Eve arrived in Kailua to find Aunt Meg had moved to an independent high-rise one town away, where a huge oxygen tank stood alongside a hospital bed. Meg called the tank her latest lover and the bed her chaise lounge. Plastic tubes coiled like a rattle snake ready to strike, rested atop the tank. Still, Meg has her good days when “Sexy at 70” fits. It was Eve’s second day in the islands when Meg waited for her under the porte cochere at Kauhale Maluhia, the indie living high-rise

Meg rose from a vinyl chair, all beauty and grace, breathing without strain. Her blonde hair, brushed back from her face, fell to the base of her shoulder blades. She wore a tailored white linen shirt unbuttoned to show off her lovely cleavage and the top of a lacy with bra, beige linen slacks with an island print scarf drawn through the belt loops, and sandals not meant for walking. Walk they did, inspecting flowers and shrubs on the residence grounds. They were crossing a drive when a security vehicle stopped and the driver stepped down to greet them. He had blue-black hair, an athlete’s build, eyes so dark no pupil showed, and a regal air.

“Good afternoon, ladies, can I be of help?”

Meg pulled herself straight and moved her shoulders so more cleavage showed. A light came on in her eyes when he noticed. “Oh, how I wish you could.” The young man’s attention cleared her lungs like a breath from that ugly tank in her apartment.

(Excerpt from Chapter 3, “Kauhale Maluhia,” RAIN SHELTERS and GHOST GODS.

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