“Richard.”

“Okay, Dick—let’s go.”

The luau was being held in the garden in the rear of the Mahenilis’ home. Under gaily striped awnings, long tables had been set up. They were decorated with fragrant-smelling ferns, flowers, pineapples and bananas.

At each place setting, there had been placed a niu, a coconut with its top slashed off, still containing the wai niu, or coconut water, which would be sipped with the meal.

Hank Mahenili stood over the lua—the hole Biff and Li had dug earlier in the day—making sure that the puaa was done to a turn. A luau isn’t the real thing without a roast pig.

“All ready, everyone,” Hank called out, and started cutting pieces of the pig. The meat was so tender it fell apart. Hank placed the meat on ti leaves, and servants carried it to the tables.

“What a meal!” Biff said, finding his place beside Li. “Never saw so much food.”

In addition to the puaa, there was a umeke, a small bowl, of poi—taro root pounded to a paste. There was a dish, called pa, of lomilomi—salmon, which didn’t look a bit like salmon, since it had been shredded and kneaded into a salad. There was also a dish of moa, chicken cooked in coconut juice, and another pa of opihi, a small, delicately flavored shell fish.

This wasn’t all. There were pas of i’a, fish, and sweet potatoes, called uwala kalua.

“If I eat all this, I’ll explode,” Biff said.

“Here, have some of this,” Li said.

“What is it?” There was a suspicious look on Biff’s face.

“It’s delicious. Called limu.”

Biff took a small bite. His face lit up. “It’s good. But what is it?”

“Seaweed,” Li said and burst out into laughter.

“Honestly. This is seaweed?”

“That’s right. Not the kind you know, though. This is an edible seaweed.”

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