Workers Comp and OSHA, along with the week’s work schedules forthe spa as well as the staff who worked at the hotel’s three restaurants.
The room must serve as the rest lounge for all the resort’s female employees. The colors were muted, just as in the guest locker rooms, but the lockers for the staff were smaller. A watercooler stood beside a table that held a basket of tea bags and sweetener. On the wall across from the bulletin board was a chart. In the left-hand column was a list of names, presumably the names of each of the employees. I scanned the list and noticed that Pualani Santos was listed. I also saw the name Keniki Hicks.
“Pardon me,” said a female voice from behind me. “This room is for the staff. Can I help you?”
I turned and faced a young woman with a long braid coiled on top of her head.
“Sorry,” I said. “I left my locker key in one of the treatment rooms. Pualani was my aesthetician. My name is Madeline Bean.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Bean,” she said, smiling warmly. “We have a master key to open the lockers. Just a moment and I’ll get someone to help you.”
“I didn’t notice any attendants out in the spa,” I said.
“No. We are very short staffed today. My apologies. We have had three of our girls cancel on us. Very distressing, I can tell you, with a full appointment calendar. Let me take you to your locker and use my own master key.” She led the way back to the luxurious guests-only locker room.
“Staff members haven’t shown up to work? Is that because of what just happened to Keniki Hicks’s boyfriend, Kelly?” I asked.
The young woman’s expression changed. She lost a little of her smooth guest relations veneer and becamejust a little more human. “Well, yes.” She looked at me with open curiosity then, and sighed. “I’m surprised you have heard anything about it so soon. I suppose all the guests will be talking about it.”
“Maybe not quite yet. But I am a friend of Keniki’s. She helped me with a luau last night.”
“I see,” said the young woman. We now stood in front of locker 22. She pulled a key from a ring hidden somewhere in the folds of her sarong—did those things have pockets? And used it to open my locker. “There you are.”
“I’m on my way over to her house right now. I want to offer my help if there is anything I can do to help her.”
“How very kind of you, Miss Bean. Keniki is a friend of mine too. It’s her sister Cynthia who didn’t come to work today. She is one of the masseuses here, one of our best specialists. And also two other girls who are Keniki’s best friends. So here is your locker. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“I should cancel my next appointment,” I said.
“I believe you were scheduled for a manicure/pedicure next. No problem. I am happy to cancel that for you. With our staff shortage, it will be a little bit of a relief, actually. Is there anything else?”
“I have Keniki’s address in my room.”
The young woman hesitated only a moment and then said, “I’ll draw a map for you. I’ll be right back.”
As she left, I quickly got back into my shorts and T-shirt, and traded the disposable plastic spa flip-flops for my own beach-worthy pair of flip-flops. Hawaii, gotta love the dress code.
By the time I was tossing the spa’s batik robe into a nearby wicker laundry basket, the woman with thecoiled braid had returned, carrying a bright green shopping bag from the gift shop of the Sports Club and Spa.
“I was wondering if I might ask you to do us a favor?” she asked, speaking softly.
“Of course.”
“I am not sure when Keniki will be returning to work.” She looked sad, and I could imagine that each of the young women who worked at this resort must empathize greatly with one another. They must all have boyfriends or young husbands. How could they not wonder what it would be like if something this awful had happened to them and their loved ones? “These are the
The room must serve as the rest lounge for all the resort’s female employees. The colors were muted, just as in the guest locker rooms, but the lockers for the staff were smaller. A watercooler stood beside a table that held a basket of tea bags and sweetener. On the wall across from the bulletin board was a chart. In the left-hand column was a list of names, presumably the names of each of the employees. I scanned the list and noticed that Pualani Santos was listed. I also saw the name Keniki Hicks.
“Pardon me,” said a female voice from behind me. “This room is for the staff. Can I help you?”
I turned and faced a young woman with a long braid coiled on top of her head.
“Sorry,” I said. “I left my locker key in one of the treatment rooms. Pualani was my aesthetician. My name is Madeline Bean.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Bean,” she said, smiling warmly. “We have a master key to open the lockers. Just a moment and I’ll get someone to help you.”
“I didn’t notice any attendants out in the spa,” I said.
“No. We are very short staffed today. My apologies. We have had three of our girls cancel on us. Very distressing, I can tell you, with a full appointment calendar. Let me take you to your locker and use my own master key.” She led the way back to the luxurious guests-only locker room.
“Staff members haven’t shown up to work? Is that because of what just happened to Keniki Hicks’s boyfriend, Kelly?” I asked.
The young woman’s expression changed. She lost a little of her smooth guest relations veneer and becamejust a little more human. “Well, yes.” She looked at me with open curiosity then, and sighed. “I’m surprised you have heard anything about it so soon. I suppose all the guests will be talking about it.”
“Maybe not quite yet. But I am a friend of Keniki’s. She helped me with a luau last night.”
“I see,” said the young woman. We now stood in front of locker 22. She pulled a key from a ring hidden somewhere in the folds of her sarong—did those things have pockets? And used it to open my locker. “There you are.”
“I’m on my way over to her house right now. I want to offer my help if there is anything I can do to help her.”
“How very kind of you, Miss Bean. Keniki is a friend of mine too. It’s her sister Cynthia who didn’t come to work today. She is one of the masseuses here, one of our best specialists. And also two other girls who are Keniki’s best friends. So here is your locker. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“I should cancel my next appointment,” I said.
“I believe you were scheduled for a manicure/pedicure next. No problem. I am happy to cancel that for you. With our staff shortage, it will be a little bit of a relief, actually. Is there anything else?”
“I have Keniki’s address in my room.”
The young woman hesitated only a moment and then said, “I’ll draw a map for you. I’ll be right back.”
As she left, I quickly got back into my shorts and T-shirt, and traded the disposable plastic spa flip-flops for my own beach-worthy pair of flip-flops. Hawaii, gotta love the dress code.
By the time I was tossing the spa’s batik robe into a nearby wicker laundry basket, the woman with thecoiled braid had returned, carrying a bright green shopping bag from the gift shop of the Sports Club and Spa.
“I was wondering if I might ask you to do us a favor?” she asked, speaking softly.
“Of course.”
“I am not sure when Keniki will be returning to work.” She looked sad, and I could imagine that each of the young women who worked at this resort must empathize greatly with one another. They must all have boyfriends or young husbands. How could they not wonder what it would be like if something this awful had happened to them and their loved ones? “These are the
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