Read an Excerpt
Kona Winds
The Americana Series: Hawaii
By Janet Dailey OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1979 Janet Dailey
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4976-1844-2
CHAPTER 1
THE CAR TIRES crunched over the narrow, snow-packed street emptied of traffic by the late midnight hour. Warm air blasted from the heating vents inside the car, but it couldn't hold back the invading cold from outside.
"Brrr! I wish I were back in sunny California." Julie Lancaster clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.
"It's only the first of January. Winter has just begun," warned Marilyn Stuart, who was driving.
"Don't remind me!" Julie snuggled deeper in her heavy parka and moved her chilled feet in a more direct line to the heating vent blowing on the floorboards.
A native Californian, Julie had lived in the Boston area for the past five and a half years. The company her father worked for had transferred him here just before the start of her senior year in high school. At the time, Julie had vowed that as soon as she had graduated she was returning to California to attend college, but a certain young man had changed her mind. That romance waned into nothing her first year in the Boston college. After that, other considerations kept her there—mostly the increased financial burden of transferring to a California college where she couldn't live at home and where tuition costs would be higher.
"Home sweet home," Marilyn announced as the car rolled to an idling stop at the curb.
Julie's mouth gaped in a tired yawn that she couldn't stifle. Her back and legs protested their weary soreness when she attempted to move. "I don't know whether to soak my feet or just fall into bed," she sighed. Almost eight straight hours of standing and walking had made her feet feel like two swollen, throbbing appendages at the end of her legs.
"At least the tips were good tonight," her fellow worker consoled.
The way Julie felt, she had earned every penny of the money in her uniform pocket, but she didn't say so. "Thanks for the ride home, Marilyn." Her hand hesitated on the door handle. Tired as she was, there was a matter that Julie had intended to discuss with Marilyn, but she had forgotten it until this moment. "Listen, if you're going to keep chauffeuring me back and forth from the restaurant, we're going to have to come to some kind of agreement about the gasoline."
"Your place is on my way home," her co-worker said shrugging.
"Maybe so, but it's worth something to me not to have to stand out in the cold waiting for a bus," Julie argued.
"We'll talk about it." Marilyn postponed the discussion to another time.
Julie was so tired that she let her. "Good night." She pushed the door open and stepped onto the shoveled walkway to the house.
Despite the teaching degree she had, Julie hadn't been able to obtain a position in her chosen field. While her good looks and easygoing manner were assets as a waitress, they had proven to be a hindrance when she applied for teaching posts. All her life, Julie had wanted to teach American history at the high school level. Her interviewers had all expressed grave doubts about her ability to control a classroom when she didn't look older than her students, but without experience, she hadn't been able to disprove the doubts. It was a depressing circle.
The one bright spot was the substitute teaching post she had with one of the Boston public schools. Through it, she hoped to gain the needed experience, but so far, the teachers had been disgustingly healthy and minus any family emergencies. Only twice had Julie been called in. She wouldn't have obtained that post if it hadn't been for the strong recommendation she had received from the parents of a teenaged girl she had privately tutored.
In the meantime, she supported herself by working nights as a waitress. It practically eliminated her social life, but she was usually too tired to be overly concerned about that.
The house was dark as she approached, except for a flickering square of light coming through the sheer curtains of the front window. She inserted the house key in the lock, turned it and pushed the door open. Standing in the doorway, she turned and waved to Marilyn who had waited at the curb to make sure she had got safely into the house.
Over the low rumble of the car's engine as Marilyn drove away could be heard the sound of a television discoursing its late-night fare of old movies. It was the same greeting Julie always heard when she entered the closed-off entryway with its staircase to the second floor. She glanced at the door where the sound was coming from and the corners of her wide mouth lifted briefly. Mrs. Kelly, her landlady, was addicted to television, especially the late, late movies.
A month after Julie had received her college diploma, her father had been transferred again, this time to Florida. She could have gone with her parents, but she had decided it was time she were wholly independent. In June of this past year, she had rented the apartment from Mrs. Kelly, which consisted of one large room with a bath.
The second floor of the old house had been converted into three rooms to let. Because of her working hours, Julie knew her fellow lodgers only by sight. Both worked during the day, which precluded much opportunity of forming close friendships. The two other women seemed nice, but Julie didn't know either of them well.
With a last glance at the front door to be sure the night lock was bolted, she moved to the stairs. The second step creaked under her weight. Before she reached the third step, a door opened and Humphrey Bogart's voice was clearly recognizable from the television sound coming from the room.
"Julie—it is you. I thought I heard the door," Mrs. Kelly declared in a very Bostonian accent.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kelly, I didn't mean to disturb you." Julie paused on the stairs.
