Page 3 of Changing Tides

I raise my glass and clink it against hers. “Cheers.”

We land at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport and disembark. After claiming our baggage, we are greeted by a couple from the car service Conrad hired, receiving one of the warmest welcomes I’ve ever encountered. The two are waiting with a sign that readsMr. Sullivan and Miss Carrigan.

I inform them that Conrad was unable to make the trip and introduce them to Amiya.

“Aloha! I am Kiana, and this is my husband, Makoa. We are happy to welcome you to our island,” Kiana says as she presents us with colorful necklaces full of blooms, which she places around each of our necks. “This is a fresh flower lei, which is a Hawaiian symbol of aloha, welcome, and love,” she explains.

I inhale the fragrance of the beautiful flowers and smile. “Thank you.”

Makoa takes our bags and loads them into the back of the car, and then they whisk us away to the private luxury resort.

When we walk through the sliding glass doors, a hotel employee presents us with a tray filled with pink cocktails in fancy glass flutes.

“Aloha,” she says as she smiles brightly.

“Aloha to you too,” Amiya says as she takes two of the offered glasses.

She follows me as I make my way to the reception desk to check us in.

“Aloha, Miss Carrigan, and welcome to The Stanhope Grand Resort. We have you booked in one of our seaside bungalows for seven nights,” the front-desk attendant states.

“That’s correct.”

“Excellent. I have a key card for you in addition to your mobile access. Please allow Nalani to guide you to your home away from home. A member of our staff will deliver your luggage to you shortly.”

She hands me the card, and Amiya and I accompany the young lady who explains the layout of the resort as she walks us down a lit path to the breathtaking bungalow. It has a wall that opens to the beach, allowing us to sleep while exposed to the Pacific breeze and the sound of the crashing waves.

“Wow,” Amiya says as we make our way onto the teak deck that leads to the large king-size bed with rose petals sprinkled on top.

A bottle of champagne is chilling in a silver bucket on a tray by the pillows.

She turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “So romantic.”

I laugh. “Right?”

Nalani gives us a brief tour of the bungalow and explains how all the gadgets work. There is a remote that lowers the wall and draws the shades and a telephone that can reach our butler directly.

There is an outdoor shower on the deck and a small sauna room off the bath.

“This place is amazing. I might never want to leave,” Amiya declares as she plops onto the bed and lies back.

“If only we were independently wealthy,” I quip.

Before excusing herself, Nalani informs us that Wednesday’s luau begins at six and we can follow the signage on the footpath to the left of our deck to find it.

“What is a luau exactly?” Amiya asks.

“It’s a celebration where we feast and drink on the bountiful offerings of the unique crops from this tropical paradise. It is a cuisine you won’t find anywhere else in the world. There will be music and dancing, joy and laughter in abundance,” she tells us.

“We look forward to it,” I declare.

A young boy arrives with our bags ten minutes later. Amiya tips him generously, and he beams as he runs off back to the resort.

We quickly unpack and change into our bikinis before calling the butler, Pika, to arrange our afternoon of sunbathing on the pristine Waikiki Beach, which is steps from our terrace.

When we arrive, our umbrella-covered loungers are prepared just out of reach of the flowing shoreline. Two luxurious, large towels are folded on each one, and sitting atop a table between the two is a plate of fruits and cheeses, along with two cocktails served in coconut shells, adorned with small paper umbrellas.

Pika greets us and asks if there is anything else we need.

---