"Aloha, Pali." Tomika extended her hand, and gave mine a little squeeze. "It's my pleasure to have you visit my home. Your name, it means 'cliff' or 'steep hill' in Hawaiian. Do you know why your mother named you this?"

I wasn't about to go into the origin of my name-especially since it's a made-up name, not my birth name. "It's actually just a nickname from childhood. It also means 'difficult' as I'm sure you know."

"Ah, that is correct. I've known quite a few keiki who could have rightfully been named 'Pali'."

We got in and the driver ran around the car closing all the doors. Aside from four wheels and a roof, the plushy town car had nothing in common with my Geo. First of all, it smelled like Lemon Pledge, rather than a load of dirty laundry. Everything, from the electric windows to the multiple stereo speakers murmuring cool jazz, seemed in tiptop shape. The silky leather seats felt so comfy I was tempted to lean back and grab a few winks.

"Ono tells me you're a wedding coordinator. That must be exciting."

"It is, most of the time. Sometimes it's frustrating. People, especially brides and their mothers, think everything must be perfect. As if a flawless wedding day will make up for every slight, every disappointment, every loss they will face throughout their marriage. If the least little thing goes wrong, some of them come completely unglued."

"Ah, but it's supposed to be a celebration of love. A time for family and friends. In my experience some of my most charming memories are of things that didn't go quite as planned. That's the beauty of life, don't you agree?"

"Yes, but try telling that to a bride whose silk gown gets soaked by a rogue wave during the pre-wedding photo shoot."

"Well, regardless of the circumstances, I'm sure you do a wonderful job. And to always be working around happy people-people in love-you are truly blessed."

The lady put Pollyanna to shame. They ought to bottle her so I could take a snort every time I had to handle a hissy fit over flawed dyed-to-match shoes, or I had to referee a mother versus stepmother catfight over the seating chart for the reception dinner.

"Mostly it's a great job," I said. "But there are days when all I want to do is go home and spend a quiet evening with my own best man: Jack Daniels."

Tomika stiffened and pointedly turned to look out the window at the buildings flashing by. Call me paranoid, but I could've sworn the temperature in the car dropped fifteen degrees.

CHAPTER 9.

Tomika Fujioka's condo was on the forty-first floor of a gleaming sky-blue high rise adjacent to the Ala Moana Center. I'm not keen on elevators, having ridden in them only a few times in my life, and zipping up four hundred feet in a matter of seconds didn't sit well with my empty stomach. But once we got inside her condo, the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows made the ride almost worth it. I guess if you're stuck living in a big city, this is definitely the way to go.

"It's spectacular," I said. She'd probably heard that more than a few times before, but there really wasn't another way to say it.

"Some gorgeous view, huh?" said Ono. "I'm not much for city-dwelling, but I make an exception for Honolulu. Look at that endless horizon. And the lights at night will knock you out."

Tomika came in carrying a black lacquer tray with a pitcher of fruit juice and a plate of exquisite French macaroons, those perfect little pastel cookies that look fake but melt in your mouth. I held myself back to avoid looking like a lion on a hyena carcass, but after I counted to ten, I snatched up a pale pink one.

"Aren't these just the sweetest little treats?" Tomika said, admiring the lemon-yellow cookie in her hand. Meanwhile, I was brushing the crumbs off my lips from the pink one that was by now merely a fond memory.

"Oh, come on," said Ono. "Those are sissy cookies. I was hoping you'd get some of those chocolate chip ones from that shop in Ala Moana. You know, the ones as big as hubcaps with the nuts and the hunks of chocolate."

"Ah, my brawny sailor-man," said Tomika. "Don't worry. I've got some of those for you in the refrigerator. I was hoping to first tempt your palate with these lovely French works of art."

"I don't want art," he said. "I want food." He got up and strode into the kitchen-a polished oasis of black granite and stainless steel-as if he owned the place.

I heard the refrigerator door open. "Anyone else want a real American cookie?"

We both declined.

He came back with an enormous cookie in his hand, and plopped down on the sofa next to Tomika. They looked at each other with such tenderness I averted my eyes.

"It's wonderful to have you back here," she said, patting his thigh.

"Great to be here. The crossing was pretty good. Kinda choppy going around Moloka'i, but that's to be expected. It took us a little over twelve hours."

"Oh, I meant to ask you," said Tomika, "are you ready for the party, or do you need Bub to take you down in the morning to get things set up?"

"Nope, we're good. I told Pali you wanted to do a little shopping with her tomorrow, and if it's all right with you, I'm going to stick around here and watch some football."

