Kai

Kai is four. Biracial, with light olive skin a shade lighter than his mama’s, soft tousled brown hair, and big curious hazel-green eyes. He’s spent his whole life moving — Hilo is the third home he can remember, and the warmest. He’s shy at first and warm once he settles.

Where the world is loud, Kai is the still small voice. Where adults are tired, he’s paying attention.

He’s the one who notices the pineapples first, the one whose wordless tug on Mama’s hand sets the whole discovery in motion. Mama is the one who builds the business. Kai is the one who helps her see it. Snowy is always somewhere nearby.

“Where the world is loud, Kai is the still small voice.”