The Ohana Part 23

A lot of people thought George Han was a monster. Mary knew it wasn't true. Her brother-in-law was basically a good guy whose biggest flaw was he wanted to make a lot of money and didn't much care how he did it.

Mary had just started cleaning her last table at the coffee shop where she worked when George appeared in the doorway flanked by two bodyguards. Straightening her back tiredly, she stood motionless as he walked toward her in the same wary, hesitant way he had since childhood.

Some things never change, she thought.

He stopped in front of her. "h.e.l.lo, Mary."

"h.e.l.lo, George." She put the rag she held in her hand on the table. They hardly spoke these days.

"Can I give you a ride home?"

She looked around the empty room. "I still have some cleaning up to do in back."

"I've taken care of that. I've talked to s.h.i.+ge."

s.h.i.+ge was Mary's boss. She nodded as she took off her ap.r.o.n. "Let me tell my ride I'm leaving."

When she stepped out of the restaurant, George greeted her from the back seat of his car where he smoked a cigarette. "How are things going?" he asked as she got it in. One of George's body guards closed the door behind her.

"Same old thing." She stared out the window. It was a hot, muggy night. The termites had swarmed earlier in the evening. As if her job were not difficult enough, she'd spent the night running around, turning off lights, and putting out buckets of water for the pests to drown in. It had been exhausting. Even now she could still see termites hypnotized by the lights. Their dead bodies and sheer wings lay in the street and the crevices of the car. She ran her finger along the edge and picked up one frail body.

"You look tired."

Mary looked at George, but his face was shrouded in darkness. "It was busy, despite the termites. The tips were pretty good." She made twelve dollars that night and thought it had been a really great s.h.i.+ft. But it was small change to George. "How's your family, George?"

"The same." He nodded to his driver who started the car. "I really needed to see you."

"Why?"

George stubbed his cigarette in the door's ashtray. "It's about Mark's gambling,"

"Oh." Mary looked down at her hands.

"How bad has it really gotten?" he asked her.

Mary thought of all the times she considered leaving Mark. "He borrowed from his mother and refinanced the house to the hilt. We have no cash. I don't know how much he owes."

George looked out the window, his fingers tapping on the armrest. "He owes Vegas $20,000."

Mary put her hand to her throat. "What! I know he likes to gamble but..." Her voice trailed as her hand fluttered down. She knew it was true. Every morning for the last two weeks Mark checked under the hood of his car before starting it. She thought it strange, but Mark said he liked to make sure everything was in working order. "It's those Las Vegas junkets. Free trips, nothing. Mark says they treat him like a king. Free plane trip, free booze, free hotel, and I know there's free girls. Don't bother denying it. I wish you never started junkets."

"The boys in Vegas held off only out of respect for me. I've promised to pay his debts. These guys don't fool around, Mary. You have to help me convince Mark, no more gambling."

"How can we repay you that much money? We don't have any equity left in the house."

"He's my brother." George cleared his throat.

Mary straightened. "Don't worry, we'll pay you back. No matter how long it takes. And there will be no more junkets."

"I don't know if I'll always be able to cover for him. I don't know if my name will always mean something." George shook his head. "I want to get out of this business."

"Good for you."

"The money's tempting, but so many other groups are cropping up now. Some of them are crazy and gun happy. It scares me. I have enough money to live comfortably. The new guys have ice water in their veins. I'd rather quit while I'm still alive."

They pa.s.sed under a street lamp; Mary could see George's face. New lines had sprouted around his eyes and mouth. He looked tired. "Can you walk out just like that?"

"I don't know." George scratched his head. "I've been thinking of opening a restaurant. You can run it for me. I have a s.p.a.ce in Waikiki, near International Marketplace."

"I'm just a waitress," Mary protested. Still, she couldn't help but think it was a great location. But, she didn't know if she was capable of running it.

"The most important thing in opening a restaurant is to have family you trust. You're smart and honest. I'll give you a percentage of the gross so you won't miss the tips you make."

