to get back to.
She looked at Maria, who had stopped eating and bore a stricken expression.
“I’m so sorry. He’s accustomed to being the patriarch. It’s the Hawaiian way, but I can talk to him,” she said, but Maria’s eyes implored her with a silent plea that Quinn could feel all the way to her bones.
This was one of those moments in life that defined the kind of person you were. Quinn could make it simple. She had every legal right to involve officials and could probably have the house empty by nightfall. She didn’t even have to be present to watch them gather their things and leave.
But could she live with herself afterward?
Her thoughts scattered back and forth, from one angle and option to another so quickly she felt dizzy. Was this the universe’s way of teaching her a lesson?
Before she could get any words out, the door opened, and there stood Maria’s son, his expression defiant when he saw Quinn—his sudden enemy—sitting there.
“Your room is ready, Your Highness,” he said, crossing his arms and glaring at her.
Alani sat upright and clapped her hands. “I love that! Can I be the princess?”
Her outburst broke the tension, and Maria laughed first. Alani looked from her mother to Quinn, confused. Her innocent expression was priceless and prompted a miracle.
Pali’s scowl dissolved, and he laughed too.
Quinn felt instantly lighter. How bad could it be? It could even be an experience she’d never forget, if she could possibly allow herself to embrace the positive in the circumstance instead of focusing on the negative. Who knows, maybe she’d even learn something authentic about her mother’s heritage.
Alani was still waiting for an answer.
Quinn gave her one. “I think you’re already a princess, Alani. And guess what? Your mom can be the queen.”
Maria met her gaze, gratitude beaming from her now-moist eyes. She clasped her hands to her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I promise this will work out.”
Quinn hoped so. If it didn’t, she’d have to prepare herself for the worst “I told you so” lecture yet.
Chapter Six
Quinn finished unpacking her suitcase, stacking her clothes on the love seat of the cottage until she could ask Maria for hangers. Her mother’s ashes were placed on the nightstand, an attempt to make the house less lonely. It was weird that she was even there unpacking. But as usual, it was easier to give in than to say no.
She’d taken her time going back to the hotel and checking out, hoping she’d figure out a way to wiggle out of the arrangement without making things worse.
But nothing had come to her, and she finally had to return to Maria’s home—no . . . her own home—and settle in. The small guesthouse was just that—small. But it was enough for her. Only four hundred square feet, it made her think of the tiny house shows all over television, a new fad sweeping the mainland. It seemed that people everywhere were becoming tired of dragging along too much stuff—physically and emotionally—and opting for new lives free of clutter to live in teensy homes that were barely bigger than a toolshed.
She could see the draw, too, and had binged on the tiny house episodes, thinking how freeing it would be to walk away from her fancy too-modern condo and start somewhere new, just a suitcase of belongings in her possession. A simpler life.
Now she was getting to test it out, whether she wanted to or not. Coming from the mainland, she supposed what was a completely foreign concept of inviting a stranger into your home was just normal in a place where hospitality was the core of the culture.
For such a small space, everything she needed was provided. In addition to a tiny bedroom, the guesthouse—or cottage, which she felt described it better—boasted a living area, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. The whole interior was decorated simply, in a style that continued the island theme: strong bamboo furniture with flowery cushions that begged to be snuggled into with a good book.
Outside was a cozy porch, or lanai, as they called it in Hawaii, boxed in by tropical trees and plants, including a banana and a lime tree where she could sit with a cup of coffee and have privacy from the main house.
Pali had taken out most of his things, though Quinn was a bit surprised to find a small ashtray peeking out from under the couch. It held ashes that smelled curiously un-tobacco-like. In her opinion, he was a bit