When he’d asked for a fully handicap-accessible room, he told her his wife used to be a dancer, and that her new mobility problems had brought her to another level of resigned acceptance that the disease had won. He’d asked for ideas to cheer her up while they were in Maui.
Quinn was still thinking on that one.
“I’m back,” said Emily.
“Good, it’s all yours. Your next guests were supposed to arrive on the island an hour ago, so they’ll be pulling up any minute. I’m taking Curious George outside for some fresh air.”
“Got it, Boss,” Emily said, smiling at Charlie.
“Who is Curious George?” Charlie asked. “Can I play with him?”
Quinn and Emily laughed.
“Let’s go, buddy,” Quinn said, giving Charlie a little nudge.
She followed him outside, keeping a close eye on him as he promptly forgot all about George and began his exploration for geckos. Quinn wouldn’t let him out of her sight. There were a lot of places on the property amid the breathtaking tropical flora where a little boy could get lost.
She wasn’t about to let that happen on her watch, especially after everything Maggie had been through to ensure his safety.
The hotel sat on eight acres, landscaped with gorgeous native Hawaiian plants. Then, to her delight, there was a five-acre nature reserve easement between their land and the white sand beach.
If Charlie convinced her to take him that far today—and he was a heck of a negotiator—he knew he’d be able to see a turtle or two. Maybe even a pair of nene geese, the Hawaiian state bird.
Quinn thought of the million little things on her to-do list. She really didn’t have time to babysit Charlie, but Maggie needed to ace that interview for her own peace of mind, so Quinn was happy to set things aside for an hour or so to help her out.
“Charlie, no tree climbing today,” she said, catching him just as he started shimmying up the low branch of a banyan tree. For four years old, he was impressively agile. “You can’t get dirty. Your mom might be taking you somewhere later.”
“Aww, Auntie Quinn,” he whined, but quickly turned his attention elsewhere.
Quinn loved that he called her that, even though she wasn’t truly his auntie. She and his mom had been best friends since childhood, so to her they were family.
She stopped to admire the tall banyan tree. The landscaping foreman had done a wonderful job of working around and protecting the trees and plants native to Maui. Her brother, Jonah, was to thank for that. It was his friend Paul they’d brought in on a trial basis and now couldn’t do without.
Charlie knew not to pick any flowers, but he stopped and smelled a hibiscus.
“Tell me how they got here again, Auntie Quinn,” he said.
Since she’d gotten to know Charlie, Quinn had also figured out that she had a knack for telling stories, many of them based on the Hawaiian myths or legends she’d read recently. Since meeting her biological family and learning that she was born on the island, she had felt an undeniable pull to learn as much as she could about her culture. The Hawaiian legends were her favorites out of all her research.
It made her happy that Charlie loved to hear them too.
“A long time ago,” she began, “the Hawaiian islands stood alone in the Pacific, many miles from the nearest continent. The land was lifeless. It lay cracked and dry from many years of volcanic activity. That stayed true until Mother Nature took pity and sent the birds to carry seeds from far, far away. She stirred up the winds and the tides to also carry seeds from other lands until finally the trees, plants, and flowers began to bloom, making the islands into the tropical paradise they are today.”
Charlie smiled. By now he could probably quote the story himself, but for some reason she thought the imagery he conjured up in his head worked best when she told it. He still had a smile of wonder as he quickly moved out of reach and on to the next thing. It was fun seeing the island through his eyes. He thought everything was wonderful.
And it was.
Quinn knew she was lucky. She wouldn’t say there hadn’t been some ups and downs to get where she was, and she was still trying to figure some things out, but it was all coming together much better than she could’ve dreamed. Her life had certainly changed in the last few months. Before she’d come to Maui, she was an orphan, no family to speak of after her mother’s death. She was also engaged to a man who on paper was a great catch—but for someone else, not her. That page belonged in a different book.
However, a deathbed confession from her mother had set her on a search for her father, which in turn led her to the discovery that she wasn’t who she thought she was. In Maui, there was an entire family for her to find. It hadn’t all been easy, but day by day she was learning what it meant to have a big family who loved her unconditionally and wanted her to succeed.
She’d broken off her engagement, and leaving her longtime (and overbearing) fiancé thousands of miles away was the smartest decision she’d ever made.
A flicker of green caught her eye.
“Here’s one, Charlie,” she called out.
He ran back to her. Without hesitation he plucked the gecko off the tree and held it between his two fingers, looking straight into its face.
“I’m going to name him Gary,” he said, taking care not to make his tail fall off. He’d learned that the hard way the last time he’d handled a gecko, his guilty tears moving Quinn.
Quinn laughed. “Gary the Gecko? That sounds good. But you’re going to let him go, aren’t you? If you take him home, Woodrow might eat him.”
She watched the expressions change rapidly on Charlie’s face as he went through the gamut of emotions. She understood the dilemma. What little boy didn’t want to take a gecko home and keep it in his room?
“Woodrow doesn’t eat geckos, but I’ll let this one go back to his family,” he said finally, setting the gecko back where he’d found him.
“Good decision. Let’s go a little farther—then I need to get back.”
He skipped ahead, the gecko already forgotten.
Quinn watched him while she mentally checked tasks off her list. There was never a shortage of those. When her grandmother Helen offered her a partnership in turning the ramshackle inn into something profitable, Quinn had no idea how many tiny details went into a challenge like that. The family had snagged the foreclosed property for a song, and now you’d never know it was anything but the quaint inn that stood before her.
She was so proud of it.
They kept it small to maintain its categorization as an inn. Only seven guest rooms, but they were spacious. In the common areas, the floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the beautiful views on all sides of the building. A few overlooked their lap pool, which was surrounded by a natural stone deck and flanked by not one but two hot tubs. All the floors were striking New Zealand hardwoods. The small café carried on the theme as the wood repeated itself in solid butcher counters for the breakfast bar and hand-carved tables. The lobby was open to allow the trade winds to enter from the outside, but it was protected against rain.
Quinn’s favorite renovation was the gigantic inlaid sea turtle that stretched across the lobby floor, the different colors of marble coming together in an array of dazzling shades of green to give the honu the majestic presentation it deserved. In Hawaiian culture, the sea turtle was considered good luck and a guardian spirit. It also symbolized endurance and longevity, which was what Quinn hoped the inn would have.