Her landlady was in her sixties, widowed, with an abundance of pearl-gray hair piled in a bun on top of her head. Typically it was askew. Mrs. Kelly claimed to be five feet tall, but Julie doubted it. With the added height advantage of the staircase, she thought that the older woman looked even shorter. There was something about the woman that reminded Julie of a leprechaun. Maybe it was the constant twinkling in her eyes.
"You didn't disturb me." Mrs. Kelly waved the apology aside. "I've been listening for you."
"You have?" Julie murmured inadequately, hoping her landlady wasn't going to invite her in to share some hot chocolate. Julie had accepted such invitations in the past, but tonight she was just too tired.
"Yes, you had a telephone call shortly after you left for work this afternoon. The woman said it was very important. Just a minute and I'll get it for you. I wrote it all down on the paper beside the telephone." The small form disappeared into the room lighted only by the television tube.
A telephone call that was important. Obviously it wasn't from her parents, since Mrs. Kelly had met both of her parents and taken calls from them. That left one possibility, the school. They wanted her to teach tomorrow. Julie leaned tiredly against the stairwell wall. If that were the case, she desperately needed some rest. It would ruin everything to arrive at the classroom in the morning groggy from lack of sleep.
"Here it is." Mrs. Kelly reappeared, waving a piece of paper in her hand.
"Thank you." Julie descended two steps to reach the paper in the outstretched hand. The light in the stairwell wasn't good. Neither was Mrs. Kelly's handwriting. She didn't attempt to decipher it there. "Good night, Mrs. Kelly."
"Good night." The door was closed and Humphrey Bogart was muffled into an unidentifiable voice.
In her room, Julie switched on the overhead light and bolted the door. Unbuttoning her coat, she read the note. A Mrs. Grayson wanted her to call first thing in the morning—the telephone number was written below the message. Julie couldn't remember any Mrs. Grayson with the school. It took her tired mind several seconds to place the name. It was the woman from the professional employment agency. Julie had signed up with them last summer in hopes that they would be able to obtain her a teaching post in a private all-girls school.
After all this time she had given up hope. Maybe they had finally arranged a job interview for her. Releasing a sigh, Julie draped her coat over the back of a chair. She hadn't the energy to get excited by the possibility. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough.
Sitting on the same chair that held her coat, she untied her shoes and slipped them off, curling her toes and rubbing her aching arches. Her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of her reflection in the wall mirror. Straggly wisps of hair had escaped from her schoolmarmish bun at the nape of her neck. Julie didn't attempt to smooth the strays into place. Instead she unpinned the coil and shook her straight hair free.
Its color was not exactly light brown, neither was it dark blond, but fell somewhere in between. The California sun had usually bleached it to an unusual and attractive shade of platinum gilded blond. Since she had moved east, it had become an indistinguishable color. Tan was the closest descriptive word Julie knew, but who had ever heard of tan hair? Straight and sleek, it framed her oval face from a center part, its indefinite color accenting the pale brown of her eyes.
At the moment, her eyes were too tired to inspect her reflection and take note of the quiet beauty of her features that blossomed into loveliness under the golden kiss of the sun. Sighing, she rose. The bed looked singularly inviting, more so than a soak in the tub, no matter how sore and tired her muscles were. Her movements were automatic as she undressed and got ready for bed.
The small apartment was sparsely furnished. A single bed and a chest of drawers joined a narrow drop leaf table with two chairs as furniture. Half of one wall was taken up by makeshift wooden cabinets, a tiny gas stove, and a small refrigerator. The starkness of the furnishings was alleviated by the colorful poppy-designed cloth covering the table and a coordinating reddish orange spread on the bed. Lemon and lime toss pillows mounded the bed.
An assortment of sunny posters and appliquéd cloth pictures brightened the sun-yellow walls; the woodwork was painted a pristine white. Even the enamel of the refrigerator and stove were decorated with magnetized ornaments, from butterflies to ladybirds, and bright pot holders. The entire room was a touch of sunny California in winter Massachusetts. But, as Julie piled the pillows onto the floor and swept back the bedspread, she didn't notice the cheerfulness of the room. Sleep was the only thing on her mind.
The next morning she used Mrs. Kelly's telephone to call Mrs. Grayson at the employment agency. Fully rested, she was intensely curious, but Mrs. Grayson seemed reluctant to satisfy her curiosity over the telephone.
"Do you have a job interview for me?" Julie asked the point-blank question after Mrs. Grayson had asked her to come to the private employment agency.
"I do have a job offer for you," the woman stated without any qualification. "I would like you to come in so we can discuss it."
"A job offer?" Julie repeated. It sounded too good to be true. "Teaching?"
"Yes, teaching," Mrs. Grayson assured her. "What time can you come to my office? Please try to make it as soon as possible."
"I'll leave now."
