Her Hawaiian Homecoming (Mills & Boon Superromance) by Cara Lockwood Page A

magnificent flower growing like an ordinary marigold.
    She rapped hard on the door. Seconds later, a heavyset woman with warm eyes and thick black hair, a silver streak running through it, opened the screen door. Allie recognized the familiar smile. She wore her same old flowered muumuu with a shiny dark macadamia-nut necklace. Besides the streaks of gray in her hair, she had aged little in twenty years.
    “Aloha,” she said in greeting.
    “Aloha.” Allie smiled. “I’m Allie Osaka. Misu Osaka’s granddaughter? Remember me?”
    “Aah... Uh... Ōlelo Hawai’i ’oe? ”
    Allie blinked at the woman. Was she speaking Hawaiian?
    “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
    “Ōlelo Hawai’i ’oe?” the woman repeated, looking at Allie expectantly. Allie shook her head and spread her hands.
    “Do you speak English?” Allie asked her, wondering if the woman only spoke Hawaiian. Was that even possible? She didn’t remember that before, but then her memory was spotty.
    “A’ole no e law aka makaukau ma ho’okahi wale no olelo.”
    Now Allie was completely lost. Kaimana held up one finger, the international sign for “wait” and then disappeared back inside her house. She came back a few minutes later with a bag of her grandmother’s coffee.
    “Kona coffee?” Allie asked, pointing to the cup and then to the trees behind her.
    Kaimana nodded. “Kona,” she repeated, and pointed to the row of coffee trees behind her as she handed her the open ziplock bag. She smelled it and was immediately reminded of her father. He’d always smelled like fresh roasted coffee.
    “Uh... Mahalo .” Allie knew the Hawaiian word for thank you. That and aloha were the extent of her Hawaiian language skills.
    “A’ole pilikia,” Kaimana said.
    “Mmm,” she murmured, inhaling.
    Kaimana nodded, as if she knew this already. Allie felt hopeful then. Maybe she did understand English.
    Allie held the bag, wondering what it would taste like brewed. She should’ve made more of an effort to know her grandmother, to know her coffee. But it had been so expensive. Kaimana watched her, smiling all the while.
    Then she disappeared back inside her house and soon reappeared, carrying a teak bowl filled with hibiscus flowers and a half-strung lei. She bustled out to the porch and sank down on a wooden rocking chair, motioning for Allie to sit in the other. She began stringing the lei while Allie held the coffee, wondering what to do next.
    Nearby, bright-colored birds chirped, and a warm breeze blew, rattling the delicate glass wind chimes hanging from Kaimana’s porch. They made a high tinkling sound.
    “Ms. Mahi’ai...”
    “Kaimana,” she interrupted, pointing at herself.
    “Yes, uh...Kaimana, I’m not sure if you understand me, but my grandma Misu...”
    “Misu,” Kaimana repeated and nodded.
    “Yes, Misu. She left me the coffee plantation, but I need to sell it. Misu wanted me to get your permission before I did that and...”
    Kaimana’s face looked blank as she strung flowers on the lei.
    Allie realized none of what she was saying was going in. She barreled on anyway.
    “I need you to sign this paper, please.” Allie reached in her back pocket and pulled out the folded slip as well as the ballpoint pen she’d stashed there. She pretended to write with the pen on the paper and pointed to Kaimana afterward. “You. Sign?”
    Kaimana made no move to pick up the paper. Instead, she finished looping the last flower on the string and expertly tied it, her brown fingers working nimbly. She held it up for Allie to inspect and said, “Nani?”
    Allie had no idea what she meant, so she just nodded. “Uh... Nani .” And nodded again.
    “Ko Aloha Makamae E Ipo,” Kaimana said, smiling, as she stood and draped the lei around Allie’s neck. It was beautiful and soft, emanating a sweet, tropical fragrance.
    “Oh, I couldn’t accept this.”
    Kaimana shook her head and put up her hands, showing she wouldn’t take it back. “Nau