A/N: I've had the basic idea for this story for about three years, but couldn't find a spot for it in the timeline till now. Some pertinent questions from Misheemom and PDXWiz helped it to finally fall into place, and now here it is. Thanks too for the loyal support from Harry2 and jtbwriter!

§ § § -- January 5, 2006

"Father told me to take as long as I needed," said Leslie a little uneasily, watching through the airplane window as their flight circled perpetually busy Logan-Martin International Airport, waiting its turn in the landing queue. "I'm considering stretching it out as long as I can, just so we don't miss another anniversary together like we did last year."

Christian grinned. "I can't blame you, and I certainly wouldn't object. You look very anxious, my Rose. Does this place bother you that much?"

She settled back against the seat, having ascertained that what little of Boston she was able to see was merely coming around for another pass, and sighed. "Well, not Boston itself. What I'm really dreading is making the drive to Connecticut. I'm glad at least you offered to come along with me." They had arranged to rent a car on Saturday the seventh to make the drive to Leslie's birthplace of Plainville, Connecticut, located in the western half of the state and thus necessitating a couple hours' drive from their base in Boston. They had already arranged to leave the triplets with Ingrid so that Leslie could take care of her business there.

"What are husbands for?" Christian teased gently. "Come on, my darling, it can't be all that bad. Do you have the same frightening memories of Plainville as you do of Susanville? Is that the reason you're so jumpy?"

"I think I'm trying to beat a deadline," Leslie admitted. "I still can't believe they're actually going to do it. I thought I'd faint when Father told me."

Christian glanced at her, a touch of worry in his eyes. The phone call Roarke had received just before their departure for Lilla Jordsö had come from the manager of the cemetery in Plainville where Leslie's grandmother, Ingunna Hansson Reed, had been buried in 1973. It was a small cemetery and no longer capable of accepting new burials; and it had been losing money for years. The owner of the land it occupied had finally decided to sell the acreage to a developer, and surviving kin of the many deceased who were laid to rest there were getting telephone calls advising them of the situation and asking what they wished to be done. The developer wanted to get started clearing the land by the first of February, which had shocked Leslie and angered Christian. Aware that they didn't have much time to make a decision and act on it, they had talked it over with Roarke. As it happened, Leslie didn't need time to think: she knew exactly what she wanted to do. Roarke had readily agreed with her that Leslie's beloved mormor should be reinterred on Fantasy Island, in the same cemetery where Helena Marsh, Tattoo and Teppo Komainen were buried.

"It's pretty callous-sounding, I'll say that," Christian mused, shaking his head slowly. "But on the other hand, what better excuse to move your grandmother to a place where her descendants can watch over her final resting place? Try to think of it as saving her memory, Leslie. I'm sure you've wondered who's tended her grave all these years."

"I've been back to see it only once in all the years since Michael packed us off to Susanville," Leslie told him. "That was on my way home from Lilla Jordsö, on my first trip there in 1993, the one when I found Frida's family."

"I see," said Christian, glancing at the triplets. He was sitting in the aisle seat across from Leslie, so that Karina and Tobias could wrestle each other for the view out the window; Susanna, sitting beside Leslie, had fallen asleep over an hour ago. "Did you do anything else when you made that visit?"

"I stayed in a hotel near the airport in New York City and rented a car just long enough to make the drive to Plainville and back," Leslie explained. "And I did nothing other than go visit mormor's grave. At least someone had been tending it, keeping the headstone clean and all that. I left some flowers. Might've been the only time anyone ever did." Her voice trailed into a pensive, guilty silence.

"No use fretting over what's done," Christian said softly. "Just consider it bringing her back home, hm? And you'll be able to tend her grave yourself."

"Yeah." Leslie blew out her breath and relaxed in the seat, trying to look at it from Christian's point of view. "I guess you're right."

He grinned. "You have a nasty little habit of dreading things that are likely to be completely harmless. Are you afraid of ghosts or something?"

He said it jokingly, but Leslie gave him a serious look. "You know better than to ask a question like that of someone from Fantasy Island. If there are any ghosts, though, I doubt I'd be afraid. I'd be anticipating mormor's ghost, and I'd love to talk to her again."

"She'd be proud of you, Leslie," Christian said, reaching briefly across the aisle and laying a hand on her arm. He smiled at her.

"That's because I married a Scandinavian," she retorted, grinning, and they both laughed. He retracted his arm as a flight attendant made her way down the aisle in response to someone's call, and Leslie relaxed. "Well, I must admit, I don't have nearly as much worry about this visit as I did when we went to Susanville a few years ago. I don't expect to run into many obstacles. The funeral director told Father he'd do whatever I asked, so I think I'll probably ask him to have whatever may be left of mormor's body cremated and placed in an urn so we can bring it back ourselves, without the hassle and expense of shipping a coffin."

