Lana'i of the Tiger (The Islands of Aloha Mystery Series) by JoAnn Bassett

enough to even buy a decent
wedding cake. 
    “No problem. Let me get you a credit
card.” He dug around in his wallet and pulled out a black American Express
Card. “Just give it back when you’re done. I hardly use that one anyway.”
    “Uh, I hope the local merchants
will accept this. I mean, it has your name on it.”
    “Hang on. I’ll do what I do with
my assistant back home.” He took out a business card and scribbled something on
the back.
    I looked at the card. It said, Penny
Morton OK to use T Benson Amex card. Call if ?
    “Great. You and Deedee go get
your marriage license tomorrow and after that’s taken care of, you won’t need
to worry about anything else. Oh, but you should plan to be here at least an
hour before the ceremony so the photographer can do the posed photos.”
    “Thanks so much, Penny. You have
no idea how much I appreciate you doing all this.” He took my hand but instead
of shaking it, he gave it a little squeeze. “And I’m sure Deedee feels the
same.”
    ***
    On Monday morning, Tyler left
the White Orchid at nine to pick up Deedee and head off to Honolulu for their
marriage license. I wondered if he was concerned about being recognized in the
big city, but I didn’t mention it. After all, he lived in Southern California.
He must have had of plenty of experience dodging the paparazzi.
    I spent an hour on the bed and
breakfast’s phone line setting up the last of the essentials. I arranged for a justice
of the peace to fly over from Honolulu, and I hired a local photographer from
the Lana’i Times who claimed he was the best on the island. I called a video
guy from Honolulu to come over and record the ceremony. I didn’t tell him he’d
be shooting for a Hollywood big-shot. I figured that could go one of two ways.
Either he’d freak out and refuse to do it, or he’d bring a resumé and a promo
reel and spend his time trying to land a job in Hollywood.
    I hung up and walked down to a local
café. On the phone, the owner had asked me to come in to discuss catering the
tiny reception. By the time I left, he’d promised to supply extra-fancy pu-pu platters and pour the champagne after the ceremony. I asked him where I might
find someone to provide music. He recommended a slack-key guitar player who
lived on Moloka’i. When I called the guitar player, the guy offered to bring
along his teenage daughter. I politely declined.
    Later, when I went back to pay
the deposit on the catering, I thanked the café owner for the musician
referral. 
     “Is he bringing his daughter?”
he asked.
     “No, it’s only a small wedding.
We don’t need a vocalist.”
    The guy looked stricken. “You
for real? His daughter’s Kaikala Wainwright. She’s only fourteen, but she’s got
the voice of an angel. Everybody around here will think you’re nuts if you
don’t let her sing.”
    I went back to the White Orchid
and called the guitar player in Moloka’i to request that he bring along his
angel-voiced daughter after all.
    “If you don’t want her to come,
no worries,” he said.
    “No, I’m sorry. I was mistaken
when we talked earlier. I didn’t realize the bridal couple wanted a soloist,
but they do.”
    “She’s a real good girl.
Planning to be a veterinarian. You know, first she goes to college, then to vet
school. It takes the same amount of time as medical school, and it costs almost
the same. She’ll probably have to go to the mainland to do that.”
    I could tell where this was
heading.
    “We can pay your daughter up to
fifty dollars, plus her airfare.”
    “On Maui they usually pay her a
hundred.”
    “This is a really small wedding.
Only seven people.”
    “Well then, how about seventy
dollars? I’m sure after those people hear Kaikala sing they’ll agree it was
worth ten dollars each.”
    We struck a deal.
    By noon, I had almost everything
wrapped up except a cake. Back on Maui, I worked exclusively with one wedding
cake supplier, Keahou’s Bakery in Kula. I