Page 42 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

He sat up, his eyes growing wide with excitement. “Shiver me timbers. We’re going to Ian’s house today.” He got up faster than he would on a school day and opened his closet door. “Can I have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Only if you help me make them.”

“Aye. Cool.” He gave me a thumbs up and flashed all his teeth.

He looked so much like Steve, at that moment. He rushed out of his room, and his infectious joy for life pulled me along with him.

Chapter Sixteen — Ian’s House

I followed the GPS and turned on the next street. In Poipu, most houses were separated by a good-sized lot, for privacy, but the space was even more prevalent in this neighborhood. When we turned onto Ian’s street, sunlight spilled like molten gold across the ocean, flecks of light waving hypnotically. The low drifting clouds gave an illusion that you could walk straight into heaven. Simply breathtaking.

Ian’s house was one story, but had a lot of windows and sleek, modern lines. Not as grand as Lee’s, but gorgeous and right on the beach. White, pink, and red plumerias lined the cobblestone walkway up to the grand double front door. The flowers were the crowning touch on a lovely house, creating a warm and inviting approach saturated with a delicate scent.

I hiked up the bag strap over my shoulder with all of Tyler’s things and rang the doorbell.

Isaac squinted in the slanting sunlight. He greeted me with open arms and high-fived Tyler. “Ahoy, me hearties. Welcome to my brother’s humble home. Everyone is in the back. I’ll show you the way.”

He must play Buccaneers versus Skeletons, too.

Tyler ran past me in the foyer. In the center was a brass table with a large vase of assorted lilies and bird of paradise blooms. I followed Isaac past a family room with a huge flat-screen television and U-shaped brown sofas.

I looked for photos of Ian’s family, but there were none. Perhaps he didn’t bother with such décor, since this wasn’t his permanent home.

He did hang paintings, though. Wailua Falls, the one Isaac had bought from my gallery, and a large photo of the Poipu beach that Kate had taken hung near the TV. I’d thought Isaac had bought them for his properties, but I was humbled that Ian had them displayed in his home.

On the opposite wall near the kitchen was a painting Kate called Mr. Medici. Ian had bought that about three years ago. The canvas measured eighty by eighty inches, and it was a muddy blob of mismatched colors. It looked like someone had vomited paint onto the canvas. But art was art.

That piece of art had a long story, well known among their friends. The short version: Kate messed around with paint in the backroom and accidentally got some on Lee’s button-up dress shirt.

Isaac noticed me staring at another art piece in the family room, so he stopped short. “Oh, Ian wanted that, so I let him have it. But that means I’m short one Wailua Falls. I’ll have to either stop by your gallery, or I’ll go through your website.”

“You can stop by any time,” I said.

I strolled near the long hallway that led to the bedrooms. I wondered what they looked like. My eyes wandered to the crown molding from corner to corner throughout the house. I’d always wanted crown molding, but my ceiling wasn’t high enough.

We went through a kitchen with white cabinets and upscale stainless-steel appliances, spotless and not in use. Perhaps we were cooking out—or someone had cheated and ordered food. When we stepped outside through the sliding glass door, I put on my sunglasses.

Breathtaking.

I passed by the built-in BBQ. In the center was the swimming pool, not as big as Lee’s, but a good size. There was no need for a pool, though. The backyard extended to the beach, and coconut trees surrounded the area—pure paradise by anyone’s standards.

Warm, grainy sand pressed between my toes and inside my flip-flops as I made footprints toward the others. The light breeze tousled my hair, and the sun bathed my skin at the perfect spring temperature.

Kate and Stella were seated at a wooden table with drinks in their hands. Two large beach umbrellas cast shade over them. Bridget was sitting on the edge of the pool, kicking water and reading a book. When she spotted Tyler, she tossed her book into her backpack and jogged toward us with a warm smile.

Bridget’s blonde hair seemed lighter under the sun, and her blue eyes almost gray. Kate and Stella heard Bridget calling Tyler’s name and got up to greet us. Tyler and Bridget rushed off to play Buccaneers versus Skeletons on her tablet at the table by the pool.

“Abby, you look so cute.” Stella kissed my cheek. “Wearing shorts and a tank makes you look younger, playful, and flirty, boss.” She lightly shoved me.

Peering over my sunglasses, I pierced my gaze to hers. I couldn’t see her eyes through the dark-shaded glasses, but she stopped talking.

I placed my bag down on the sand, sat beside Kate, and watched Lee and Ian walk toward us from the ocean. Nobody could tell I was looking, because of my sunglasses, but heat blazed up my neck and down my middle, and it wasn’t from the warm sun.

Actually, I might have gawked. So did my sister and Stella. It was like watching two hot models in a swimsuit commercial shoot with water dripping from their hair, down their six-packs, and lower. The sun caught the sheen of sunscreen at that precise moment, giving the illusion that their bodies had been sleeked with oil.

Not going to lie. I couldn’t take my eyes off Ian.

“Holy hotness,” Stella muttered under her breath. “Sorry for staring, but damn. I’ve never seen two sexy Italian men in one place before.”