“Hal’s pushing this land-use thing through today,” he had said earlier over coffee. “It’s a quiet legal meeting at the courthouse, just procedural stuff. Some locals might show up, but it’s mostly paperwork.”
A short time after Cal left, Nakoa pulled into our driveway in Tutu’s clunky old car, looking unusually formal behind the wheel. Kimo sat stiffly in the passenger seat, tugging unhappily at a tie he’d obviously been forced to wear, while Leilani and Tutu sat in the back. Tutu was wearing one of her “serious dresses”—the kind with shoulder pads and a brooch shaped like an endangered bird.
“We have a few things to attend to,” Tutu said vaguely, as she helped Leilani out of the car and handed me a tote bag packedwith donuts, belly oil, a water bottle, and something that appeared to be a pineapple wrapped in a baby blanket.
“You’re leaving her with me?” I asked. “This close to show time?”
“You’re a responsible adult, aren’t you?”
That was debatable.
Tutu rolled her eyes. “Just don’t panic. You have everything you need.”
“But I panic all the time.”
“Yes, but you panicquietly,” she replied. “It’s a quality I admire.”
Leilani kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “Tell me where you’re going?”
“Just a little business,” Tutu said breezily. “We need to go pick up Kupuna Mahealani and Uncle Koa first, but it’s nothing for you to worry your lovely baby brain about.”
And with that, they were gone.
I picked up the tote bag as we watched them drive away. “God, these donuts are heavy.”
“That’s not the donuts. That’s Baby Pineapple -Head. I thought you could use some practice swaddling a newborn, albeit a prickly one.”
“I can’t wait!”
The house was quiet.
It was just me and Leilani.
Everyone else had taken Mr. Banks out for a gentle stroll along the beach. The doctors had said the sea air would do him good—as long as he didn’t try to swim, sprint, or start a debate about Cold War espionage with any tourists.
And so, it was just us—me, Leilani, and the baby-shaped fruit.
And—for a few golden minutes—the quiet felt like a gift.
Leilani was out on the lanai, barefoot, in a long, floaty cotton dress that made her look like some kind of benevolent pregnantisland queen. One hand rested protectively on her belly. The other stirred a mug of peppermint tea.
I joined her with my own cup and settled into the seat beside her, letting the sound of rustling palms and ocean waves fill the spaces between us.
“Wow, the house is never this quiet,” she said. “Feels weird. A good weird, I mean.”
“I know,” I murmured. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “Suspiciously so.”
I glanced down at her belly. “May I?”
She nodded, and I reached over, resting my hand gently on the curve of her stomach. It was warm, alive, firm, andsoready to hatch.
“Hello in there,” I said. “We’re all very excited to meet you, but please don’t rush. Especially not right at this moment… while we’re here all alone. I know I’m supposed to be a responsible adult, but if you could just hold off until there are other responsible adults around, that would be greatly appreciated.”
Leilani chuckled. “It’s already like a watermelon in a straitjacket. I don’t think it’s staying in much longer.”
“You’re handling it like a goddess.”
