over a clipboard at one end of the room. Aunty abandoned the clipboard to intercept me.

“Change of plans. We’re taking all these donations over to Rita Farnsworth’s place. She’s offered to store everything in her garage until the auction. It’ll be more secure there, plus free up this room to be decorated and organized before the event.”

“Rita Farnsworth? The cat lady?”

Aunty chuckled. “That’s the one. Though she prefers ‘feline welfare advocate.’”

Keone soon arrived with his truck to help us move the donated items. As we loaded up Keone’s green Tacoma with boxes of donated items, I was excited to see how Maile Ortiz was doing. Rita not only helped cats in need of shelter, but she’d taken in a little girl in need of a home, and I hadn’t seen them in a while.

The drive to Rita’s house was several miles along the coast to the town of Hana’s lush streets. Rita’s place was on the edge of town, butted up against one of the Hana Ranch pastures.

As we pulled up at her comfortable place, I was struck by the cheerful chaos of a place that once had a sad, lonely air. Now the front yard was a riot of colorful flowers and sported a trampoline. Cat-shaped wind chimes tinkled in the breeze, hanging from every available spot.

Rita emerged from the house as we pulled up, a smile brightening her face. Per usual, she wore beige linen everything—but this time, a sparkling necklace of red-and-green crystals brightened up her outfit. “Kat and Keone! Your aunty told me you were on the way. Bring those boxes right into the garage. I have space cleared for them.” Rita opened a side door and disappeared; a moment later the rolling-style door of her garage rumbled open, revealing an empty area next to her parked car.

As we carried in our first boxes, a slight figure darted out from the house, her brown eyes wide with curiosity. The slender girl gave a shy wave. “Hi.”

“Hi Maile!” I called. “Nice to see you again. Remember me? I’m Kat.”

“I remember you. And Keone.” Maile smiled. “I can help.”

“Oh, Maile, I’m sure they’d appreciate that,” Rita said. “We can fill up this whole side of the garage with all the donations.”

My heart cockles warmed as Maile hurried to the truck bed to grab a box. Maile had been rescued from a bad foster situation and found a new home with Rita, who’d lost a daughter. It was good to see both of them looking happy and settled.

As we carried boxes and bags and piled them on a foldable table Rita set up for us, Maile helped, peppering us with questions about the auction items. Her eyes went wide when she saw the ornament box.

“What’s in there?” she asked, pointing. “It looks fancy.”

I shared a look with Keone before carefully opening the box to show her. “It’s a very special Christmas ornament. It used to belong to a Hawaiian queen.”

Maile’s eyes, if possible, got even wider. “A real queen? Like in stories?”

Keone squatted beside Maile. “That’s right. Queen Lili?uokalani. Would you like to hear about her and her gift to Artie Pahinui? He has donated this very special ornament to us to sell to raise money for the community center.”

As Keone told Maile about the last monarch of Hawaii and the meaning of the ornament, I helped Rita arrange the donations in the garage.

Through the open door into the backyard, I could see the enormous cat shelter Rita had. A series of cozy looking platform structures were built around a tree inside a huge cage. Cats of all colors and types lounged about in the sunshine.

“The cats look so happy, Rita,” I said, gesturing to the shelter. “You’ve done so much for them.”

Rita beamed. “They’re family for the time we have them. Like Maile has become.” Her voice softened. “That little girl has been through so much, but she’s got a generous heart. She helps me with the cats every day, and I think they help us, too.”

As if on cue, a fluffy orange tabby kitten sauntered into the garage, winding itself around Maile’s legs. The girl scooped up the kitten. “This is Lilikoi,” she announced proudly. “He’s my best friend.”

“Well, Lilikoi is very lucky to have you,” Keone said. “Will he let me pet him?”

“Sure.” She held out the tabby.

Yeah, my heart did another one of those flips at the sight of handsome Mr. K snuggling with the kitten and laughing with a little girl.

He’d make a wonderful father someday.

The thought brought an odd hollow feeling to my stomach. Would I ever have kids of my own? After being suddenly orphaned and overcoming a debilitating touchphobia, Keone was my first real relationship that had lasted more than a few months.

“I better not jinx it by even wishing for more,” I muttered to myself.

As we finished arranging the items, Rita told Maile to take Lilikoi back to his friends in the cat house. The two of them went into the backyard.

“It’s good to see her so happy,” Keone said, coming to stand beside me. “After everything that happened . . .”

I nodded, remembering the harrowing details of Maile’s situation. “She’s resilient. And she’s got a great foster mom in Rita.”

We prepared to leave, and Maile insisted on giving each of us a plumeria from Rita’s garden as a thank-you.

Keone tucked his plumeria behind his left ear playfully. He pointed it out to Maile. “Flower on the right means available. Flower on the left means taken. And I’m taken, by this beautiful woman right here.”

“Oh, my friend Windy Nakasone will be sad. She told me she wants to marry you when she grows up,” Maile said.

My eyes widened; Windy was a handful who’d had it in for me ever since Mr. K and I started dating. She and her sister Sandy had mellowed since a couple of Tiki’s kittens came into their lives, but I was always braced for insults when the two girls came to the post office for their mail.

Keone slung an arm around me. “Tell Windy not to worry. She’ll meet someone special her own age when the time is right,” he told Maile.

Maile frowned, looking doubtful. “Okay. You’ll come back soon, right?” she asked.

“Of course,” I promised.

Maile and Rita waved goodbye from the driveway.

As we drove off, the scent of plumeria filling the truck, I reflected. This was what the auction was really about: not just raising money, but bringing the community together, honoring history, and building a better future for people like Maile and Rita—and the Nakasone girls, too, even if one of them had her eye on my boyfriend.