House of the Hanging Jade (2 page)

O
ver the next two and a half weeks I packed, shipped the big things I didn't want to sell, and said my good-byes. Geoffrey still couldn't believe I was going.

“I didn't think you'd go through with it,” he said, half-smiling. “Washington is such an exciting place to live. I was sure you'd decide to stay.”

I shook my head, returning his small smile. “I know, but I really miss the Big Island. I miss my parents and the rest of my family. I miss the
weather
. I miss seeing the ocean when I drive down the road.”

“I guess I can't blame you for that.” He gave me a hug as I stood stiffly. “I'll miss you, Kailani.”

“I'll miss you too, Geoffrey,” I lied. “Take care.” I waved to him as I turned around and walked back to my apartment for the last time.

Early the next morning I was on a plane heading for Kona. It was a long flight, with two long layovers, and I finally arrived on the Big Island that night at eight o'clock. I was exhausted, still on Washington time, but I got my second wind as soon as I saw my family waiting for me by baggage claim. My parents and sister hugged me while my niece, Haliaka, jumped up and down, clapping her hands and laughing. I looked around me, breathing in the warm tropical air, and felt an enveloping sense of peace and belonging.

Though it cost me a small fortune, I had checked four bags. My father and sister helped me get them to the car while my mother held Haliaka's hand.

“All your other things arrived yesterday,” Mom said as we drove home in the darkness. “We put everything in the guest room for you.”

“When do you start work?” Dad asked.

“Later this week, but the day after tomorrow I'm going up to Ms. Merriweather-Jorgensen's house to have a look at the kitchen and my rooms.”

“The place must be pretty nice if they can afford a personal chef,” my sister piped up. “Do you think we can come and see it?”

“Probably. But not until I've worked there awhile.”

We all chatted happily on the way home, which was an hour south of the airport. When I stepped out of the car at my parents' house, I was wrapped in the same nostalgic feeling I always got when I returned home for a visit. The fragrance of flowers lightly scented the air, combining with the homey smell of the bread my parents baked for their bakery in outdoor ovens. The soft winds caressed my face and blew a few strands of my hair as I stood looking out over the blackness of the Pacific Ocean. I could hardly wait to see its bright blue waters in the morning.

I wasn't disappointed the following day when I woke up late, sitting up in bed to see the waves stretching out far below the guest-bedroom window. My parents' home was not on the shore, but on a slope that commanded sweeping views of the wooded hillside, black-sand beach, and the vast ocean beyond. The sun had risen high in the sky behind the house, but the yard was still in shadow. I could hear the birds as they sang riotously in the swaying trees outside the window. It was so good to be home.

I spent the day catching up with my parents and friends as I helped in the bakery, which had sold out of everything by mid-afternoon. Apparently my parents had told everyone they knew that I would be home, because neighbors, old friends, and acquaintances from nearby towns stopped by in a steady stream all day. It was wonderful to see everyone; it almost felt like I had never left.

The highlight of the day was when Liko, an old friend going all the way back to elementary school, dropped in to see me and to pick up a few
malasadas
for his family.

“Liko!” I yelled, running around the counter to give him a big hug. “You haven't changed at all!” He was medium height, barrel chested, with brown skin and long black hair. His arm and calves were wreathed in Polynesian tattoos. “How have you been?”

He grinned. “Pretty good. It's great to see you, K! How long you staying?”

“Forever!”

He beamed. “You got a job on the island?”

I nodded happily.

“Where you going to work?”

“Up the Kohala Coast, as a personal chef.”

He whistled. “Sounds great!”

“What have you been doing?”

“Got laid off from the elementary school. State didn't have enough money to pay Hawaiian-language teachers any longer. I'm looking for work.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'll let you know if I hear of anything,” I promised.

“Thanks.” He waved and left the shop.

Shortly after Liko left my parents decided to close the bakery for the rest of the day, since all the goodies were gone. They put me to work readying loaves to be baked and sold the next day.

The following morning I woke up early, still groggy with jet lag, and drove up the Kohala Coast to the Jorgensens' home. The drive was beautiful. It was warm, but I didn't want to use the air-conditioning in the car. I drove with the windows down, enjoying the feeling of the wind and sun on my skin. Looking out over the coast, I caught a glimpse of a whale tail slapping the surface of the water, likely a male performing part of his wintertime courtship ritual.

It took under three hours to drive to the outskirts of the small town where the Jorgensens lived. I was unprepared for the sight that met my eyes as I turned
makai
toward their home and drove downhill toward the ocean.

It was the only home in sight. From above the house on the road, all I could see were its expansive roofs, glinting brown in the sunlight. There appeared to be two or three levels; the house was probably built on a downhill gradient.

I finally reached a fork in the road. I could either veer to the left into a long driveway or right onto a small track toward the ocean. I took the left fork and drove through two enormous brown gates emblazoned with giant iron palm trees. The driveway, with its neat split-rail fences, wound through lush tropical gardens of palm trees,
monstera
, Hawaiian snowbush, Song of India, and ti trees. I glimpsed midnight jasmine, red ginger, and hibiscus. Marveling at the growth that was possible with a sprinkler system on the west coast of the Big Island, I pulled in front of a four-stall garage and got out of the car.

The house was on my right. I walked to the front door through a breezeway that straddled a huge rectangular koi pond. A pergola laden with hanging jade covered the breezeway; large orange, white, and black koi fish swam lazily in its shade. To my left and one level below me I could glimpse the pool, surrounded by chaise lounges. I raised my hand to grasp the huge ring that I supposed was the door knocker when the door swung noiselessly open.

“You must be Kailani,” said the young woman who stood in the doorway. “I'm Akela, one of the housekeepers. Come on in.”

