By James C. Clar
We sat on the sand and scrub grass and watched as the combers broke on the shore a few feet in front of us. The moon was full and what light there was had a cold, silvery sheen that gave everything an almost otherworldly glow.
“I’m going to have to sell,” Mayumi told me in her softly modulated voice. It was a beautiful blend of island lilt and harsher Japanese syllables. “There are problems with Brandon’s pension and he didn’t have much life insurance.”
My recently deceased best friend was a great father and husband. Like many hard core Polynesians, however, as a businessman he left a lot to be desired. Fortunately, their house was on a prime stretch of real estate above Kaalawai Beach between Diamond Head and Black Point.
“Don’t make any decisions right away,” I cautioned. “Besides, the kids have been through enough already. What they need now is stability.” Brandon and Mayumi had a thirteen-year-old daughter and a son who was seventeen. Their father’s sudden death had hit the children very hard. “We told you that, for the time being at least, we’d do whatever we can to help … and we meant it.” My wife and I spent almost ten weeks a year visiting from the Mainland. They were, basically, all the family we had.
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