this, Eleanor? I don’t hold sway over my friend’s choice of a husband, and I certainly don’t have any influence over Xander Garst’s land deals.”
Her glower softened. “We Native Hawaiians have received the same benefits from the haoles as the Native Americans—death from the measles and smallpox, subversion of our customs and our religion, and the appropriation and occupation of our land.”
Whoa! So Eleanor could shift registers at will. Dinah’s curiosity intensified. Did she use the pidgin dialect to maintain street cred with the locals, or as a guise to make people like Xander think she was ignorant and controllable? “Is your quarrel with Xander Garst about a single housing development or Native Rights in general?”
“It’s about making sure Garst gets what he deserves.”
“But you can’t hold one man accountable for the injustices of history.”
“Not all of them.” She tilted her head back and fixed her small, shrewd eyes on Dinah. “Have you ever heard of the Great Mehele?”
“No.”
“In eighteen-hundred-and-forty-five, King Kamehameha proclaimed that foreigners would be allowed to purchase land that had been set aside for the Hawaiian monarchy. Fifty years later, foreigners owned ninety percent of our islands.”
“I can empathize, Eleanor. Aboriginal peoples seem always to come out on the losing side of history. But you can’t dwell on the past. Xander Garst isn’t a foreigner. He’s an American and so are you.”
She snorted. “And we simple savages should be grateful that a hundred years after America ousts our queen and steals our land, Bill Clinton signed an Apology Resolution?”
Dinah bristled. “As you say, it was a hundred years ago and one more housing development in this day and age doesn’t warrant the extra effort you’re putting into your anti-Garst campaign. This is personal. What did the man ever do to you?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Claude Ann said you believe there are bones buried on the property. The bones of an old king. Is that what this is about? Was this king one of your ancestors?”
“You just tell Garst that Uwahi is wahi pana. You tell him this time he’s going to pay.”
Ordinarily, Dinah tended to side with the natives and the less powerful. But in this case, Eleanor was the one who came off sounding intimidating and prejudiced and Xander who seemed the underdog. It occurred to her that Eleanor might be trying to shake him down for money. “If you expect me to pass along your warning, you’d better tell me what wahi pana is and how much money you want from him.”
“Now I tink you not so akamai. You jus’ remembah one word. Pash. He’ll know. He’ll know what he gotta answer for Bumbye.”
The growling rancor in her voice sent a chill down Dinah’s spine. She tried to imagine what would engender such hatred. Xander said that Uwahi was part of a volcanic flow. Had there been some recent breakthrough of lava? Had someone fallen into a steam vent? “Did this Pash you mention, or Bumbye, get injured on the property? Did someone die?”
She answered with a snort of majestic disdain. “You care ‘bout yo friend, you tell her dat kane Garst bring her trouble. Akahele.” Her mouth quirked up in a nasty half-smile. “That means she’d better beware what she’s getting into, Dinah Pelerin. And so had you.” Whereupon, she rose up from the chair like an evil jinn and lumbered off down the beach, her awesome hips undulating hula-like beneath the muumuu.
Chapter Seven
Dinah hastened back to the lobby. She felt as if she’d had a visitation from the Spirit of Prophecy and the portent was not good.
Bumbye. Was it a person, one of Eleanor’s children, perhaps? Or maybe it was a place or a holy shrine to Pele. After the warm beach, the air-conditioned lobby felt like a refrigerator. She stood fidgeting at the front desk while the receptionist reviewed a bill with a peevish guest. Should she ask the hotel to telephone the
Her glower softened. “We Native Hawaiians have received the same benefits from the haoles as the Native Americans—death from the measles and smallpox, subversion of our customs and our religion, and the appropriation and occupation of our land.”
Whoa! So Eleanor could shift registers at will. Dinah’s curiosity intensified. Did she use the pidgin dialect to maintain street cred with the locals, or as a guise to make people like Xander think she was ignorant and controllable? “Is your quarrel with Xander Garst about a single housing development or Native Rights in general?”
“It’s about making sure Garst gets what he deserves.”
“But you can’t hold one man accountable for the injustices of history.”
“Not all of them.” She tilted her head back and fixed her small, shrewd eyes on Dinah. “Have you ever heard of the Great Mehele?”
“No.”
“In eighteen-hundred-and-forty-five, King Kamehameha proclaimed that foreigners would be allowed to purchase land that had been set aside for the Hawaiian monarchy. Fifty years later, foreigners owned ninety percent of our islands.”
“I can empathize, Eleanor. Aboriginal peoples seem always to come out on the losing side of history. But you can’t dwell on the past. Xander Garst isn’t a foreigner. He’s an American and so are you.”
She snorted. “And we simple savages should be grateful that a hundred years after America ousts our queen and steals our land, Bill Clinton signed an Apology Resolution?”
Dinah bristled. “As you say, it was a hundred years ago and one more housing development in this day and age doesn’t warrant the extra effort you’re putting into your anti-Garst campaign. This is personal. What did the man ever do to you?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Claude Ann said you believe there are bones buried on the property. The bones of an old king. Is that what this is about? Was this king one of your ancestors?”
“You just tell Garst that Uwahi is wahi pana. You tell him this time he’s going to pay.”
Ordinarily, Dinah tended to side with the natives and the less powerful. But in this case, Eleanor was the one who came off sounding intimidating and prejudiced and Xander who seemed the underdog. It occurred to her that Eleanor might be trying to shake him down for money. “If you expect me to pass along your warning, you’d better tell me what wahi pana is and how much money you want from him.”
“Now I tink you not so akamai. You jus’ remembah one word. Pash. He’ll know. He’ll know what he gotta answer for Bumbye.”
The growling rancor in her voice sent a chill down Dinah’s spine. She tried to imagine what would engender such hatred. Xander said that Uwahi was part of a volcanic flow. Had there been some recent breakthrough of lava? Had someone fallen into a steam vent? “Did this Pash you mention, or Bumbye, get injured on the property? Did someone die?”
She answered with a snort of majestic disdain. “You care ‘bout yo friend, you tell her dat kane Garst bring her trouble. Akahele.” Her mouth quirked up in a nasty half-smile. “That means she’d better beware what she’s getting into, Dinah Pelerin. And so had you.” Whereupon, she rose up from the chair like an evil jinn and lumbered off down the beach, her awesome hips undulating hula-like beneath the muumuu.
Chapter Seven
Dinah hastened back to the lobby. She felt as if she’d had a visitation from the Spirit of Prophecy and the portent was not good.
Bumbye. Was it a person, one of Eleanor’s children, perhaps? Or maybe it was a place or a holy shrine to Pele. After the warm beach, the air-conditioned lobby felt like a refrigerator. She stood fidgeting at the front desk while the receptionist reviewed a bill with a peevish guest. Should she ask the hotel to telephone the
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