didnât know whether Barstow was referring to his marriage or the local culture.
Chapter Seven
Robbie was the first one up, which didnât happen very often. âCâmon, it starts at eight.â
âItâs seven,â Leila yawned. âAnd itâs the only day I get to sleep in.â
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., Leilaâs place was standing room only, and thatâs 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.
âUh oh, ants in the sugar,â he said, and poked at the open box. He leaned against the countertop in a way that told Storm his leg bothered him again. Heâd hate it if she said anything about it, though.
âSlam it on the counter a few times and theyâll run away,â Storm said. âThen transfer it to a jar with a lid. Ants are always in beach houses.â
Leila poured cereal into a bowl and handed it to Robbie. âMister, you donât go anywhere until you eat breakfast.â
âDonât worry,â Storm reassured him. âYouâve got time. What heat are Nahoa and Ben surfing?â
âNahoaâs in the last heat, but Gooberâs in the first,â Robbie said. âBenâs in the next-to-last heat. Weâve got to hurryâitâs already the semi-finals.â
âFour guys in a heat, right?â Hamlin asked.
âYeah,â Robbie said. âThe first and second guys in the heats are the only ones to make the finals.â He gulped his cereal down.
âHas anyone checked the surf report?â 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 hadnât had the dream. Maybe the surf session yesterday had helped alleviate her fear of helplessness in the water.
Sunset Beach wasnât 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.
âThereâs Goober.â 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.
âIf youâll take Robbie to find out whatâs happening, Iâll find a spot in the shade,â Leila said, âor weâre going to be charbroiled by the end of the day.â She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, but freckles were already popping out across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.
âIâll stay with Leila. You guys can give us a report,â Hamlin said.
âWeâll be back as soon as we know whatâs happening.â Storm and Robbie made their way through the spectators toward Goober, but Storm looked back when she thought Hamlin wouldnât notice. Yes, he was limping more than he had been yesterday. Heâd 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. Heâd 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