Somewhere on Maui (an Accidental Matchmaker Novel) (4 page)

Adam set his Heineken down and pushed Submit on the final touches of his dating profile. It had been tough to find the words to fill it out, to convey a word and visual picture of himself that felt true and might attract that mythic woman he thought he’d glimpsed for a moment in Dr. Suzuki’s office.

It was one thing to begin to imagine her, to put into words who he was hoping to someday meet.

It was another thing entirely to imagine what she might see in a guy like him, with all the baggage he carried.

“Adam?” His mother came to the door. He quickly closed the window to the dating
site and stood up.

“Hey, Mama.” He embraced her. Kalia Rodrigues was short, came
only to his shoulder, and she was wearing her indoor muumuu, the red-and-white-flowered one. She had long hair, threaded with gray like silver ribbons, wound into a shape like a cinnamon bun, and speared with a couple of chopsticks—and when he hugged her, she smelled like cinnamon too.

She’d set aside her cane, one of those ugly steel ones with a set of prongs on the bottom, and he stabilized her against his side, handing it to her. “Supposed to keep it with you all the time, Ma.”

“I hate this thing.” She leaned her forehead on his shoulder for a minute, sighed. “I made
huli
-
huli
chicken. Come eat.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.”

He followed her, frowning as she hobbled down the hall of the little plantation-style house his parents had bought in the sixties. He’d restored it, and now the floors, once covered in linoleum, gleamed with teak. The kitchen, the biggest room in the house, had been expanded, and he followed her to the table by the window, which she’d set for three.

“Who’s coming?” Adam eyed the extra place setting.

“I made extra.
Your cousin Tami, she’s coming.”

Adam opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a loud knock.

“Auntie? You folks home?”  Tami burst into the room. “Adam!” She threw strong arms around him. “How’s my cuz?”

She winked at him, and he couldn’t help grinning back. They were third cousins, but in the way of
Hawaii, any cousin was a close cousin, and Adam had been getting the feeling Tami was his mother’s choice for his next wife.

“Hey, Tami.
You’re looking good, girl.”

Tami danced hula for the Royal Lahaina Luau, and the cultural art form kept her supple golden figure firm and tight. A waterfall of shiny black hair brushed her
waist, and her shapely backside was wrapped like a package in a tropical-print pareu.

“I know. You too, Adam.” Tami patted his chest the way a shopper would check to see if the fruit was ripe enough in the grocery store.

“Can you help me?” Mrs. Rodrigues had a platter of
huli-huli
chicken in her hands.

“Oh, let me, Auntie!”  Tami took it from her, setting the platter on the table. She unplugged the rice cooker and brought it over while Adam filled water glasses for them from the Brita pitcher in the fridge.

Mrs. Rodrigues turned back to the stove.

“No, sit, Auntie Kalia,” Tami commanded, and Adam helped settle his mother in one of the old wooden chairs he’d restored. “I’ll get the vegetable.” She took the pot off the stove, drained steamed Chinese cabbage at the sink, served it on the old melamine plates they’d used since Adam was a kid.

“Something more than water to drink, Tami?” Adam noticed she smelled like tuberose and coconut as he passed her.

“Sure. I’ll have what
you’re having.” Tami sat, reached for the serving spoon to dish up the food to Mrs. Rodrigues first. “How have you been feeling, Auntie? How’s the hip?”

Mrs. Rodrigues had fallen two months ago, breaking her hip, and that’s when Adam had moved into the house with his mother. His sisters were both married and busy, and while they stopped in to check on Mama during the day, the family had decided someone was needed on the premises.

He’d quietly let his apartment go because he didn’t think he’d be moving out of the family home, and he’d never let her go to an assisted care.

“Getting better each day.” Kalia Rodrigues smiled, but it hurt Adam to see the pinched pain lines around her brown eyes. “I hope I’m going to get rid of this cane soon.”

“Good.” Tami had been at gatherings with them many times over the years, but this was the first time she’d had dinner with just the two of them. Adam wasn’t sure how he felt about the proprietary way she served, taking the dishes back off the table when the plates were loaded. “I see you still cooking so good, Auntie. No wonder Adam stays home.”

In spite of his mixed feelings, he slanted a grateful glance at Tami—it was nice of her to make Mama feel better about the situation.

“Let’s say a blessing.” Mrs. Rodrigues insisted on saying grace every night. She took hold of Adam’s and Tami’s hands, forcing them to hold hands too. Tami’s hand felt small and soft in his, and he closed his eyes as his mother recited the Lord’s Prayer. Tami gave his hand an extra squeeze as she released it, picking up her fork.

“So how do you cook this chicken so
ono
in the oven?
”
The women chatted on. Adam stayed quiet as he ate and covertly watched Tami.

Could she be the
woman he’d been searching for? Right in front of him all these years? She was certainly beautiful. She shared family ties and heritage, and she had his mother’s approval—but lovely as she was, he felt nothing more for her thana sisterly affection
.
He wished it were different.

Maybe he needed to go on a date with her to make sure.

After dinner, Mrs. Rodrigues got into her La-Z-Boy armchair to enjoy her favorite show. Adam and Tami, after clearing the table and cleaning up, walked out to sit on the front porch. Like most plantation houses of that era, the tin roof extended over the deep porch of weathered wood bordered by a low railing, which Mrs. Rodrigues had decorated with glass ball fishing floats and pots of orchids.

“She’s getting a little better.” Tami sat with him on one of the cane-bottomed rocking chairs. “
Seems in good spirits since you came back to the house.” They gazed out at the view of darkened trees and moonlit sugarcane fields. The ocean glittered black in the far distance, and Adam could smell ripening fruit on the lychee trees. Their land was a good-sized lot, an acre set off of winding, pastoral Baldwin Avenue, a road connecting the “up-country” town of Makawao with the beach community of Paia on the coast.

