Annie's Rainbow - Fern Michaels [61]
“Four-thirty-five.”
“Guess what the state fish is? You spell it humuhumunukunukuapua.”
Elmo laughed so loud the dogs stopped slurping their root beer to stare at him. “Where’d you learn all that?”
“From the brochure on the plane. I read it word for word while you were sleeping.”
“I’m impressed,” the old man muttered.
“You should be. Listen to this. Ua mau ke ea o ka aina I ka pono. That means, the life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness. They say King Kamehameha III said it when the Hawaiian flag was raised after a brief period of unauthorized usurpation of authority by a British admiral.”
“My education is now complete. Do we have any nibbles or munchies?”
“There were some corn chips and dried fruits in the welcoming basket. I’ll get them for you. What time is it?”
“Four-forty-five.”
“If this phone rings one second after five, we are not answering it. Maybe I should call the Whaler again.”
“If that will make you feel better, then do it.”
“It’s possible, Elmo, that everyone is busy over there pumping water. Maybe no one is manning the phones.”
“So call. And when they answer, you’ll know you shot yourself in the foot.”
“You are surly, today, Elmo. Is your arthritis bothering you?”
“A little. Pretty as this place is, I don’t much like it. It’s too flowery. Too green. I don’t like apartments. I like to go out on the porch and sit in my rocker.”
“Do you want to go home, Elmo? It’s okay if you do,”
“I miss the shop the way I missed the drugstore when I left Boston. Would you be upset if I left? I’ll take the dogs with me.”
“If that’s what you want, Elmo. One minute after five, I’ll call the airport and schedule your flight. I can go back commercial.”
“I feel like a curmudgeon leaving you.”
“That’s because you are a curmudgeon. I understand. Did you unpack?”
“Nope. I’m good to go. You’re sure you don’t mind me taking the dogs?”
“Elmo, it’s okay. I just thought you would like a vacation. I don’t ever remember you taking one in all the years I’ve known you.”
“That’s because I never did. Vacations don’t mean much. I’m too old to waste my time sitting around. I want to be doing something. I can help Tom with the coffee bins if we’re going to start selling coffee. You’re going to want fancy bags. White maybe, with a daisy on them. See, I can be working on all that while you’re here chasing that guy you say doesn’t want to be caught.”
“I never said any such thing, Elmo. What time is it?”
“Four-fifty-seven. Three minutes to go.”
“What am I going to do with myself now that you’re leaving? had all these tours planned.”
“You can still do them. I would have held you back. I can’t walk like I used to. The dogs are happier in their own environment,” Elmo said, throwing in what he knew would be the clincher.
“I can’t argue with that. Guess I screwed up, huh?”
“No. No, Annie, you didn’t. Sometimes you are just too kind and generous for your own good. When you get to be my age you want to be where you’re the most comfortable. I like my old chair and my worn-out slippers and my big-screen TV. I like to putter in the kitchen and water my plants. I like messing up my stove knowing someone else is going to clean it. Most of all I like to sit up late at night and read all the journals and pamphlets that still come to me.” .
“I love you, Elmo Richardson.” This time Annie didn’t ask for the time. She picked up the phone she’d dragged to the balcony and dialed the number the pilot had given her. “There’s been a change in plans, Captain. Mr. Richardson wants to leave as soon as possible. He’s packed and ready to go. We can be at the airport in thirty minutes if that’s okay with you. No, I won’t be returning with you, but the dogs will, so have plenty of root beer on board and a lot of munchies for Mr. Richardson.
“We’ll take a taxi,” she told Elmo. “I hope we can find one that will take the dogs.”
“You might have to drop some more money on the floor.” Elmo cackled.
“I might at that. Maybe I’ll rent a car tomorrow and explore on my own a little.