It was their first trip to Hawaii too, and the same sort of dream vacation as ours: “I’ve wanted to come here for thirty years,” Brenda said, “ever since I first saw Elvis in Blue Hawaii.” So we had that in common. But unlike us, they were traveling first-class. They’d spent a week in one of the most exclusive hotels on Maui, and had a suite here at the Kolekole, and would be staying in the islands for a total of five weeks. They were even going to spend a few days on Molokai, where Father Damien had founded his lepers’ colony over a hundred years ago.
Larry told us all of this in an offhand, joking way — not at all flaunting the fact that they were obviously well-off. He was a tall, beefy fellow, losing his hair as I was and compensating for it with a thick brush moustache. Brenda was a big-boned blonde with pretty gray eyes. They both wore loud Hawaiian shirts and flower leis, and Brenda had a pale pink flower — a hibiscus blossom, she told Jan — in her hair. It was plain that they doted on each other and plain that they were having the time of their lives. They kept exchanging grins and winks, touching hands, kissing every now and then like newlyweds. It was infectious. We weren’t with them ten minutes before Jan and I found ourselves holding hands too.
They were from Milwaukee, where they were about to open a luxury catering service. “Another lifelong dream,” Brenda said. Which gave us something else in common, in an indirect way. Jan and I own a small restaurant in Coeur d’Alene, Carpenter’s Steakhouse, which we’d built into a fairly successful business over the past twenty years. Our daughter Lynn was managing it for us while we were in Hawaii.
We talked with the Archersons about the pros and cons of the food business and had another round of drinks which Larry insisted on paying for. When the drinks arrived, he lifted his mai tai and said, “Aloha nui kakou, folks.”
“That’s an old Hawaiian toast” Brenda explained. “It means to your good health, or something like that. Larry is a magnet for Hawaiian words and phrases. I swear he’ll be able to write a tourist phrasebook by the time we leave the islands.”
“Maybe I will too, kuu ipo.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, then leaned over and nipped his ear. “Kuu ipo means sweetheart,” she said to us.
When we finished our second round of drinks, Larry asked, “You folks haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”
We said we hadn’t.
“Well then, why don’t you join us in the Garden Court? Their mahi-mahi is out of this world. Our treat — what do you say?”
Jan seemed willing, so I said, “Fine with us. But let’s make it Dutch treat.”
“Nonsense. I invited you, that makes you our guests. No arguments, now — I never argue on an empty stomach.”
The food was outstanding. So was the wine Larry selected to go with it, a rich French chardonnay. The Garden Court was open-sided like the lanai bar, and the night breeze had a warm, velvety feel, heavy with the scents of hibiscus and plumeria. The moon, huge and near full, made the ocean look as though it were overlaid with a sheet of gold.
“Is this living or is this living?” Larry said over coffee and Kahlua.
“It’s a taste of paradise,” Jan said.
“It is paradise. Great place, great food, great drinks, great company. What more could anybody want?”
“Well, I can think of one thing,” Brenda said with a leer.
Larry winked at me. “That’s another great thing about the tropics, Dick. It puts a new spark in your love life.”
“I can use a spark,” I said. “I think a couple of my plugs are shot.”
Jan cracked me on the arm and we all laughed.
“So what are you folks doing tomorrow?” Larry asked. “Any plans?”
“Well, we thought we’d either drive down to the Volcanoes National Park or explore the northern part of the island.”
“We’re day-tripping up north ourselves — Waimea, Waipio Valley, the Kohala Cost. How about coming along with us?”
“Well...”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. We rented a Caddy and there’s plenty of room. You can both just sit back and relax and soak up the sights.”
“Jan? Okay with you?”
She nodded, and Larry said, “Terrific. Let’s get an early start — breakfast at seven, on the road by eight. That isn’t too early for you folks? No? Good, then it’s settled.”
When the check came I offered again to pay half. He wouldn’t hear of it. As we left the restaurant, Brenda said she felt like going dancing and Larry said that was a fine idea, how about making it a foursome? Jan and I begged off. It had been a long day, as travel days always are, and we were both ready for bed.
In our room, Jan asked, “What do you think of them?”
“Likable and fun to be with,” I said. “But exhausting. Where do they get all their energy?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Larry’s a little pushy. We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t talk us into anything we don’t want to do.” I paused. “You know, there’s something odd about the way they act together. It’s more than just being on a dream vacation, having a good time, but I can’t quite put my finger on it...”
“They’re like a couple of kids with a big secret,” Jan said. “They’re so excited they’re ready to burst.”
We’ve been married for nearly thirty years and we often have similar impressions and perceptions. Sometimes it amazes me just how closely our minds work.
“That’s it,” I said. “That’s it exactly.”
The trip to the northern part of the island was enjoyable, if wearying. Larry and Brenda did most of the talking, Larry playing tour guide and unraveling an endless string of facts about Hawaii’s history, geography, flora, and fauna. We spent a good part of the morning in the rustic little town of Waimea, in the saddle between Kohala Mountain and the towering Mauna Kea — the seat of the Parker Ranch, the largest individually owned cattle ranch in the United States. It was lunchtime when we finished rubbing elbows with Hawaiian cowboys and shopping for native crafts, and Brenda suggested we buy sandwich fixings and a bottle of wine and find someplace to have a picnic.
Larry wanted to hike out to the rim of the Waipio Valley and picnic there, but the rest of us weren’t up to a long walk. So we drove up into the mountains on the Kawaihae road. When the road leveled out across a long plateau, we might have been in California or the Pacific Northwest: rolling fields, cattle, thick stands of pine. In the middle of one of the wooded sections, Larry slowed and then pulled off onto the verge.
“Down there by that stream,” he said. “Now that’s a perfect spot for a picnic.”
Brenda wasn’t so sure. “You think it’s safe? Looks like a lot of brush and grass to wade through...”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any wild animals up here to bother us.”
“What about creepy-crawlies?”
“Nope. No poisonous snakes or spiders on any of the Hawaiian Islands.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure, kuu ipo. The guidebooks never lie.”
We had our picnic, and all through it Larry and Brenda nuzzled and necked and cast little knowing glances at each other. Once he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh raucously and say, “Oh, you’re wicked!” Their behavior had seemed charming last night, but today it was making both Jan and me uncomfortable. Fifty-year-old adults who act like conspiratorial teenagers seem ludicrous after you’ve spent enough time in their company.