up in the bed, she realized she’d slept away the rest of the afternoon and all of the evening. Annoyed with this waste of hours, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and decided to see if, by chance, anyone remained awake.
Easing open the door to her room, she glanced down the hall in both directions. A soft light illuminated the stairs, so Ophelia headed that way, her feet moving soundlessly across the carpet. She had just reached the bottom step and noted all the inn’s lights were off for the evening when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a motorcycle outside. She crept closer to the open windows. The echo of hushed dialogue and muted giggles drifted toward her as the motorcycle purred gently.
Leaning forward, she carefully parted two of the blinds’ slats and peered out. In the pale light spilling from the front porch, Ophelia saw a girl leaning against the solid form of a young man as he remained seated on the bike.
They were murmuring affectionately, their foreheads pressed together, and Ophelia felt a sudden tug of longing. She couldn’t remember Cole ever cradling her in such a way—not even in the early stages of their relationship four years ago. But then, he had never much liked public displays of affection. She suppressed a sigh and though she felt jealous of the young couple outside the inn, she experienced no such regret for ending things with Cole.
But to be held in such a way...wasn’t that every girl’s dream?
As the embrace lingered, Ophelia felt embarrassed for intruding. Straightening, she began to head back toward the stairs but stubbed her toe on the edge of a cabinet, causing her to hop around and bite back a string of curses. By the time she regained her balance, the front door had eased open, and the girl she’d been spying on stood before her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other in surprise.
Ophelia rubbed her opposite foot over her smarting toe. “Sorry,” she apologized.
“For what?” the girl asked.
“Um...” Ophelia trailed off, reluctant to admit she’d been watching the younger woman’s midnight tryst.
“Are you a guest?” The girl stepped forward, and Ophelia could only nod in acknowledgment. The younger woman’s face split into a beaming smile featuring even white teeth against the backdrop of her smooth, sun-kissed complexion. “Aloha, I’m Leilani.” She extended a hand. “I’m in charge of reception, events and bookings.”
Though the words were spoken softly in deference to the late hour, Ophelia noted the pride in them. She relaxed at the friendly introduction.
“Ophelia Reid,” she said in equally hushed tones and inserted her hand into Leilani’s. “I flew in from New York this morning. I’m booked in the Liliuokalani suite for the week.”
“Oh, yeah.” Leilani’s head bobbed, her long, dark hair swishing forward with the movement. “You booked at the last minute, right? Something about unexpected travel plans?”
Ophelia licked her lips, uncertain how much she should reveal to one of Dane’s employees. “Well, um...yes. My assistant would have been the one to make all the arrangements.”
Leilani’s eyes widened. “Oh. Your assistant?”
“It’s a long story.”
Leilani cocked her head with curiosity, studying Ophelia. “Have you eaten?” she questioned at last.
Ophelia’s stomach growled right on cue. She frowned apologetically. “I fell asleep for a few hours. The time difference and all.”
Leilani waved a hand as if this happened all the time.
“I suppose I could drive down to the coast,” Ophelia considered. “Surely there’s got to be some late-night diners open or something.”
Now Leilani was shaking her head. She reached out to grab Ophelia’s hand, dragging her along as she spoke in whispers. “I’m starving! We’ll raid the fridge together. That way, if we get caught, I can tell them you forced me into it.”
Ophelia couldn’t help grinning at this girl’s friendliness.
“But there’s one condition.” Leilani halted and turned to face her. “You can’t tell my tutu or Dane that I got in so late.”
“Tutu?”
“My grandmother,” Leilani explained.
“Oh.” Ophelia considered her. “Are you breaking your curfew? I did that a time or two myself back in high school.” Never any more than that, though. She dared not risk it and upset her mother.
“I’m almost nineteen,” Leilani said, “but after everything that happened last year, I still get treated like I’m a toddler sometimes. Especially by my tutu.”
Leilani released Ophelia’s hand and led her through a doorway, flicking on lights to reveal the interior of the inn’s kitchen. When Leilani began speaking once more, her voice was soft but not nearly so hushed as before.
“Dane’s not so bad—he trusts me. But Tutu still worries.”
“Your grandmother...er, your tutu, is...” Ophelia prompted.
“Oh, Pele. The housekeeper and cook? You probably met her already. You’d remember if you had.”
Ophelia grimaced at the recollection of the short, feisty woman. “Yes. I know what you mean.”
Leilani nodded, her expression serious despite the humor in Ophelia’s tone. “I got into some pretty bad stuff a year ago. I cleaned up my act but grandmas...you know how they are.”
Ophelia bit her lip and didn’t say anything. Her paternal grandparents had been gone long before she was born, and she had never gotten to spend much time with her maternal ones before they passed away during her college years. Her mother had avoided visits with them as much as possible.
Leilani seemed not to notice Ophelia’s silence as she turned and opened the fridge door to begin rummaging inside.
“Do you like huli huli chicken?” she asked from within the recesses of the refrigerator.
“I’m sorry—what?”
Leilani emerged holding several containers. “Huli huli chicken?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Oh, um...I guess it’s sort of like barbecue chicken but with ginger, soy sauce, brown sugar, you know.”
Another rumble in Ophelia’s stomach settled the matter for her. “I’d love to try it.”
Leilani nodded with a grin and continued to pull containers from the fridge, announcing their contents as she placed them on the kitchen island.
“Mango bread, huli huli chicken, steamed rice with pineapple, roasted sweet potatoes...”
Ophelia began peeling lids off the dishes. “Sounds like a feast.”
“Tutu may be a little prickly sometimes, but her food is pure sweetness.”
Inhaling
