thicket. I was beginning to understand very well why a girl Deirdre’s age should need a housekeeper to care for her husband’s estate. But she had also lived for years in exclusive schools with no parental guidance and no authority beyond that of the busy and indifferent courts. She had no way of knowing how to handle this kind of situation.
I forced my thoughts to a more cheerful direction.
“Here we are, Miss Cameron,” Moku announced with a magnificent gesture of welcome.
From the long, shallow veranda I stepped through a small entry into a living room that occupied the west front of the old wooden house. Sandalwood must have been a splendid house at the turn of the century when such Victorian structures were still much admired. The high walls were beautifully papered in a green-and-gold motif of pagodas and exquisite Oriental figures. Curiously enough, both mandarins and willowy Japanese females in kimonos and huge obis appeared along the walls. I wondered whose idea that was. Although well cared for, the wallpaper appeared very old and probably could never be duplicated. The room was so long and elaborately furnished, I suspected it was only used for parties, perhaps in conjunction with luaus out in the area in front of the house. Nor was it well lighted at this moment—there was just one hanging lamp in the shape of a Japanese lantern on a chain at the far end of the room to give us any light.
Dr. Nagata took my arm, and I followed Kalanimoku through the dark, narrow central hall. Suddenly, a door near the far end of the hall opened from a lighted room. An extraordinary silhouette appeared in that light, which cast a deep bar of brightness across the mat carpeting the hall floor. What appeared to be a gigantic red hibiscus bush stood there staring at us, expressionless. This woman in the hibiscus-flowered holoku was nearly six feet tall and must have weighed well over two hundred pounds—she looked solid and regal. Her heavy black hair was worn severely back from a forbidding and intelligent wide forehead. The chocolate-colored eyes, darkly outlined, reminded me of a magnificent cobra who had once out-stared me in a San Francisco aquarium.
I whispered to Ito, “Someone out of Captain Cook’s journals?”
“She’s mighty important among the purebloods across the island. Stephen borrowed her to run things until you could get here. She did it as a favor, but she is no servant.” Then, he called loudly, “Good evening, Ilima. This is Miss Cameron, Mrs. Giles’s aunt, who is going to take some of that load off your shoulders. Judith, Ilima is Moku’s wife, the queen of Ili-Ahi, and one of the last descendants of Queen Liliuokalani’s family.”
I can’t say I was reassured by this information. My knees had a strong inclination to sink in a curtsy, which I would have been expected to perform, had I been in Hawaii in 1893 when the last queen was deposed for American political expediency. I worked up a wide smile and was grateful when I saw the flash of her large, even teeth when she greeted me.
“I am glad to meet you, Miss Cameron. You have arrived in very good time to help us. It is fortunate that you are a mature woman. You will perhaps know what to do.”
I looked to Ito Nagata for an explanation, but I could see that this was a mystery to him as well. Mrs. Moku offered her hand which I took quickly.
“You will want your baggage taken to your quarters first, Miss Cameron, and will perhaps wish to change your shoes.”
This last puzzled me considerably, but she led me away from Ito and the huge butler, her husband.
I caught a glimpse of tree tops and enormous leaves beyond the lower floor lanai before she ushered me up the stairs to the room assigned to me. Throughout the house I noticed the odd odor of dampness, wet leaves, decomposition, mud, and then, unexpectedly again, the strong scent of tropic flowers. Fortunately, I had also the delicious and comforting odor of the flower leis Ito had