“Mama, Dad.” Stacey stepped through the back door of her parent’s house and into their oasis of a backyard. Sure enough, her dad looked up from the roasting pit, where he knelt, working to pull the meat up from the chambers carved into the earth.
“Stacey.” Her mom wiped her hands on her apron and gave Stacey a hug. “How’s Aloha Hideaway?” She pushed her own red hair now streaked with gray away from her face.
“Busy.” Stacey pushed out a sigh. “We’ve got a full turnover today.”
“Good thing Dad made so much food.”
“I’ll take whatever you’ll let me.” Stacey smiled at her approaching father and embraced him too. “Smells amazing, Dad.”
“Aloha, Stacia.” Her father always spoke with a Spanish-Hawaiian accent, and while Stacey hadn’t inherited hardly any of his native genes, she felt a deep co
