Quinn was taken aback. She wanted them out of her house, but she hadn’t even considered paying them to leave. Now she felt stupid. She should’ve offered the money yesterday.

She shook her head. “Nope. Wasn’t me.”

Maria relaxed, the sternness leaving her face as confusion set in.

“Then I don’t know who did. That means I can’t give it back. Can’t say I don’t need it, though. The kitchen is practically bare of groceries, and if I don’t get a new tire on my car, we’ll all be walking. Pali needs new cleats for football, too, though he says he can make do with last year’s pair.”

Quinn stood at the bottom step, biting her lip. Five hundred dollars could also pay for a moving truck, but Maria obviously hadn’t thought of that.

“Come in,” Maria said, folding the envelope into her pocket before waving Quinn up the steps. “I’m making some brunch for Kupuna. Don’t say anything to him about the money.”

Quinn wasn’t sure what a kupuna was, but she followed.

Maria led her through the living area to the kitchen. The coffee she was brewing smelled intoxicating. The girl was there, sitting at the table with an old man. They were studying a paper between the two of them, though Alani held the pencil.

He looked up, his face impassive, and it felt like he looked right through Quinn. If she could guess, she’d put him at around eighty years old. He wasn’t a large man, though he appeared to be strong and wiry. His skin was dark and seasoned from the sun in a way that could only come from decades of embracing the outdoors. The many lines around his mouth and eyes were deep, but they made an interesting road map of years of wisdom and experience. What he had left of his hair stood up in silvery tufts, and as she looked, he ran his hand through them.

“This is my father. We call him Kupuna,” said Maria.

The old man nodded, but Quinn felt silently chastised.

“Aloha,” he finally said, before returning his attention to his granddaughter.

“Aloha,” Quinn replied, feeling awkward, especially now that she knew what it meant and had a feeling that the old man was being gracious by using it.

She’d read an article on the plane ride over that described the misunderstanding of the word used for greeting. Most mainlanders were under the impression that aloha was the word used for both “hello” and “goodbye.” But the article stated it was much more, that aloha meant “love,” “peace,” and “compassion.” More than a word, a life of aloha meant the heart was overflowing, and when using it, one should be sincerely happy to see the person they said it to.