“You visit her?” Adam squinted at Tami. Her head was turned away, that fall of long hair hiding her face. The moon shed silver coins of light across the grass, but he couldn’t see her face.

“Yeah, I stop by once a week or so.” Tami shrugged, a surprisingly shy movement. “She’s so sweet, and Auntie, she likes the company.”

“Thank you.” Adam reached over, brushed her hair behind her ear, exposing her perfect profile. Moving slowly, so she could pull away if she wanted, he turned her chin toward him and leaned over to kiss her. She tipped her face up, and he set his lips on the lush contours of her mouth, thinking of her smile, which he liked, thinking of the smell of coconut and tuberoses, which he also liked, and willing something to happen. He deepened the kiss. Her hands slid up his arms, kneading the muscles of his shoulders.

It felt disembodied, but he gave the kiss some effort. After all, she was the total package and would fit right into his life. Finally, he broke the kiss, touched her cheek. “Thanks, Tami. For being there for her.”

She gave him a little pat on the knee. “No problem.”

“We had to try, right?” He took a chance she was feeling the same way—that they weren’t quite a fit.

“Right.” She smiled, and he saw her teeth gleam like pearls in the moonlight. “Auntie wants it to work so bad, but I’m sorry. I’m just not into you that way.”

He winced. “Ow.” Perversely, her rejection made him gaze at her again. She’d stood, and her moon-gilded shape was that of a goddess.

“Sorry, cuz.” She smiled. “We’re both hot, but it just doesn’t feel right.
There’s someone else out there for us.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely. And if there isn’t, we can be each other’s fallback plan.”

Adam grinned. “I like the sound of that. Thanks for visiting Mama.”

“It’s my pleasure. Really.” She walked down the steps, gave a little wave. He watched her supple hula hips move away through the moonlight. Damn, the girl was fine—and he loved her energy, honesty, and sweet way with his mom.   

Back in the house, Adam
peeked in on his mother. Mrs. Rodrigues was raptly watching
Downton Abbey
. She said she loved seeing the period costumes and the characters, though her world of rural Hawaii couldn’t have been further from the television one.

He went back into the bedroom he’d grown up in. It was, of
course, too small for all the contents of his apartment. He’d just thrown all of his belongings in the garage and taken the room back over. He’d brought his drafting table in and had set his computer up on it, so he sat back down in front of the dating profile he’d started.

It looked terrible. Hackneyed. Clichéd. Maybe too needy.

He tweaked the words some more, scrubbed his hands through his hair. Hit
Instant Matches
and scrolled through the profiles presented to him based on “compatibility” on the series of silly to serious questions he’d muddled through.

He grimaced and scrubbed his hands down his face as he scanned. The
women seemed lovely, everyone smiling and putting their best foot forward (often literally), and he tried to remind himself of what Dr. Suzuki had said, that the Internet was just a tool for modern people to connect. 

Not the last resort of losers in love that it felt like to him.

He noticed several profiles he liked the look of and clicked on them. Then he spotted a
Visitors
bracket next to a woman’s profile and realized in alarm that she could see he’d looked at her.

He clicked back to his own profile, clenching his abs tight with horror—seventeen
women had checked out his profile already.

Dear God. He felt naked.

Three had messaged him. “Hi. The computer thinks we’re compatible. What do you think?” said one.

“No,” he muttered aloud, glancing over the blonde with a belly button ring that reminded him way too much of Alixia Lepler.

“Hey, I see you’re in construction. I wouldn’t mind you checking out my specs,” said another.

“Not up to code,” he muttered, clicking on the last one.

“What? Can’t believe you’re on here! Say thanks to your mama for dinner!” It was Tami, luscious in her coconut bra and hula skirt outfit. The computer matched them with a 78 percent compatibility ratio, the highest he’d seen yet.

He laughed.

This was never going to work, so what the hell. Might as well have a little fun with it. He signed up for a Crazy Blind Date with a random companion for the following night.

Zoe poured herself a glass of wine and started a microwave dinner of pasta and veggies, then sat down in front of her computer. It had felt good to hop in the shower and rinse off the makeup from her blind date and the sand from the beach. Comfy in a silky sleep tee and robe, she opened the document she’d started for the article on Internet dating. Her fingers flew as she
threw restraint out the window and described her encounter with Lukas the dancing, big-wave-riding Brazilian bodybuilder.

What an athlete, Zoe thought as she hunted for the right descriptions and did some research on Jaws, or Peahi, as the surf
break outside of Paia was really called. Surfers came from all over the world to tow or paddle into the massive, perfectly formed waves that rolled in each winter, and Lukas appeared to have come for that and become part of Maui’s multicultural landscape.

Lukas really did have a sweet manner and some major physical skills. Too bad he wasn’t “good with the words.”

But wait.

She wasn’t really dating for herself. She was dating for the article. Which meant she couldn’t ethically approach anybody since she had a fake identity. Which meant Crazy Blind Date was really the only option open to her at the moment. She could disclose the purpose of the date when and how she felt able to.

Zoe went back onto the dating site, opened her profile—and saw that thirty-seven men had looked at it.

Only one had messaged her. “Hi.
You’re beautiful and seem like someone who wants to live life to the fullest. Have you tried the polyamorous lifestyle? Message me if you are feeling adventurous!”

“I’m apparently not willing to live life that fully,” Zoe muttered, hitting D
elete on the message. She didn’t like how the message made her feel like a prude.

Dear God, she felt naked.

Even though she was hiding behind fake answers, men were checking her out and finding her uninteresting. Except the weirdos. They were judging her by her food-critic, instrumental-music-loving Gemini profile.