"I'll have to discuss it with Mark."

George looked at her for what felt like a very long time. "Of course," he finally said.

Mary felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. George rarely looked at her these days. Now that he did, she wondered what he was thinking.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mark burst into his brother's office.

George leaned back in his chair. "What's your problem?"

"How dare you talk to my wife about me," Mark spat. "You made me look like a fool."

"You did that to yourself." George lit a cigarette. "I didn't have to do it for you."

Mark slammed his fist on the table. "Just who the h.e.l.l do you think you are?"

George blew smoke in Mark's direction. "Seems to me you should be thanking me instead of cursing me."

"For what? Stop trying to run my life. Stay out of it." Mark leaned over, his knuckles on the desktop.

George leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "If I had done that, you would be dead. Vegas doesn't give second chances."

Mark stood back, then flopped into a chair. "I would have paid them."

"How were you going to do that?" George followed his brother's actions and relaxed in his chair. "You're already hocked up to your neck."

"How do you know?"

"I've got my ways." George flicked ashes into an ashtray. He needed to quit smoking and coffee because he was getting jittery.

"Yeah, you and your big shot ways." Mark kicked the desk. "What about this restaurant idea? I can take care of my family without your help."

George locked eyes with his brother. "Do you enjoy seeing your wife slaving to pay off your debts?"

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Mark stood and paced the room.

"Look, we'll both make good money in Waikiki. It's a legitimate business and I need a trustworthy manager. Why not family? It's not charity. Mary would be doing me a favor."

Mark looked at George sideways. "It's a Chinese laundry."

"It will be on the up and up."

"How do you know she can do it?"

"I got good instincts. Besides, she's been doing restaurant-work for quite awhile now."

"What are you offering her?"

"Ten percent of the gross plus $600 a month."

Mark crossed his arms. "Fifteen."

George puffed on his cigarette. "Okay, fifteen."

"Okay."

"Okay, what?" George asked.

"Okay, she'll work for you."

George wasn't surprised.

Chapter Thirty-four.

Honolulu: 1955-1960 Sean was never quite sure exactly how their affair began. Ideologically, they were worlds apart. He was wedded to the ways and beliefs of the kamaaina aristocracy. Diana, on the other hand, was determined to uproot and undermine what she called the tyranny of the kamaaina haoles. Their close relations.h.i.+p was so improbable the sheer lunacy of it was an attraction in and of itself. What they had in common was they were both handsome, determined, ambitious, and contentious people whose chosen paths were parallel yet separate. In between lay a chasm no one could cross.

The affair had been again, off again, with gaps sometimes lasting years. Their first time-off happened after he married Katherine. Strangely, his marriage didn't seem to bother Diana. In fact, it amused her because his marriage was in keeping with his philosophies and goals. When she told him her opinion, he accused her of intellectualizing the most intimate of situations. But they both knew she was right.

"We're street fighters," Diana said as she lay with Sean in her bed in an apartment facing Kuhio Beach in Waikiki. Surf was up; they could see surfers out in the ocean from her bed. Sean knew Diana loved to sit on her lanai sipping coffee and watching pedestrians stroll along the beach and up and down Kapiolani Groin, the newly built walkway jutting out into the ocean. It was also her favorite place to walk and think. "Sometimes we fight below the belt and do whatever it takes to win." Diana looked up at the ceiling. "Unfortunately we're on opposite sides of every issue I'm afraid."

Sean rose on an elbow, his cheek on his fist. "Because you believe equality exists simply because our Const.i.tution says so. It wasn't true when our founding fathers wrote it and will never be true. If you changed your way of thinking, you would either make a lot of money or land one of those old, rich kamaainas I see l.u.s.ting after you," Sean laughed.

"And prost.i.tute myself?" Diana lifted an eyebrow. "Besides, I'm never getting married."

"Never?" Sean tickled her nose with his finger and Diana swatted his hand away.

