She gestured with a nod of her head that I should face round. I turned my head slowly, feeling a little confused. That was nothing compared to how I f...lt a moment later. Lisa was leaning back against the broad trunk of an old elm, almost in shadow save for slatted beams of light from a lantern back along the path that was filtered through the branches above her head. Her head was tossed back defiantly against the tree, her cool blue eyes fixed on me. Her gloved hands had drawn open the leather. She softened a bit when I said that, leaned in a little closer, put a hand on my forearm. I began to wonder if she liked me, but it might have just been the wine. I opened a second bottle. ————————- It was during that second bottle of wine that I learned Monique’s mother was Polynesian, a native of these islands. Her father was a French diplomat who had come to Papeete back in the 70’s, met her mother, and fallen almost instantly in love. They were married within months and within a few years. More

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