Akela stood back, holding the door open as I stepped into the cool foyer. I took off my shoes and left them by the front door, as was the custom in Hawaii, then turned around and followed her down a short hallway that was open to the garden along the back of the house. The coolness of the tumbled marble floor felt good on my bare feet. When we reached the end of the hallway, the house opened up suddenly and I was treated to a magnificent view of the aquamarine Pacific Ocean and the island of Maui rising from the horizon.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jorgensen are out right now, so I'll be happy to show you around,” said Akela with a smile.

I couldn't take my eyes off the view. Akela laughed. “Isn't that amazing? Everyone has that reaction when they first come in here.”

“This is incredible! The water is so close!”

“The original owners of the house actually had to pay a fine because they built too close to the water.”

“I can believe it.”

“Come on, I'll show you your suite first.”

I followed Akela through a large living area, then into the kitchen, which looked well-equipped but a bit small for such a large house. Akela turned to me and said, “You can have a look in here in just a sec. First, let me show you where your bedroom is.”

We went through a door at the end of the kitchen and into a spacious den furnished with tropical rattan furniture. Akela pointed to two doors against the side wall of the room.

“The door on the right is the bathroom and the door on the left is your bedroom.”

We walked across the den and she opened the bedroom door. It too was furnished in understated tropical prints and had a beautiful rattan four-poster bed, dresser, and nightstand. A large window looked out over lush gardens that sloped toward a
pali
, a small cliff of jagged black lava rock that protected the house from the rising tides. The Pacific sparkled in the warm sunshine.

“Why don't you take a look around the kitchen now?” she asked. “I'll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes to show you the rest of the house.”

After I thanked her and she left, I made my way back to the kitchen and started getting acquainted with my new workspace. The room was rectangular and long, but narrow. The appliances were restaurant-quality, with stainless-steel finishes and touch-pad controls. The counters, made of black granite, were shining and immaculate. Two oblong windows gave anyone in the kitchen a breathtaking view, similar to the one in my bedroom.

The ocean was below me and about 150 feet away. The white waves curled as they broke close to shore, dashing rhythmically against the base of the
pali
.

I finally tore myself away from the view and started looking through the cabinets and drawers. I found everything from gleaming pots and pans to hand-thrown pottery to serving vessels and ceramic dishes for everyday use. There was one drawer full of fun kitchen gadgets, like an immersion blender and a tofu press. I couldn't wait to start using some of those toys!

Akela poked her head in the kitchen. “What do you think?”

“Everything I could ever need is in here!”

“You ready to see the rest of the house?”

She led me out of the kitchen and toward the back of the house, away from the water.

We walked along the corridor that was open to the gardens on the
mauka
side of the house and to the large living area on the
makai
side. A soft breeze blew down the hall, ushering in the scent of
kiele
flowers. We passed a wine cellar, which Akela informed me was quite extensive, then she walked through a wide doorway on our right and we were in a large office, again facing the front of the house and the ocean.

“This is Mr. Jorgensen's office,” Akela said with a sweep of her arm.

It looked like the entire office had been paneled with koa wood. The walls, cabinets, and desk were the rich burled caramel color of the rare and precious wood, gleaming in the midday sunlight. A sitting area consisting of three rattan chairs and a round glass-topped table completed the contemporary look of the office. Two huge shadow boxes hung on the walls. One held a latte-colored T-shirt with a
Kaimana
logo on the breast and the other contained an aloha shirt patterned with tropical vines and flowers, also with the
Kaimana
logo on the sleeve.

“Does Mr. Jorgensen surf?” I asked, knowing that clothes with the
Kaimana
logo were popular among island surfers.

“He loves it.”

“He must like
Kaimana
stuff,” I noted with a smile.

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Likes it? He owns it.”

I was surprised. “Mr. Jorgensen owns the
Kaimana
Company?”

She nodded. “Founder, president, and owner. He's out surfing now, I'm sure.”

No wonder the house was so amazing.
Kaimana
was a favorite among surfers, who were known for their fierce brand loyalty.

I followed Akela out of the office and onto the lanai, where we stood facing the water.

“How do you get any work done here?” I asked.

“It isn't easy,” Akela said with a laugh.

I followed her along the lanai, which seemed to run the entire length of the house, to a large covered seating area. It contained a dining table and ten chairs, a huge daybed with batik coverings and pillows, a comfortable-looking sofa and matching armchairs, several occasional tables, lots of large potted tropical plants, and a small wet bar.

“Is this where the family eats dinner?”

“Most nights, yes. Once in a while they eat in a small dining room on the other side of the kitchen.”

“Have the Jorgensens always had a personal chef?”

“As long as I've been here. The last one left about a month ago.”

“Why did she leave?” I knew I was being nosy, but I couldn't help asking.

“He. And it was because he hated working for Mrs. Jorgensen. But you didn't hear that from me.” Akela grinned.

“Uh-oh.”

“I wouldn't worry about it. You'll probably get along with her much better than he did.”

“I hope so.”

I followed Akela down the length of the lanai. She stopped at an open doorway and gestured inside. “This is Justine's room. She's the Jorgensens' daughter and she's a sweetheart. You'll like her. You probably don't really need to know where her room is, but I figured you ought to know your way around the house.”

I nodded, looking in and noting more beautiful koa furnishings and light pink, girly accents. Akela continued to the end of the lanai and turned a corner. This side of the lanai overlooked the pool, guesthouse, and more gardens. She stopped and indicated another open doorway. “This is Marcus's room. He's the Jorgensens' son. Your typical teenage boy. Again, you probably don't need to know all this, but this is just to give you an idea.” I peeked in the doorway. More koa furniture, this time decorated in navy blue. Clearly a masculine bedroom.