True to Me - Kay Bratt Page 0,8

There wasn’t really time for anyone else.

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It wasn’t the time for indulging in a self-pity party. She winced when a Jeep went around to pass her, top down and music blaring. The driver was a thin reed of a girl, her long blonde hair whipping in the wind as her head bobbed to a beat that reverberated through the Jetta.

Carefree.

A few years ago, when it was time to buy a new-to-her car, Quinn wanted a Jeep, a longing that had started in high school but one she’d never realized. Ethan had researched all the industry reports and recommendations, and she had eventually settled on a Honda sedan, the car most known for dependability and longevity.

Now Quinn watched the Jeep ahead of her and felt envious for a brief second.

Once she turned off the main highway, the smaller road was bordered by magnificent banyan trees, an army of silent protectors with arms open wide, welcoming her toward something she could finally call her own.

A hidden gem, the Realtor had promised, pushing aside her concern that there were no interior photos available. Fully furnished and turnkey ready. The listing details sounded charming, and Quinn could probably recite it word for word. Banyan Bungalow: A rare piece of old Hawaii on the island of Maui. A livable original 1926 Craftsman-style American bungalow. The listing also described a one-bedroom apartment on the property that, with a little work, could be used as a vacation rental for additional income.

But how much work? The unknown of it perhaps put a damper on her excitement. However, the plumbing and the electrical in both dwellings were good, so at least the most expensive areas weren’t going to be an issue. Anything cosmetic would be easy and could be fun to take care of.

Supposedly, the small house was situated only three hundred feet from the beach, facing westward to get the most beautiful sunset views. But the image she’d held in her mind for the last few months was from the photo that showed the walkway leading up to the cozy blue door and the majestic monkeypod tree that flanked the house. Over a hundred years old, her Realtor had said.

Of course, over a hundred years old could mean big problems.

There was so much against her buying the house, yet one day she woke up and looked in the mirror and knew she had to do something new. Something to make her feel alive, before she felt completely dead inside. It was the small part of her that hadn’t yet been pushed completely down by life’s punches. A tiny flicker of excitement that grew bigger and bigger with each subsequent email back and forth to Maui.

As she became more determined, Ethan grew more concerned. He advised her that she could wind up in over her head, making a decision out of grief. For once, Quinn decided to follow her gut rather than Ethan’s advice. He would forgive her once she proved him wrong.

Hopefully, she was right.

The Realtor assured her it was a sound investment and told her if she wanted it, she would have to move fast. But she didn’t know him from Adam, and, of course, he had a family to feed, so who knew how desperate he was to make a commission.

She turned onto South Kihei road and spotted a few chickens pecking in someone’s yard, noting how skinny they looked.

As she went on, the style of houses began to show more variety. Mixed in with the smaller one-story homes were a few obviously newly constructed mini-mansions. Quinn hoped her home wouldn’t be one of those sandwiched between two mammoths and made to look small and insignificant.

When a chicken ran out in front of her, Quinn slammed on the brakes. She realized she’d been holding her breath for at least a half mile.

She missed hitting the squawking creature, but her heart raced.

Relax. It will be fine.

The next few miles were a blur, her excitement making it nearly impossible to concentrate on her surroundings any longer. Finally, she made the turn down Halama Street—her street now—and watched the numbers on the mailboxes until she came to the one marked 7895. Slowly, she turned into the property, hearing the gravel crunch under her tires as she rounded the small, curving driveway.

She rolled to a stop and put the car out of gear, then shut off the ignition and leaned back, taking a deep breath.

Well, this is it.

Her first look