"That's a good plan," she said. She rose from the sofa and started toward the kitchen, but then she turned and looked at me. "You're not allergic to seafood, are you, Pali? I ordered some nice lobsters to be sent up."

"I love lobster. It's a real treat for us on Maui; we don't get it that often. Did you find some Australian lobsters at the market?"

"No, they're fine, but they're usually rather small. For company I like to buy the fresh Maine lobsters. More meaty."

"Well, you know what I like even more than lobster?" said Ono.

"Yes, dearest, and so I'm having them send up some ahi poke along with the lobsters."

Personally, I'm not a poke fan. It's nearly sacrilegious to admit, because it's practically Hawaii's official state food, but raw fish in any form: poke, sushi, sashimi, you name it, makes me want to spit it out on the floor.

"Oh, and I hope you like asparagus," Tomika went on, "I ordered some that they fly in from California. Very tender, and the cook dresses it with a lovely hollandaise sauce."

It pretty much went that way for the rest of the night. The china was Limoges, the glassware was Waterford crystal, and Tomika toted dish after lavish dish from the kitchen until I was worried I might have to unbutton my shorts in order to stand up. She didn't offer wine, but after twelve hours of wind-whipped sailing followed by the stress of being in her foo-foo big city digs, I would've declined anyway. By the time she served the coconut creme brulee I was only a blink away from dozing off.

Ono said he'd clear the table and she took him up on his offer. We adjourned to the living room to admire the twinkling lights of the city and finish our coffee. When Ono returned, he took a seat next to Tomika, and draped his arm across her shoulder.

She smiled at Ono, then me. "Pali, I'm giving you the front guest room. It has a beautiful view of the harbor. And you, my dear," she laid her hand flat against Ono's cheek and held his gaze, "will sleep in your usual place; right where I can keep my eye on you."

The next morning I woke up early. I lay in the soft bed wondering about proper guest etiquette for making coffee in someone else's home. Is it rude to sneak into the kitchen and rustle through her cabinets? Or is it considered polite to step up and not leave everything to Tomika?

After fifteen minutes of debating the issue, my need for caffeine settled it. I tiptoed to the kitchen in my tee-shirt and panties and quietly opened doors and drawers looking for coffee and filters. All I found were whole beans, which meant grinding, which meant waking up Tomika and Ono. I abandoned that idea and was slinking back down the hallway when Ono popped out of the bathroom. I gasped and pulled at the hem of my tee-shirt in an attempt to cover myself up.

"Sorry," he said, giving my legs a quick appraisal. "I didn't realize you were up."

"Yeah. I'll cop to my caffeine addiction. I can't do morning without a cup in hand."

He smiled. "You sleep okay?"

"Like a rock." I didn't ask him how he slept; it might open the door to more information than I could handle so early in the morning.

"I almost came in to check on you last night, but I didn't want Tomika getting the wrong idea," he said.

I stared at him. What was that about?

He nodded toward my room and continued. "You better put on a robe. Tomika's sort of a prude about flashing too much skin."

"I didn't bring a robe."

"Check in your closet."

I looked in the guest room closet and, sure enough, I found a silky jade green robe hanging on a padded hanger. I slipped it on and was about to return to the kitchen when I heard voices in the hallway.

"Good morning, my sweet." It was Tomika.

"Good morning. How're you feeling? You get rid of that headache?" Oh yikes, the woman had feigned a headache? I wanted to clap my hands over my ears to avoid overhearing any more.

I opened the bedroom door and Tomika smiled at me. "Oh, that robe is so pretty on you with your lovely blond hair and blue eyes. You look beautiful in green." I guess some people don't need coffee to be cheery in the morning-or flattering. My hair's more dishwater than blond, my eyes more hazel than blue, but if she wants to call me blond and blue, I'll take it.

"Mahalo," I said. "This is a lovely robe. Is it silk?"

"Yes. It's from southern China. I don't admire their politics, but they do make gorgeous heavy silks." She paused a moment, then continued. "I want you to have it."

Without coffee in me it took me a few seconds to respond. "Have this? You mean this robe? Oh, mahalo, but no. I've already imposed enough staying here with you and Ono."

"I insist. It's not every day I get to meet someone new and give them a little present. Please don't disappoint me."

I looked over at Ono. His head was down and he was rubbing his eyes as if he was still waking up, but it looked more like a ruse to avoid casting a vote on whether or not I should accept the expensive robe.

"Well, I don't know what else to say but mahalo. It's a very generous gift. I'll think of you every time I wear it."

