After lunch they drove back to the beach and then several hundred feet inland to the Wiamea Arboretum Botanical Garden where they marveled at the amazing plants and flowers. They wandered through the walkways, past ponds filled with lily pads large enough to lie down upon. Then they reached the famous Wiamea Valley waterfalls, which they had seen so many times in movies and TV commercials. Carefully following the posted rules designed to protect the beautiful historic site, they made jump after jump from the high rocks down into the pool below the falls.

“Don’t tell my grandma that I went back in the water without waiting an hour,” Austin told Astrid.

“That’s a complete fallacy,” Astrid replied. “The very existence of stomach cramps brought on by strenuous physical activity is questionable, and the idea that they would cause anyone having them to suddenly sink like a stone is laughable. Now leg cramps while swimming are entirely possible, but eating before swimming could only help prevent leg cramps because your body is newly refueled.”

“You can tell all that to my grandma,” replied Austin. “But don’t tell her it has anything to do with me.”

Astrid found a lovely coral necklace and matching earrings in the gift shop, which she purchased for her mother. Finally they said goodbye to Cokie, who drove off in one direction, while everyone else piled back into the minibus and drove off in the other toward Kailua. When David dropped them all back at the Maxxim estate, Astrid carried herself back to Gardenia House and to her bedroom. Happily exhausted, she peeled off her swimsuit and cover up and climbed into a pair of comfy pajamas. Her afternoon nap began almost before her head hit the pillow.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

The girl inventor looked up into her Aunt Penelope’s face.

“Was I even asleep?”

“For more than an hour.”

“Well, heaven forbid I should waste more than an hour sleeping,” said Astrid with a frown.

“Get up,” said Penelope. “You can sleep when you’re old, or at least when you’re not in paradise.”

The fourteen-year-old looked at the clock beside her bed. The pointy hands of the art deco styled timepiece indicated 5:30.

“We’re not going to the club yet are we?”

“Don’t be silly. It doesn’t even open until 9:00.”

“Nine!” cried Astrid. “That’s practically bed time.”