Tomorrow marks the official release of my newest Orchid Isle mystery, Murder, Local Style. The book is set in a small neighborhood reminiscent of the street where Robin and I live in Hilo, Hawai‘i, and concerns the local orchid society that my protagonist, Valerie Corbin, joins in order to make some friends in her new-found home.

Robin and I adore our neighborhood and are eternally grateful to my parents, Ken and Smiley, with whom we originally bought our house. We first started visiting Hilo because of my mom and dad, who fell in love with the place back in the early 1980s. But it was my mother who was the primary force behind our purchasing a home here together, for she would have loved to have moved here permanently. Since my father was unwilling to do so, we came up with a compromise and went in together on a house where Robin and I would spend half the year, and my parents would come for several months at a time.

Ken and Smiley on our front lānai

Both my parents are now gone, but everywhere I look in this house I am reminded of my mother. She and I purchased much of the furnishings together on Saturday garage-sale trips, and the two of us picked out much of the art that hangs on the walls. But mostly it’s the myriad ceramics she made, which can be found in most every room.

Smiley was a talented potter, and once she started spending time on the Big Island, she began crafting ceramic works of art inspired by this amazing place: pieces depicting ancient Hawaiian petroglyphs, tropical fish, and volcanoes:

And this amazing spatter cone:

More fish, including some fantastical ones:

So when I started drafting the manuscript for Murder, Local Style, I knew I wanted to include Mom in the story somehow. And what better way than by having ceramics be part of the plot? Thus was born the fictional Mo‘o Gallery in downtown Hilo. You can thank my mother for the details about glazes, firing, and modeling techniques, for although I did have to research a fair amount, I was surprised at how much information about pottery had rubbed off on me from her over the years.

And yes, I named one of the potters at the studio Doris, after my mother’s given name: Doris Smiley Cook (though she went by Smiley all her life).

So mahalo, Mom. Aloha wau iā ʻoe.

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Readers: Do you have things around your house that remind you of someone who’s no longer with us?