A zaftig woman of fifty wearing a Hawaiian floral print dress of r****h red and daikon white stood by a two-door entrance surveying the exterior as she sipped from a bright ceramic mug depicting dancing dolphins. The pomelo-round face, sporting a bit too much make-up, was unblemished and unlined. Life had either been kind or she"d found the perfect facial cream and beauty regime.
Rey, Linda and I exchanged glances, strolled forward, and stopped by a long jewelry section. The items on display weren"t much different from what could be found at any number of Waikiki tourist shops.
“Which one did Carmie say Lenora would like?” Rey asked merrily, picking up a short necklace with a flip-flop pendant.
“I believe the—oh, look.” I held up a pair of silver shell earrings. “Cute, aren"t they?”
Sh