"What of the headstone, though?" Christian asked. "I'm sure you'll want the original stone. If you're really worried about what it'll cost, don't. We can easily afford it."

"Yeah," Leslie admitted, blowing out the word on a sigh. "I guess so. And to tell the truth, I'd rather have the original stone anyway. It's made of New England granite, if I remember right. Mom insisted on that, and no matter how much Michael ranted and raved, she wouldn't back down."

"Good for her." Christian chuckled. "Well, then, I daresay you have little to fret over."

"I just wonder," Leslie mused slowly, the pensive expression back on her face, and he returned his full attention to her. "I wanted to cry at the funeral, but Michael wouldn't let me. I probably told you, he always regarded tears as a stupid female weakness that he didn't want his daughters indulging in. I had to stand there and hold back my emotions, but I can still remember how much I hated Michael for making me do it, and how I felt I was shortchanging mormor somehow."

"Is that when you renounced him?" Christian asked.

Just then, before Leslie could reply, the captain announced that they were now about to land, and they felt the airliner begin to descend. "Oh, finally," she murmured. "I'll tell you about it later on, my love. Better make sure Karina and Tobias are strapped in."

They were escorted off the plane by airport security, due to their being well-known royalty, and straight to a waiting limousine against which leaned Benjamin Keller, the brash Bostonian Christian remembered from their initial encounter on Fantasy Island. He came to life when he saw them emerge from the glass doors and beamed, walking toward them with a hand outstretched. "Welcome to Boston, Yaw Highness!" he exclaimed in his heavy Boston accent, making Leslie's ears perk up in spite of herself. "Good t'see yuh. Hope y'trip was good. And Yaw Highness…" Here he shook Leslie's hand. "Glad t'meet yuh. Yaw from New England too, right? Welcome back. Yaw registid at the Parkah House Hotel in they-uh best suite, two rooms, for the kiddos and yaw maid they-uh. Hope I'm not botherin' yuh with this right now aftuh yaw flight, but I just wanted t'tell yuh, Prince Christian, I picked out a prime location in Cambridge and I'm wuhkin' on gettin' the utilities goin'. I got desks and office supplies, last thing I need's the computiz, and I brought along a stack of applications faw yuh to look at when ya feel like. Anything I can do faw yuh, just lemme know."

"We appreciate your hospitality," said Christian. "At the moment we just need a good night's rest and a chance to catch up with the local clock before we get down to business. If you can leave me your mobile-phone number, I'll give you a call in the morning when I'm ready to come and take a look at the location you've picked out."

Keller nodded. "Yaw call, boss, anything y'say. Y'might have some phone messages at the hotel. Coupla neighbuhs o'my-in got the good wuhd on th'project heah, and next thing y'know, they-uh spreadin' the news. Kinda couldn't help it aftuh-rye told 'em it's gonna be the newest branch of Enstad Computuh Services." He looked sheepish enough that Christian evidently decided not to tear into him for the unwanted publicity. A certain amount of advertising was necessary to get the business off the ground, after all, and he couldn't help being who he was. They would just have to endure the interview requests in this country so obsessed with celebrity.

Christian visibly held back a sigh and just nodded. "I suppose that's to be expected. If you get any more calls in that vein, tell them I'm going to grant one all-inclusive interview while I'm here, and that it will deal exclusively with business and no idle gossip or silly questions. I'm here to get this branch running, and that's it, so I won't entertain tabloid rags or chatty celebrity magazines." Keller nodded, and Christian continued, "I appreciate the work you've done so far, Ben. But my wife has a little business she must conduct in Connecticut, and I promised her I'd go with her. I'll take applications to review while we're there, but other than that, I intend to concentrate solely on her affairs there. I'll call you when we return on Monday."

"Gotcha, boss," said Keller, and Leslie was relieved to see the Bostonian display the respect Christian deserved, as both a prince and the owner of the business Keller was so eager to help him expand here. "Connecticut ovuh the weekend, then down to serious business come Monday." He looked at Leslie and offered, "Good luck with whatevuh yaw doin', Yaw Highness."

"Thanks," said Leslie and smiled. "I hope you'll excuse us, but the triplets are starting to get cranky and I think we'd better get on to our hotel."

"By all means," Keller said expansively and gestured to the limo. "This'll be yaw transportation the whole while yaw heah. Boston's no city to drive in if yaw not a native, so yaw bettuh-roff usin' this. Faw that mattuh, Boston's not necessarily a city t'drive in if y'are a native." He chortled at his own wit, and Leslie grinned with appreciation; Christian allowed a strained smile before clearing his throat pointedly. Keller straightened abruptly. "Right, right. Good night, Yaw Highnesses, and have a good one."

"You too," Leslie replied, while Christian nodded once and promptly climbed into the car. Leslie handed in triplets one at a time and Christian strapped them into the car seats that the limo had been equipped with; then Leslie herself got in. She settled down as the trunk lid slammed down and the driver circled around to the front to take them to their destination. She smiled at her husband, who indulged in a huge yawn. "Poor Christian. The publicity machine's just grinding away at you again, isn't it?"

