Burned

“Well, that’s one taker,” Ned said. He looked over at the Wiltons, a couple in their late fifties who were writing a chapter in a book on the joys of an exciting relationship. Only problem was they were dull as dishwater. How could they not have writer’s block? Ned wondered. “Bob and Betsy, what do you say? Want to go up to the surfing beach?”

They stared back at him. The Wiltons were both thin and expressionless. Everything about them was nondescript. If you walked away from them, you couldn’t remember what they looked like. They just kind of blended in.

“I’m sorry, Ned, but we’re working on our chapter, and we need to be alone,” Bob informed him.

Gert and Ev both rolled their eyes. The Wiltons were clearly not the best people to bring sunshine back to Hudville. They were downright drippy.

The last group member, Joy, was twenty-one and had no interest in hanging out as part of the Lucky Seven. Wi

Ned looked disgusted. Because he was a most athletic tour guide, he liked people to do things as a team. “What about the good of the group?” he asked.

Gert put her foot down. “Ned, we appreciate your spending time with us, but the Praise the Rain group is free to do what they want. We come together in the mornings and the evenings and share occasional activities. That’s it. We don’t want to get on one another’s nerves.”

“Ned, I’m going with you!” Francie exulted.

“Doesn’t anyone want to go to the Big Island to swim with the dolphins?” Artie asked mournfully.

“Our budget doesn’t cover trips to the Big Island,” Ev noted somewhat sternly. “And Gert and I can’t go on a surfing expedition tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Betsy asked, her expression belying no curiosity whatsoever.

“We are conducting a private survey of the hotels and services in the area. See what we can do better for the next trip. See how we can save money.”

“You’re just doing that to drive Will crazy,” Ned half-joked. “You know you’re not going to get a better deal than what he gives you here.”

Ev shrugged and smiled a Mona Lisa smile at him, then pulled the straw of her drink close to her lips.

“Come on, Artie, why don’t you join us?” Ned asked. “We can swim with the dolphins here in Oahu on Saturday.”

Artie slowly rubbed his hand back and forth. “All right, Ned. But we’d better get life preservers. I hear that surf is treacherous. I can’t bear the sight of another dead body in the water.”

Francie was the only one who laughed.

8

S tanding out on the deck of Steve’s house, Regan was awestruck by the panoramic view. Oahu’s most famous landmark, the magnificent Diamond Head crater, could be seen in the distance. On the plane Regan had read that the volcano had risen from the sea half a million years ago and earned its name when British seamen mistook its calcite crystals for diamonds. Those poor guys, Regan thought. Talk about getting bummed out after months at sea! But diamonds or not, the volcanic crater was a sight to behold. It stood proud and majestic as it watched over Waikiki and an endless stretch of sea. Glints of light from the setting sun were bouncing off the water below.

It looks like a postcard, Regan thought, taking a seat in one of Steve’s comfortably padded outdoor chairs. The music was blaring, but there weren’t as many people as Regan might have guessed when she first walked into the brand-new house with its gleaming blond wood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were white, and the furniture was pale wood, simple but expensive. The state-of-the-art kitchen opened onto the living room/dining room area, and the deck ran the length of the whole room.

Five of Steve’s friends were seated on the deck. A painter and his wife, who crafted Hawaiian dolls, two guys who were Steve’s fraternity brothers from college and had just looked him up, and a woman who minded a house on the Big Island for a businessman from Chicago who was almost never there.

To Regan she immediately seemed like a phony.

“I just love to party,” she exclaimed, tossing back her mane of long dirty blond hair. “But it’s so cool having this house in the wilderness to yourself. I love to sit up there and reread the classics.”

“I’m sorry,” Regan said. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jasmine.”

Of course, Regan thought. She didn’t expect it to be a run-of-the-mill kind of name. Inwardly, Regan smiled, remembering her Catholic grammar school where most students had been named after saints. Regan hadn’t even met people with unusual names until she got to college. “How did you get the job?” Regan asked Jasmine.

“I was a corporate lawyer in New York City and couldn’t stand all the pressure. So I came to Hawaii for a vacation and met my boss. When I complained about my work, he offered me the job. At first I was like, I can’t do that, then I said, Oh, yes, I can. I’ve met so many wonderful and interesting people. It can be a little bit lonelier over on the Big Island. It’s so vast, and there aren’t as many people. But I come over to Oahu all the time. Steve is such a doll. He lets me stay in his guest room whenever I want.”

Regan could see Kit’s face out of the corner of her eye. Her look was less than thrilled.

“I met Jazzy when I first got here,” Steve chimed in quickly. “She’s great for introducing people around. She’s been a real friend.”

One of those, Regan thought. Nothing more a

“Jazzy” threw her head back and laughed appreciatively as she curled her ta

Regan didn’t dare look at Kit.

“…because the thing is it becomes a small town very fast. Almost everyone in Hawaii lives on Oahu. They call it ‘the gathering place,’ and let me tell you, it certainly is. It’s getting more and more exciting all the time. And after you’re here for a while, you hear all the gossip. You just can’t help it.” She laughed again and winked at Steve. “My boss actually wants to buy a house in this area. I tell you, I would love that!”

What about rereading the classics? Regan wondered. “Jasmine,” she began. She just couldn’t bring herself to call her Jazzy. “Did you know the woman who drowned today at the Waikiki Waters Resort, Dorinda Dawes? She was writing a newsletter for the hotel.”

The former corporate lawyer wrinkled her button nose at Regan. Jazzy was petite, ta

And may she rest in peace, Regan thought. “Really? How so?”

“The newsletter wasn’t so bad because the hotel had to approve it. But in the last issue that covered all the Christmas parties, she printed the worst possible pictures of the women. And she was pla