"I'm a divorcee and an independent woman who prefers affairs." Diana pulled the sheet up to her chin. "If I didn't think that way, would I be here? I'm too logical to pursue a man who is married not only to a wife, but to a way of living." She c.o.c.ked a brow. "I pity you, Sean."

Sean flopped onto his back. "Save your pity."

"You have so much to offer. If only you weren't so obsessed with money, what a splendid human being you would be."

Sean turned his back to her. "My mother said I'd grow up to be a splendid gentleman if I went to live with Uncle Patrick."

Diana turned onto her side and stroked his back. "I love you."

"You're a fantastic lady. I'm very lucky." He turned and kissed her.

He knew it bothered her that he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He knew she didn't care he was married because she knew he didn't love his wife. He understood she wasn't asking for commitment-she just wanted to hear him say he loved her. But he didn't know what he felt and he refused to lie about it. The only woman he knew he loved was Meg.

It was their seventh anniversary. Sean thought Katherine looked exceptional wearing an elegant, midnight-blue velvet sheath from Chanel that set off the auburn tresses coiled on top of her head. A magnificent Kashmir sapphire and diamond necklace encircled her neck and a matching set of pear-shaped Kashmir sapphires surrounded by full-cut diamonds hung from her earlobes. Sean was proud to have a wife who looked every inch the handsome aristocrat she was.

The night began pleasantly enough. Sean gave her a Burmese ruby ring. Her gift to Sean was an elegant gold Cartier cigarette case with a matching lighter engraved with his initials. Their ma.s.sive Koa Wood dining room table was adorned with anthuriums, protea, torch ginger, and bird of paradise. They dined on Limoge china with some of their closest friends and toasted each other with Baccarat crystal winegla.s.ses. Their personal chef created an elegant dinner of succulent Beef Wellington.

Ever the consummate hostess, Katherine had orchestrated the entire evening.

Later that night, she donned a lacy new peignoir set. Her long, chestnut hair flowed around her broad, white shoulders. Sean was already in bed when she slipped in and started caressing him. It had been a long, stressful day at the office and his argument with Diana the night before didn't help his mood. He hated it when Diana accused him of being obsessed with money and marrying into society.

"I had a bad day," he said. "And I'm very tired." Not wanting to be cruel, Sean leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. But his wife was having none of it. In the muted light he saw her face grow hard. Angry. But without a word, she threw back the bed linens, flung herself out of bed and slammed the door as she left their bedroom.

It seemed he had a talent for making women unhappy.

Sean teased Diana when she bought a quaint gingerbread house on Black Point with marvelous views of the ocean. Black Point was in the middle of elitist Kahala and Diamond Head. It became infamous when novelist James Michener was denied the right to buy a home there because of his j.a.panese wife. Black Point boasted a private salt.w.a.ter pool and private road access with big 'Keep Out' signs. But the charming house with its spectacular view had won her over. She insisted that whenever she sat on her lanai and gazed out at the ocean, she found peace and sometimes even forgot her frantic crusading.

He smiled when he saw her sitting on her lanai with a gla.s.s of wine at dusk wearing a red cotton hapi coat with a black dragon embroidered in back. She stood when she saw him approaching. The closer he got, the more seductive she looked. He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her as his other hand parted the front of her hapi coat.

"Don't." She drew her robe back together.

He kissed her neck as she turned her head away.

"Sean." She pushed him away and stepped to the front door. "I've told you before, the neighbors might see."

Laughing, he followed her into the house. Once inside, he began to caress her again.

Stepping back, she shook her head.

Sean frowned. "What's eating you? We're inside now."

"I have to talk to you."

"Let me get a gla.s.s of wine first." He went to the bar and poured Cabernet Sauvignon into a crystal wine gla.s.s.

Diana sat on the sofa and crossed her legs. "Tell me what you know about the Carlos Mendoza trust."

Sean sat across from her.

"Well?" she persisted.