"There, you see," Tomika said, turning to Ono. "I told you she was a nice girl. You would do well to surround yourself with nice friends like Pali when you're back home on Maui."

CHAPTER 10.

I'm not one for puzzling things out. I prefer the direct approach. Schemes, mind games and sarcasm don't work for me. I wasn't a hundred percent sure what was going on with Ono and Tomika's relationship but I figured I'd wait until we were back on the boat for the trip home and then I'd just come right out ask him. I spent a pleasant Sunday morning with Tomika poking through the immense cathedral of commerce called Ala Moana Shopping Center, but I didn't buy anything except a new cell phone battery. As soon as we got back to her condo I installed the battery and my phone fired right up. The screen showed I had messages waiting, but I chose to ignore them until I could return the calls in private.

A few minutes after three we were in the town car heading back to the harbor. Bub pulled to the curb at Holomoana Street, across from the harbor entrance, and Ono and I got out. We trudged down to the moorage and I waited while Ono fiddled with the keypad on the metal gate, since getting to the actual dock required punching in a code.

"You and Tomika have fun today?" he said. We'd both been quiet on the ride down, as if each of us was waiting for the other to bring up the subject of Tomika.

"Yeah. She's a sweet lady."

"That she is. I probably should have clued you in on our relationship before bringing you over here."

"I, uh, well..." I was about to say something dumb, like it wasn't any of my business, or something equally phony. Truth was, I was dying to know.

"She saved my life. Literally. There's no doubt in my mind," he said.

I waited.

"Yeah, I was one sorry son-of-a-bitch when I showed up in Honolulu three years ago. When my wife Penny died, I didn't take it well. For one thing, I quit my job-or to be honest, I got fired. I'd started drinking pretty heavy, and the only way I could keep myself from putting a gun in my mouth was to keep pouring liquor in there instead."

I looked over at him, but he wouldn't catch my eye.

"It's hard to think about," he said. He stopped and put his duffel down. He stared toward the far end of the dock like he didn't have any idea what he was doing there.

"Hey, you don't have to go into the ugly details if you don't want to," I said.

"No, it's good for me to talk about it. I came to Hawaii on a whim. I think I blamed the dark and rain of Portland for my drinking and depression, so I figured if I moved someplace warm and sunny I'd snap out of it. Problem was, it didn't work out that way."

I nodded.

"Once I got here I started hittin' the booze even harder, if you can believe that. I had no friends; I lived in a ratty ohana shack I rented from a guy up in Waianae. I'd take the bus down to the city and get so drunk I couldn't figure out how to catch the bus back home. One night Tomika was out with some friends and I..." He paused and sucked in a breath.

He continued. "Wow, this is harder to talk about than I imagined. I don't usually unload on people like this. Sorry." He dragged his hands down his face.

"Hey, I'm serious," I said. "You don't have to air all your dirty laundry at once. I'm fine with just taking it one pair of socks at a time."

He smiled. "Yeah, thanks. But if you don't mind, I'd rather get it over with. I haven't told this story very often. They tell me it gets easier every time."

I wanted to tell him 'they' were usually full of crap, but I kept quiet.

"Anyhow, I panhandled Tomika and she gave me a fifty dollar bill wrapped around a business card. I couldn't believe it. Then she told me I could count on more where that came from if I'd go to the address on the card and call her when I sobered up." He smiled. "I had no intention of sobering up, and with the price of the rot gut I'd been drinking, fifty bucks was more than enough to kill me."

He went on. "Funny how stuff works, you know? I took that fifty and started walking toward an ABC Store. I was planning to buy the biggest bottle they had, but then I just kept walking until I got to a Christian mission down on Pau'ahi Street. That was the address on the business card."

I said nothing. It was tough for me to imagine this good-looking, energetic man panhandling and sleeping off rot-gut in a homeless shelter.

"Anyway, I got into a program and Tomika offered to be my sponsor."

"Isn't a sponsor usually another recovering alcoholic?"

"Yep. That's how it works."

Okay, picturing Ono as a pathetic alcoholic was one thing; picturing Tomika pounding down the booze took more imagination than I possessed.

"She was a drinker?"

"Yeah. When you've got money, it's even worse 'cuz it's a much longer fall before you hit bottom."

I nodded.

"I can't talk about her story, but trust me, she's got demons we wouldn't wish on our worst enemy. Saving people isn't a hobby for her, it's a necessity."

At a quarter to four, Chico showed up carrying two bulging plastic shopping bags of juice and gin. I watched as he set up the bar and I wondered how Ono and Tomika felt about having all that liquor around.