Julie splurged and called a taxi. She had been offered a job—teaching! Only now did she admit the fear she had been hiding—that she would be like so many college graduates who could not find a position in their chosen field. Not even the post as a substitute teacher had given her much encouragement for a future, permanent position.
By the time she had seated herself in Mrs. Grayson's office, she was so excited that she had difficulty retaining her composure. Her attempts to appear cool and calm were betrayed by the sparkling in her eyes.
"You were going to tell me about this job offer." She came straight to the point.
"Yes." Mrs. Grayson sifted through the papers on her desk and withdrew one halfway down a stack. "I received a telephone call yesterday afternoon from a Miss Harmon. She wants to hire you to tutor her niece. She has offered a—"
"Tutoring?" Julie repeated in disappointment. "I thought you said it was a teaching post."
"Tutoring is teaching," the woman reasoned. "Besides, I think you'll find this offer very attractive."
"Perhaps." But Julie felt misled. She couldn't summon much enthusiasm for it.
"You see, Miss Harmon and her niece live in Hawaii." A faint smile edged Mrs. Grayson's mouth at Julie's startled glance. "I thought that might get your attention."
"How did she know about me?" Dazed, Julie tried to recall whether or not Mrs. Grayson had actually said she had been requested for the job. She was certain she had.
"Do you remember the Rifkins? You tutored their daughter this past summer. You were highly recommended to Miss Harmon by them," was the explanation. "Now Miss Harmon is most anxious to engage you."
"But surely there's someone in Hawaii she could hire for her niece," Julie insisted.
"I'm certain there must be," Mrs. Grayson agreed. "I didn't inquire why Miss Harmon specifically wanted you, other than to learn about the recommendation she'd received from the Rifkins. I can only presume she's indulging in a whim of the wealthy. Importing a tutor from Boston is probably something of a status symbol that she's acquiring."
"I see." It sounded logical in an illogical way.
"Would you like to hear more of the particulars?"
"Yes, of course." She would be foolish not to.
"Miss Harmon's niece was injured in an automobile accident shortly before the Christmas holidays, as I understand. It's anticipated that her injuries and recovery are going to keep her out of school possibly for the balance of this school year. The girl is sixteen, a junior in high school, and most anxious to graduate next year with her classmates."
"So the position would be for roughly five months," said Julie, roughly calculating the length of the school year that remained.
"Miss Harmon has guaranteed six months' salary to persuade you to leave whatever teaching post you're now holding." Mrs. Grayson smiled with a slight hint of conspiracy, and named a salary figure that dazzled Julie. More and more, it was becoming an offer she couldn't refuse—not that she had contemplated refusal.
"You will live with Miss Harmon and her niece. Miss Harmon also wanted me to assure you that a nurse had been hired and you would not be required to do any sickroom care. Evenings and weekends you would be totally free to do as you please."
"It sounds too good to be true—a paid vacation in Hawaii in the dead of winter!" A faint laugh escaped Julie's throat as she shook her head in amazement. "Where do I sign? When do they want me?"
"Immediately."
"But my job—"
"Miss Harmon is paying a high price for your services as well as taking care of our agency's fee. Naturally she expects you to come when it's convenient for her. I have a first-class plane ticket for you here, paid for by Miss Harmon, with the reservation for the day after tomorrow. I'm to telephone her this afternoon to confirm that you've accepted her offer and will be on that plane."
"The day after tomorrow. That isn't much time," Julie murmured, thinking of all the washing and packing she had to do, not to mention informing the restaurant and school that she was quitting without notice.
"What's your answer?"
"What else can I say?" Her shoulders lifted in an expressive shrug. "Yes. Tell Miss Harmon, yes."
A few minutes later, she rose to leave, with the address of her new, if temporary, place of residence in Hawaii, an unpronounceable town on the island of Oahu. She still felt a bit dazed by her good fortune.
Mrs. Grayson rose to see her out. "Send us a postcard to let us know how you're getting along, Julie."
"I will," she promised.
"Aloha. I believe it means 'goodbye' and also 'good luck'."
"Thank you. Aloha," Julie returned the Hawaiian greeting and a smile curved the full width of her mouth.
Outside, she succeeded in flagging down a taxi for the ride back to her apartment. Bundled up in her winter parka, a wool scarf around her throat, she gazed out of the window at the bleak, gray skies and snow-packed streets. In two more days she would be looking at palm trees and sandy beaches. It seemed impossible.
Mrs. Kelly was at the door to meet her when she arrived. "Did you get the job?"
"Yes." Her head bobbed in an eager response. Julie pulled off her mittens; she was bursting with the news. "Mrs. Kelly, it's in Hawaii!"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Kona Winds by Janet Dailey. Copyright © 1979 Janet Dailey. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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