The sand underfoot made him feel like a little kid. He
retraced his steps and stopped by the first hotel that he reached on
the beach side of Kalakaua. It was older than the others. A huge tree
shaded a polygonal bar and a courtyard paved with stone. He ordered a
Glenlivet.
"Some tree! What kind is it?"
"Banyan," the bartender said.
"Oh." Hanging roots, dense green leaves, and thick nearly horizontal
branches created an inviting world. Oliver imagined a tree house. He
took a table in the shade and looked out over the ocean. Maybe he
should just be a tourist and forget the whole thing. He'd gotten along
without his father this long; what difference would it make to meet him
now? He didn't know. That was the problem. That was why he had to look
up Kenso Nakano--Ken--on Alewa Heights. Chances were good that Ken was
his uncle.
Oliver rolled the whiskey around in his glass. A very tall man in
shorts trudged past on the sand. He was a foot taller than a tall man.
Long legs held his upper body high in the air. Like a heron, Oliver
thought. Holy shit! Wilt Chamberlain! Wilt looked patient, proud, and
tired. A sports king, still holding his head up.
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