The Aloha Quilt (15 page)

“We’ll be safe inside by then,” Claire assured Bonnie, explaining that she planned
to throw a private Halloween party for their guests on the lanai, complete with delicious
treats from Midori’s kitchen and beautiful music courtesy of her nephew’s band.

“Hinano will play for us here?” asked Bonnie.

“We didn’t ask him because he’s Midori’s nephew,” Claire hastened to add. “He’s exceptionally
good.”

“Oh, I know,” Bonnie said. “I’ve heard him. A little. I’ve been looking forward to
hearing more.”

But of course, she wouldn’t have the opportunity to sit down and enjoy his performance.
She would be busy working, helping Claire and Midori run the party. She would probably
spend most of the evening in the kitchen. It was hardly worth finding herself a costume.

Claire apparently thought otherwise, for after tidying the kitchen from breakfast
on Halloween morning, she invited Bonnie to the office and surprised her with a garment
bag. “What’s this?” asked Bonnie warily.

Claire was almost dancing with excitement. “It’s your costume, of course. You can’t
host a Halloween party without a costume, and I know you didn’t bring one from home.”

Bonnie unzipped the garment bag and discovered a flowing dress made from a white,
silky fabric that shimmered like snow in sunlight. Attached to the hanger was a girdle
trimmed in
gold cord and a golden bangle to wear around her upper arm.

“I have a pair of gold sandals you can borrow,” said Claire, beaming eagerly.

“So… what am I supposed to be?” asked Bonnie, dubious. “Some sort of Greek goddess?”

“Not just any Greek goddess.” From behind her back, Claire produced a small plush
owl with large eyes and a surprised expression that was probably meant to convey intelligence.
“Pin this to your shoulder and you become Athena, the goddess of wisdom. It’s perfect
for you. You’re the wisest woman I know, and you’ll look gorgeous in this dress.”

Bonnie didn’t feel particularly wise as she smothered a laugh and accepted the owl.
“Don’t you think I should be Hera? Wasn’t she the protector of marriage, even though
Zeus cheated on her all the time? Or maybe
because
he cheated on her all the time.”

Claire dismissed that with a wave. “Athena was also the goddess of military victory
and the goddess of crafts. She invented all kinds of important tools and musical instruments,
and she was also in charge of women’s arts like weaving, cooking, and spinning.”

“And quilting?”

“If they had quilting in ancient Greece, I’m sure it fell under her jurisdiction.”

“All right, then, I’ll be Athena.” Bonnie tucked the toy owl into the garment bag
and zipped it shut. “Who are you going to be? Aphrodite?”

“No, I thought that would be too obvious. I’m going to be a Penn State cheerleader.
Eric’s going as a basketball player, and you know I’m his most devoted fan.”

From late morning through the afternoon, Midori, Claire, and Bonnie worked in the
kitchen and on the lanai, preparing for the party. Once Bonnie had to run out to the
grocery store, and to her surprise, the town looked almost as it did on any other
day, with little sign of the festivities to come except for a few city workers setting
up booths around Courthouse Square. She had prepared herself for long lines of cars
pulling into parking lots, early risers staking out prime spots on the parade route,
and tourists racing from store to store searching for essential costume accessories
they had forgotten to pack. Apparently the storm of activity would strike all at once
later that day, just as Midori had forecast.

Bonnie was so busy that she barely had time to call her kids and grandkids to wish
them a happy Halloween, much less try on her costume. She hoped it would fit well,
and if it did, that people would have a chance to admire it before she spilled something
on herself, the inevitable consequence of wearing a white dress in a kitchen.

When she finally reached her younger son on his cell phone, Barry was hurrying to
get ready to meet his friends at a Halloween party, where he had been assured there
would be a keg and lots of “hot girls” in skimpy costumes.

“Halloween is awesome,” he enthused, almost dropping the phone in his rush out the
door. “Girls love having an excuse to dress sexy in public without being considered—well,
you know.”

Bonnie wasn’t sure she knew and wasn’t sure she wanted to. “Maybe you should stay
home and pass out candy to trick-or-treaters instead.”

Barry laughed, though Bonnie had been at least half serious. “Oh, I forgot,” he said.
“Dad asked me to give you a message.”

Bonnie’s heart thumped. “When did he call?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe a week ago?”

Before his trip to Penn State to meet Terri, then. “What did he want?”

“He asked you to please stop refusing to divide stuff equally. What’s up with that,
Mom? You were always telling us kids to share things fairly and now you won’t do it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bonnie exclaimed. “I’m the one who wanted a fifty-fifty split.
It’s your father who insists upon—” She forced herself to stop. “I shouldn’t discuss
this with you. Your father and I will resolve this through our lawyers.”

“Why don’t you just talk to him, Mom? I know he misses you.”

Barry could be so oblivious sometimes. “Honey, he doesn’t, and that isn’t the point.
You’re just going to have to trust me on this. And remember—”

“I know, I know. Don’t tell him how to reach you.”

“No matter how hard he begs or threatens or whatever.”

“I know.” Barry sighed heavily and said he had to go. Reluctantly, Bonnie left it
at that and wished him a happy Halloween, unable to resist adding a reminder to be
careful. Barry had always seemed to need the reminder more than his brother and sister.

