Page 54 of Café Diablo

“They moved to the big island six years ago,” Olivia explains. “And clearly—”

“You abandon your parents, we abandon you!” Grandma sasses, turning to Olivia. “You ever leave this island and you’ll get the same. And you—” Suddenly, Grandma’s pointing finger is waging at me again. “If you take her away from me—to the mainland or another island—I’ll have you skinned and fed to the pigs!”

After my tour of the property, I’ve learned there aren’t actually any animals on their estate, just plants, so I think it’s an empty threat. But, from the way she’s glaring at me, that might be a foolhardy bet.

“Momma and Papa are only a plane ride away,” Olivia says, defending her parent’s exodus. “And they fly over here to visit you on every holiday. You’ve hardly been abandoned, Nanna.”

“I don’t like oceans between me and my blood,” she says in defense. “You hear that,” she keeps pointing in my direction. “This is my only granddaughter. No oceans!”

“I live in Honolulu,” I assure her.

“Pretty white-boy like you might have other intentions!” Grandma shoots back.

“You mean, like boom-boom intentions?” I ask, making Olivia and her grandfather burst into laughter, whereas Grandma gives me—and my two co-conspirators—the glare of death.

“I’ll have you digging a pig trough yet,” she sasses.

“Man, I can’t imagine why my parents moved off the island?” Olivia says sarcastically, pinching me in the side to say that was very well played.

Grandma’s eyes narrow at us and I think she’s about to launch into another tirade, when Grandpa puts his hand over hers and she seems to relax.

“Stop picking on Olivia and her friend,” he says gently, his voice a calm wind that seems to smooth all of her disgruntled edges. “You’ve had your fun,” he continues. “None of us want to see Olivia move away, we love her too much. But it is also not our place to interfere with her choices.”

“What more could she possibly want?” Grandma lets out, pointing to the palm trees and the mountains in the distance.

“Well,” Grandpa says calmly, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I doubt we can help her in the boom-boom department.” Olivia almost spits out her rice. Grandpa says that with such a calmness and even keel, it simply seems like a truism, but a smile hitches his lip as he looks at his granddaughter, as if to say he’s got her back when Grandma goes off the deep end.

“Aaaand on a completely different subject,” Olivia says loudly, her neck and chest a brilliant pink. I drop my hand to her thigh under the table, my fingers running the edge of her jean skirt and teasing her skin. It’s really unfair of me because her whole face turns scarlet. “Can—um,” she coughs, trying to ignore my boom-boom fingers, “Poppy, I was hoping I could borrow your truck after dinner.”

Grandpa looks at her, surprised, before turning toward the back driveway where an old beat-up clunker of a truck is parked. The state of the truck is enough to explain his reaction, the thing is rusted brown and looks like it’s covered in fifty pounds of mud. You probably need a tetanus shot before you go near it.

“I’m not sure she still runs,” Grandpa says honestly, but Olivia shakes her head.

“I drove it last week,” Olivia explains. “Yes, the truck coughs and sputters like she’s got lung cancer, but nothing’s going to get me down to the cove but that beauty.”

“Mmmm,” Grandpa nods, like she’s made a good point.

“Fancy lawyer man doesn’t have four-wheel drive?” Grandma asks, pointing at me, and Olivia shakes her head.

“Neither Edwin’s car, nor my moped, can get out of those quicksand traps of mud. The only beast I trust is that hunk of seemingly unreliable rust over there, but believe me, she’s never let me down before.”

“What are these quicksand traps you speak of?” I ask. “What exactly are we talking about?”

Olivia turns to me and smiles. “It’s the whole reason I wanted you to come here, so you can see the cove.”

“The cove?”

“Best hidden beach on all of the island!”

“But there’s a quagmire of mud and quicksand to get there?” I ask, pointing to the truck and its external paint job of mud.

“Yup,” she nods. “That’s half the fun!”

23

Ned

Splash!

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