Page 10 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

Stella stopped typing and swiveled her rolling desk chair toward me. The sunlight caught the red highlights in her dark hair and lit her gray eyes with an extra sparkle. In her pink lacy shirt and long jean skirt, she looked younger than her early twenties.

“Kate is already here,” she said. “She’s in the back.”

“Oh. Let me know if you need anything.” My voice came out chirpy, and my mood changed from heavy to light. I readjusted my purse strap over my shoulder and strolled to the back, the paper mug warm in my grasp.

I’d thought Stella would quit after a few months, but when our gallery had gotten busy, I’d given her a raise. Weeks had turned to months, and months turned to years. Though she mentioned grad school from time to time, she hadn’t left me yet.

Over the years, Stella had become like a younger sister to Kate and me. With only the three of us working so closely together, we confided in each other and had developed a more personal relationship.

I dropped my purse on the desk in the back room and set down the paper mug. I stepped up to the easel holding my latest painting, which I’d set aside for a charity auction, before shifting my attention to my sister.

Kate sat on a stool in front of another easel near the red storage shelf at the back of the room, painting a landscape of Kauai. Despite new ventilation, the pungent fumes of oil paints and thinners filled the room. She wore jeans and a T-shirt underneath her painting apron, with her long hair tied in a low ponytail. She kept painting, oblivious to me lurking behind her.

The sight took me back to our college years. We would paint through the night, taking short naps in between to finish our projects. Those had been wonderful years. And who would have thought we would both go from USC in Los Angeles to living in Kauai?

Kate had earbuds in, and her whole body moved as if the music flowed to the canvas through her arm. Her paintbrush stroked across in feathery moves, creating a lifelike ocean in the twilight.

She had captured the sunset gleaming across the water. The couple walking hand-in-hand on the white sand reminded me of Lee and Kate. And the hues of pink and violet across the sky perfectly matched Kauai’s breathtaking evening skies.

I inched closer, drawn in by the combination of rich colors that brought the scene to life. And just as I was about to tap her shoulder, Kate stretched her arms back to yawn, and something cold squished on my face.

“Not again.” Kate jumped out of her chair. “What are you doing sneaking up on me like that? Make some noise next time, will you? You’ll give me a heart attack, and then you won’t have a painting partner.”

Not again? Kate had never gotten paint on me before, but she had smeared Lee on several occasions.

I would have laughed had she not made a big deal about it, but her prissy mood annoyed me. Kate had been living with me until about a year ago, when she’d bought a cute little bungalow, and it had been good for both of us. We got along, but she needed her own space.

I rolled my eyes and went to the restroom mirror to assess my face. “You should either turn the volume down or not use earbuds.” I scrubbed the oil paint soap into my right cheek and splashed it with cool water, then watched the sudsy violet liquid swirl down the sink.

I caught my sister’s reflection in the mirror when I peered up.

Kate crossed her arms and leaned on her hip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to … you scared me. And—”

I raised a hand to cut her off and dabbed my cheek with a paper towel. “It’s fine. We’re both tired and busy. I think we should hire another person or two. We’re so swamped. And Stella just told me we got more online orders.”

“Yeah, and that’s great,” Kate said. “But at the rate we’re going, it’ll be months before those commissions are fulfilled.”

I walked out to the tall metal storage shelf crowded with bins full of tube paints and brushes, next to ones holding break-room supplies.

“I’ll tell Stella to get this process started and line up the interviews,” I said.

I grabbed a canvas from the pile on the small table, propped it on my wooden easel next to Kate’s, then gathered the oil paints and lined them up for easy access next to my palette. From the bin on the shelf, I took out brushes and layered color on the image in front of me.

Kate cleared her throat. “So, are you going to tell me about that kiss?”

I knew she would ask sooner or later, but there wasn’t much to say. So why was my face burning?

“What kiss?” I mixed a dab of white into the blue sky on the canvas.

“Oh, you know. When Ian kissed you at the market.” Kate swiped pink across the clouds on her canvas. “Were you going to tell me about it? Or were you never going to share?”

I put the paintbrush on the tray next to me. “You’re making it out to be a big deal, and it isn’t. He happened to be at the market and caught me just before I fell. We exchanged a few words, and then he gave me a quick peck on the cheek before he left. That’s all. The end. He didn’t ask me out, and we didn’t exchange phone numbers. Not that I would go out with him.”

I felt like I was in college, talking about boys and dating stuff all over again.

“Why not?” Kate whirled on the stool to face me and narrowed her eyes. “Ian is a great guy. Why wouldn’t you date him?”

“You date him.” After I said it, I realized how childish that sounded.