Bonnie, Claire, and Midori finished all but the last-minute preparations with time
to spare, so Claire suggested they put on their costumes and join the celebration
outside. Midori had seen enough Halloweens in Lahaina that she preferred to remain
behind, but Claire insisted Bonnie accompany her. Bonnie hurried upstairs to change,
eager to take in the spectacle. She slipped the silky dress over her head, fastened
the girdle snug around her waist, put on the arm bangle, pinned
the stuffed owl to her shoulder, and slid her feet into the borrowed sandals. As she
went to the bathroom to brush her hair, she stopped short at the sight of herself
in the mirror. The cut of the dress complemented her curves, nipping in her waist
and emphasizing her generous bosom. Maybe too generous, and maybe too much emphasis.
She tugged the bodice into a slightly more modest arrangement, but as soon as she
reached for the hairbrush, everything fell back into place. It would have to do, Bonnie
told herself after a few more useless adjustments. Besides, with all of the scantily
clad twenty-somethings out there, no one would be looking at her.

She ran the brush through her short, dark locks, touched up her makeup, and peered
at her face in the mirror. The color of the fabric made her skin positively glow in
a way it hadn’t in years, or maybe it was a trick of the twilight. The wide-eyed plush
owl on her shoulder looked as surprised as she felt. She shook her head, set down
the brush, and hurried downstairs to meet Claire. She should have made an appointment
with her ophthalmologist before leaving home. Her vision was obviously going south.
Next stop, bifocals.

“You look radiant,” gushed Claire, watching from the foyer as Bonnie descended the
stairs.

“Me? Look at you,” Bonnie exclaimed, taking in her friend’s bouncy light brown ponytail
and blue-and-white cheerleader’s uniform complete with pom-poms. “You should be on
the sidelines of Beaver Stadium. With those legs, you could pass for an undergrad.
Can you still do a back handspring?”

“My handspringing days are long gone,” said Claire, taking something from the bamboo
credenza. “As for you, your costume needs only one last touch.” Smiling, she placed
a light wreath of greenery on Bonnie’s head.

“Laurel?” asked Bonnie, touching the leaves carefully. It
was wonderfully fragrant, reminiscent of vanilla and fresh woodland air, sweet and
spicy and woodsy all at once.

“It’s called
maile
.” Claire’s eyes danced with merriment as she slipped her arm through Bonnie’s and
led her from the inn and down Front Street. “I’ve missed dressing you up for a night
out.”

“I’ve missed your fashion sense,” Bonnie admitted. “Speaking of fashion, I love what
that bride across the street is wearing. I never thought to accessorize a wedding
gown with a machete through the chest and a gallon of fake blood, but on her it works.”

The gory bride was only the first and not even the most noteworthy of the quirky costumes
they saw during their stroll down Front Street and around Courthouse Square. Amidst
the plethora of superheroes, monsters, Elizabethan royalty, and pirates, they spotted
a giant piece of candy corn, a Rubik’s Cube, a sparkling disco ball, and a great white
shark with a mannequin’s legs dangling from the mouth. Bonnie’s favorites were the
group costumes, especially the four men dressed as Mount Rushmore in white face paint,
white wigs, and an elaborate, papier-mâché mountain.

Impossible to ignore were the legion of couples in costume—Romeo and Juliet, Fred
and Wilma Flintstone, Marc Antony and Cleopatra, Adam and Eve wearing little more
than leis and fig leaves, and a fly swatter and fly. Bonnie and Craig had never coordinated
their costumes for Halloween, not even for fraternity parties when all their friends
and their dates did. On one painful, memorable trip to Penn State, Craig had even
complained about wearing the matching Nittany Lions sweatshirts Bonnie had bought
them for the last home game of the season. He wore it because she hadn’t packed him
an alternative, but he groused all through breakfast at the College Avenue Diner,
spoiling her appetite. While he paid the check, Bonnie had hurried back to their hotel
room to change, trying not to mind that Craig apparently didn’t want anyone to realize
they were a couple.

But that was long ago and far away. In Lahaina, music filled the air, delicious smells
wafted from the food booths, and thousands of people laughed, shouted, people-watched,
and enjoyed every moment. Caught up in the celebration, Bonnie and Claire lost track
of time. Half-past eight found them sprinting back to the Hale Kapa Kuiki a mere half-hour
before their own private party was to begin.

“Back so soon?” Midori inquired dryly when they burst into the kitchen babbling apologies.
She had already filled the punch bowl and had begun setting out platters of food,
but there was much more to do and she quickly ordered Claire and Bonnie to it.

Bonnie snatched up a fruit tray and carried it out to the lanai, past the hired bartender
to a long buffet table where a few costumed early arrivals lingered hopefully. Midori
had wisely decided to keep plates and utensils covered until the last moment so that
no one dove in too early. “It won’t be much longer,” Bonnie assured the guests as
she found a place for her tray, but suddenly her attention was captured by a melodious
strum.

At the other end of the lanai, Hinano, Kai, and two other musicians were setting up
and tuning their instruments—ukulele, slack key guitar, bass, and drums. Kai tested
the microphones and joked with his father, who grinned as he plucked a few notes,
sweet and pure.

Instinctively Bonnie smoothed her goddess gown over her hips and adjusted her leafy
crown. She caught herself, chided herself, and got herself back into the kitchen.
“The band’s here,” she announced brightly.

“The band’s
been
here,” said Midori.

“I should go welcome them,” said Claire, wiping up a spill on the counter and draping
the towel over the sink. Glancing through the window from time to time as she arranged
shortbread cookies shaped like pineapples on a tiered tray, Bonnie glimpsed her friend
crossing the lanai and greeting the musicians like old friends. A few moments later,
Eric joined them clad in what looked to be an official Penn State basketball uniform.
When he put his arm around Claire’s shoulders with an unconscious, comfortable familiarity,
Claire instinctively drew closer to him. Bonnie smiled, but she suddenly became so
wistful that she had to turn away. She missed knowing that tenderness, that closeness
shared with a trusted, lifelong companion.

She missed it, but really, had she ever truly known it?