The Green Room by Deborah Turrell Atkinson Read Free Book Online

didn’t know whether Barstow was referring to his marriage or the local culture.

Chapter Seven
    Robbie was the first one up, which didn’t happen very often. “C’mon, it starts at eight.”
    â€œIt’s seven,” Leila yawned. “And it’s the only day I get to sleep in.”
    Leila owned a very popular bakery, and most weekdays she was in the shop at four a.m. so that succulent-smelling goodies were ready for the downtown professionals when they arrived at their offices. By eight a.m., Leila’s place was standing room only, and that’s what people did. They stood, talked story, and had a sticky bun or warm malassada or two with their lattes. She loved sleeping in on the weekends.
    Storm poured coffee into mugs while Hamlin got the milk and sugar out.
    â€œUh oh, ants in the sugar,” he said, and poked at the open box. He leaned against the countertop in a way that told Storm his leg bothered him again. He’d hate it if she said anything about it, though.
    â€œSlam it on the counter a few times and they’ll run away,” Storm said. “Then transfer it to a jar with a lid. Ants are always in beach houses.”
    Leila poured cereal into a bowl and handed it to Robbie. “Mister, you don’t go anywhere until you eat breakfast.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Storm reassured him. “You’ve got time. What heat are Nahoa and Ben surfing?”
    â€œNahoa’s in the last heat, but Goober’s in the first,” Robbie said. “Ben’s in the next-to-last heat. We’ve got to hurry—it’s already the semi-finals.”
    â€œFour guys in a heat, right?” Hamlin asked.
    â€œYeah,” Robbie said. “The first and second guys in the heats are the only ones to make the finals.” He gulped his cereal down.
    â€œHas anyone checked the surf report?” Storm asked. They could all hear the ocean breaking a hundred yards from the front door, and it sounded louder than it had yesterday. It had wakened Storm a couple of times during the night, though she hadn’t had the dream. Maybe the surf session yesterday had helped alleviate her fear of helplessness in the water.
    Sunset Beach wasn’t a long drive, but Kamehameha Highway moved like the Ala Moana Shopping Center parking lot on Christmas Eve. It not only took almost an hour to drive about eight miles, they had to park the car a half-mile from the meet. By the time they got to Sunset Beach, it was the middle of the third heat and Robbie was desperate to see how his new surf buddies were doing.
    â€œThere’s Goober.” The unusual turtle tattoo made him easy to pick out in the crowd. He stood a hundred yards away, holding binoculars on the four surfers nearly a half-mile out in the water.
    â€œIf you’ll take Robbie to find out what’s happening, I’ll find a spot in the shade,” Leila said, “or we’re going to be charbroiled by the end of the day.” She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, but freckles were already popping out across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.
    â€œI’ll stay with Leila. You guys can give us a report,” Hamlin said.
    â€œWe’ll be back as soon as we know what’s happening.” Storm and Robbie made their way through the spectators toward Goober, but Storm looked back when she thought Hamlin wouldn’t notice. Yes, he was limping more than he had been yesterday. He’d curtailed his physical therapy three weeks earlier than his doctors had recommended, and Storm worried because he pushed himself harder than the physical therapists had. He’d already increased his daily walks from one mile to three.
    A too-familiar surge of regret flushed through Storm. She and Hamlin had been the lucky ones in the incident that brought down the once-austere law firm of Hamasaki, Cunningham, Wang, and Wo. Miles Hamasaki, her guardian and mentor, had been murdered, another of his