Tiki Beach Episode 8: K & K are joined by a consultant

And she has an important announcement for Kat and Keone

Don’t forget to hit the ❤️ so I know you’re with me!

Episode 8:

The distinctive sound of tires on gravel announced a visitor—not the gentle crunch of a cautious driver, but the confident approach of someone who knew exactly where they were headed, and they were pulling up in front of the shack.

There was no window at the front of the building, so Keone cracked the door to peer outside, squinting against the late afternoon sun. He broke into a smile.

"It's Mom," he said, his voice carrying that special blend of respect and fondness he reserved for her. “Hey, Mamasita,” he called out to her. “What brings you this way?”

“Just popping by to see my two favorite investigators,” she called back. I heard her car door slam.

Meanwhile, I shoved the file drawer that held the incriminating envelope shut with a metallic bang that seemed to echo in the small space. My guilty conscience was kicking into gear big-time.

A minute later, Ilima stood framed in the entrance, backlit by golden sunshine that created a halo effect around her impressive silhouette.

At sixty-five, she remained a striking woman—tall and statuesque, with silver-streaked black hair pulled into a bun. Crowning her head was a lei po'o of purple orchids and ferns. She wore a traditional floor-length muumuu in a rich royal blue fabric patterned with subtle white ginger flowers. The garment whispered against the wooden floor as she moved, exuding the faint scent of pikake and something distinctly more expensive—the French perfume I’d given her for Christmas this last year.

“Wow, Mom, you’re looking fancy.” Keone enveloped Ilima in a hug that lifted her sandal-shod feet slightly off the ground. "We weren't expecting you."

"I have news that couldn't wait, and neither of you answers your phones." The gentle rebuke carried amused exasperation.

I reflexively checked my phone and winced seeing three missed calls. "Sorry, Auntie. We were just discussing—"

“No worries. I know you’re both busy.” She turned to me, arms outstretched. "Come here, Kat.” I stepped into her embrace, breathing in her scent as she hugged me. Ilima's hugs were legendary—somehow both gentle and fierce, like she was imparting strength directly into your soul. When she pulled back, she took my wrist in her hand, examining the gold bracelet that had once been hers. She admired the arc of gold with raised black enameled letters, her thumb brushing over the intricate Hawaiian pattern spelling out Kuuipo (sweetheart.) "Beautiful," she said softly, “Just as when Keone's father gave it to me as an engagement gift. It looks good on you."

“Thanks, Auntie Ilima. It means a lot to me.” The bracelet had been passed to me last Christmas by Keone on her behalf. It wasn't just jewelry; it was acceptance into a family I'd grown to love deeply.

“So what’s this news that brings you all the way out to our humble headquarters?" Keone asked, as he pulled our least-rickety chair out for his mother and handed her a glass of iced tea he’d poured. "We're trying to understand what happened to Pearl.”

“As am I," Ilima replied, taking a refreshing sip. "Particularly since Pearl was to play a significant role in my announcement next week." Her eyes widened with excitement. "A role I was hoping you two might share in as well."

"Announcement?" I echoed. A breeze through the open window on the back wall stirred the humid air.