HIGH TIDE by Maureen A. Miller Page A

hand tugging the cotton fabric of Keito’s dress.
    “Yo u’re as subtle as a hungry lion,” Keito admonished.
    Leaning against the counter, Briana smiled at the woman with black hair laced with silver strands. It was hoisted into a tight bun —so tight it nearly straightened any wrinkles that might have formed around Keito Takanawa’s sharp eyes.
    “As are you. Why didn’t you simply demand her birth certificate and a resume?”
    “Briana,” Keito began patiently as she peered through the oven door. “When is the last time Naoki brought a woman here for dinner?”
    “Two days ago, and I must say the chicken teriyaki was exceptionally good the other night.”
    “Don’t start with me, girl.”
    A smile that revealed the depth of love she held for Naoki’s grandmother curved Briana’s lips. She reached into the refrigerator and poured four glasses of iced green tea.
    “I don’t know,” Keito continued, “there’s something about her—” Never completing the thought, instead she rushed on to the next culinary task.
    Yes, there was something about Joy with no last name . Beautiful in a natural way, with no makeup to distort her features.  Quiet to the point that she rarely spoke unless spoken to. Nonetheless, there was something disturbing about the young woman.
    “You have to admit, you’re a bit intimidating.” Briana mused.
    “Hmmmph,” Dismissing her with the wave of a mitt, Keito spoke over running water.
    “Hey, will you two stop gossiping, and get out here?” A pair of black-framed glasses poked through the door.
    “On our way.”
    Once Naoki disappeared, Briana faced Keito and held a hand over her heart. “I really hope this works out for him.”
    ***   
    “So Joy, are you still in college, or working?”
    “Working.” The voice was refined, void of any accent.
    “Good, good.”Keito strove for patience over the single syllable answers. She caught a glimpse of her grandson’s smitten face, and the hand that rested only an inch from the graceful fingers beside it.
    She continued, carefully. “And where do you work?”
    A momentary frown wove across dark eyebrows before Joy set her fork down and met the Asian woman’s curious stare.
    “Research.”
    It was all Briana could do not to roll her eyes. Jumping in before Keito lost all composure, she commented. “For the university?”
    “No,” Joy sensed everyone watching her, and added evasively. “Historical.”
    “Oh,” Not sure what to make of that, and uncertain whether she should pursue the matter and enlist in more vacuous responses, Briana instead delved into the chicken and rice.
    “Joy hasn’t been on the island long, she’s been in L.A.”
    “ Oh .” Keito nodded, as if the Eastern Mecca of Los Angeles should explain any eccentricities. She dabbed at the corners of her lips with a napkin and met the level gaze of her visitor.
    “So, Joy, you like Hawaii? Do you surf?”
    Joy nodded. Then, as if realizing that the simple shrug would not suffice, she sighed and added, “Yes, actually I do.”
    Curiosity now toyed with Joy’s typically banal expression as she turned her attention towards Briana. False eagerness laced her monotone voice. “Would you like to come out with me some time?”
    “Bree doesn’t go in the water.” Naoki mumbled over a mouthful.
    “Why? Don’t you like it?”
    A charged pause elapsed, in which Briana sipped some tea and gazed through the curtains to the miniature, red-arched bridge and sculpted pond Keito had worked so industriously on. This garden would look wonderful as an entryway into the new site going up in Kona.
    “Her parents—”
    “Grandson!”
    Naoki’s head flew up and he tried to look angry, but squelched under his grandmother’s intense stare.
    Waiting a second to see what developed, Joy pressed the subject, suddenly interested in the dinner conversation. “The ocean is beautiful, it offers such treasures.”
    Fascinated with the slothful trek of a school of fat poi