“Oh. You’re a fan of astronomy?”
“I am,” he said. “And Hawaii is an astronomer’s dream because of almost nonexistent pollution as well as access to Haleakalā. I can’t wait to take my wife up there again for the sunrise preshow of stars.”
“That sounds lovely,” Quinn said. And it did. She was going to have to tell Liam she’d added another item to her Maui bucket list. “Please let me know when you need transportation, and we can also pack you an easy breakfast to take with you.”
He smiled broadly. “That would be great. I’m so glad I found this place.”
“We are too. And as for the peace you crave, that’s one of the biggest perks of staying in Hana, where you’re surrounded by waterfalls and other sounds of nature. There’s nothing more peaceful than a rain forest. Then if you’re interested in going to the beach, you can get to Hana Bay Beach from a short path off our property. Also, the Kaihalulu Red Sand Beach isn’t too far away, and if you prefer to check out the more distant Hamoa Beach, we can arrange a shuttle.”
He nodded. “I might take a few walks on the beach if my wife sleeps in.”
“It won’t beat what you see at the Haleakalā summit, but you can catch a lovely Maui sunrise there around seven,” she said. She stood back and clasped her hands. “Mr. Westbrooks, I’d like to thank you for choosing to stay with us for this visit. We’re thrilled to have you both. I hope you’ll understand if there are a few imperfections. Since we are so new, there might be some hidden issues we need to find and address, so please point out anything you see that needs improvement.”
“I doubt we’ll find a thing, but thank you. I truly appreciate it.”
She nodded to him, then to his wife, who sat quietly in her wheelchair just to the side. She wore a flowered scarf wrapped around her head, the bright colors a stark contrast to the paleness of her face. The circles around her eyes were dark, but her expression was patient. “Your luggage will be delivered to your room shortly, and I’ll send one of the girls to unpack for you. Again, please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. Oh, and Hasegawa General Store is only a short ride away if you need any staples for the room.”
“Thanks. For starters, you can call me David. And my wife is Julianne,” he said. “We’re not formal people either. So it seems we’ll all get along just fine.”
Charlie walked around the counter and up to the wheelchair. He ran his finger along the armrest, his eyes wandering to the shiny spokes on the wheels.
“Why does your chair have wheels?” he asked Mrs. Westbrooks.
Quinn cringed. Charlie was a unique little boy. He’d never met a stranger and was inquisitive, but in a sweet way. She’d thought she had him sufficiently occupied with lei making, but she should’ve remembered his short attention span.
“It’s so that I can go where I want to go without walking,” Julianne said.
“Why can’t you walk?” Charlie asked.
Quinn wanted to melt into the floor and started to interrupt, but the woman held her hand up, stopping her.
“That’s a good question. I can walk, but right now it’s hard for me because I haven’t been feeling well. When you don’t feel good, you don’t like to walk around either, right? Sometimes you’re just tired?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Then my mom carries me.”
She laughed. “Wow. Someone must have some strong muscles because you are a really big boy.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows at that. She was right. Charlie was too big to be carried, but you had to know his mom to understand. Maggie grew up the only girl in a family of boys, and despite being thin as a reed, she was strong as an ox. Stubborn as one too.
“Can I ride in your chair?” Charlie asked.
Quinn felt her face flush. “I’m so sorry. He’s not good with boundaries.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” Julianne said. She turned her attention to Charlie. “You sure can. I mean, if your mom says it’s okay. I’ll take you for a ride on my lap, and David can push us.”
“Oh, I’m not his mom,” Quinn said. “I’m just looking out for him today. And we need to let you get settled in, Mrs. West—I mean Julianne. Charlie, maybe you’ll see her later after she has time to rest up from their trip.”
Julianne tousled Charlie’s hair and he grinned, then quickly lost interest as he remembered his project and returned to Quinn’s side of the counter to tend to it.
“Thanks so much,” David said. “We’ll probably see you this afternoon.”
He went to his wife’s chair and turned it around, then headed down the hall.
Quinn watched them go. She couldn’t help but feel sad for them, especially the husband. It was obvious that he loved his wife dearly and was putting on a brave face as time with her was slipping away.
A bittersweet memory flooded back. Quinn remembered the last time she’d bathed her mom—not her biological mother, but the woman who’d raised her—both of them crying silent tears that mingled with the warm water Quinn so lovingly poured over her mother’s battle-worn body. Somehow they knew it would be one of the last times they’d be so physically close, and they were right. Her mom had died a few days later.
Because of that experience, people battling cancer held a special place in Quinn’s heart, and this couple, even before she’d met them, made her want their visit to be memorable. She’d put a pitcher of chilled fruit-infused water and a basket of specialty cheese and crackers, as well as some of her friend Maria’s famous shortbread cookies, in their room. The final touch was a comfortable recliner they’d put a rush order on just a few days ago, delivered that morning.
The recliner—along with a small table that held a book of Hawaiian inspirational quotes—was placed directly in front of the large window in the room so that Mrs. Westbrooks could lie back and have the light to read by or simply enjoy the scenery from a comfortable place.
Quinn had found a handmade shawl from a Front Street boutique. The label called it a Hawaiian Sea Glass shawl, obviously named for the soft shades of blue yarn it was made from. One touch and Quinn had to have it for Julianne. It would be perfect for cool nights on the beach or even from their private lanai.
She’d folded it on the corner of the bed and left a note next to it welcoming them to Hana. She also left coupons for complimentary breakfast sandwiches, as well as a full lunch at the hotel café each day of their stay so they wouldn’t have to venture far if they didn’t want to.
Quinn didn’t do as much for every guest. She couldn’t or they’d be bankrupt in a year, but this couple was special. When the husband had called to make last-minute reservations, he’d said it would most likely be their final trip together before his wife succumbed to her illness. She’d recently stopped chemo and other drugs, deciding on quality of life over quantity—a decision that Quinn was positive didn’t come easy.
He’d told her everything in what sounded to Quinn like a practiced monotonic voice. But she was sure she’d heard a dip in his tone once or twice before he was businesslike again.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr. Westbrooks,” Quinn had answered, struggling for the proper response. “I’ll do all that I can to make this a wonderful and comfortable stay for her.”