My Kind of Town
My Kind of Town
What’s the question?
>> Queen's Medical Center
Now that there were three Ah Suns who shared the truth of what happened on that night in Waimanalo 21 years ago, Quinn Ah Sun could hardly wait to make it four. He reached for the phone beside his bed, punched in Lily's cell number. She answered on the third ring.
"My dad just left, Lil. He told me everything."
"I'm finishing up with my mom." In fact they were in her teal BMW parked in the circular parking structure reapplying makeup because after their truth-and-tears session both their faces resembled kindergarten finger paintings, all streaks and swirls. "Then I'm on my way. Love you!"
"This is going to take some adjusting to, you and Quinn," Grace Ah Sun said, putting her lipstick in her purse. "My nephew becomes my son-in-law."
"We all have a lot of reality adjustment to do. Quinn said he just spoke with Uncle Mits and he came clean about everything."
"I'm not sure I want to know everything, Lily. I've got a pretty good idea of what happened, but ... you and Quinn, keep it between yourselves."
"We need to know the truth."
"I understand. And your father ..."
"I'm not going to say anything to him about this. At least not now after he's just had a heart attack."
"Thank you. Even then ..."
Grace's cell phone rang then and she fished it out of her purse. "Oh, hello, Daddy ... Yes, she's right here. We were just talking ... I'll tell her. Bye ... Love you too."
Grace put the phone away, turned to Lily. "That was your father. He'd like to see you as soon as possible."
"Is he OK?"
"Sounded chipper as can be. Said he has some news for you. And a question."
Lily was anxious to see Quinn again, and not just to hear what Uncle Mits had confided. She wanted another hug, another kiss. But she was curious about her father's message. What news? What question?
When Lily and Grace entered Sheets' room in the cardiac unit, the aroma of eucalyptus and sea spray lingered, and they knew Ho'ola, goddess of life, had recently visited.
Sheets got right to the point. "I've been thinking, Lily. You know that proposal you gave me the other day, to reorganize the Soap Company? The more I think about it, the more I like it. After this heart attack, I know I need to cut back. I need some help, somebody to run things for me.
"And since Laird showed us what an idiot he is by going off to Afghanistan, well, Lily, it occurs to me that out of you three kids, you're the one most like me and ..."
Lily's heart was pounding with anticipation. "So what's the question?!"
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com