"It always does that," Christian admitted with an apologetic smile, "and it doesn't help that I'm tired and I just want some supper and then sleep. And I do have to confess, Keller's been right on the ball. He's accomplished more than I expected he would. I may not have to do any more than interview applicants and choose employees, and possibly some programming just to get the place up and running."

"You mean you think we could be home for our anniversary?" Leslie asked.

Christian half-shrugged and quirked a weary smile at her, then winked. "It's a possibility. I'd have to break my own speed-hiring record to get us home by the sixteenth, but stranger things have happened. First things first. Let's get settled, have something to eat and then get some sleep."

§ § § -- January 6, 2006

Christian didn't call Keller till nearly ten on Friday morning, just after he and Leslie had finished breakfast while Ingrid fed the triplets. Keller called for Christian within fifteen minutes, by which time Ingrid was eating her own meal, and that left Leslie at loose ends for a couple of hours while Keller took a still-jet-lagged Christian out to Cambridge in his own car and gave him a tour of the new location. Then Christian begged off for the day so that he and Leslie could plan their journey to Connecticut.

When he got back, Leslie was watching the last of the noon news on Boston's channel 5, the local ABC outlet. "It's sort of nice to get in step with what's happening in this city," she observed lightly when Christian let himself in.

His brows popped up and he grinned. "Anything interesting I should know about?"

"Well, there's a sort of buzz," Leslie admitted. "They mentioned as an aside that we're in town because of your new branch, but so far they have interviews only from Keller. I think they're anticipating a big TV interview. Who were you planning to grant one to?"

Christian stared at the screen, his grin fading and his brows sinking into a frown. "I'd been thinking The Boston Globe, but I forgot that television would be getting into the act as well. Maybe we'll have to let in one TV station and one Globe reporter."

She shrugged. "We can handle it. I'd rather concentrate on the trip to Connecticut right now. Do you still think we should rent a car, now that we have that limo?"

"Herregud, no. Let the driver earn his pay, I say." Christian sighed and tried to massage the back of his neck with his fingertips. "He can use that fancy bell-and-whistle GPS system to get us to Plainville, and we'll relax and you can tell me about the day you decided to reject Michael Hamilton as anything other than your biological parent."

Leslie got up and gently removed his hand, replacing it with her fingertips and rubbing at the base of his neck; he relaxed and let out an appreciative sigh, and she smiled. "It sounds like a good plan to me. You seem so tired, my love. Are you sure you don't want to take a vacation of some sort when we finally get home?"

"What parent of three toddlers gets any sort of vacation?" asked Christian good-naturedly, letting his head fall forward and smiling. "Ahhh, that feels wonderful. Thank you, my Rose, I'd forgotten that particular simple pleasure."

"Guess I'll have to do it a little more often, then," she teased. "Well, seems to me Ben Keller is your most enthusiastic promoter in these parts. Why don't you tell him to give the Globe and one of the TV stations a call, and set up something."

"You lived in the general vicinity at one time," Christian noted. "What station do you think would be best?"

"Oh, that's easy. We always got stations from both Boston and New York. Michael was born in this city, and he wanted to keep up on things here, so when I was little we had the tallest TV antenna in our school district." Christian laughed, and she grinned and continued, "The local PBS station would be our best bet, WGBH. Keller'll know which program would be the right one."

"Hmm, okay then. I guess after supper tonight, I'll give Keller one more call and have him set things up. We're probably better off doing it in the office."

"What's it look like?" Leslie asked curiously.

"Nice building," Christian murmured, sounding a little sleepy under her ministrations. "Recently vacated by a perfumery, of all things. Smelled interesting in there." Leslie laughed and felt his shoulders twitch in response before he went on, "Anyway, there's plenty of room. He's already got ten desks set up in there, and one out front in reception. I thought he was pretty ambitious myself, but he says the buzz is very favorable and thinks there'll be quite enough work for ten employees and a receptionist."

"Huh. Does he figure to pitch in if things get really busy?"

"That was one of my first questions when we had lunch the first morning he marched into my office on Fantasy Island. After all the various businesses he'd bragged about launching and then selling off at a nice profit, I had the idea that he knew a little about everything. Jack-of-all-trades, you know. But his thing apparently is managing a business without necessarily putting a hand into the actual reason for its existence. He's manager, accountant and payroll officer all rolled into one, it seems. Before we went to Lilla Jordsö, I took the information Mr. Roarke gave me and did a fairly in-depth background check on Keller. I got some good reports. Seems there are at least half a dozen companies that he either started from scratch, or bought, rebuilt and sold at a profit. They're all doing well. So I'm taking my chances here, but what I've heard is promising."

Leslie smiled and moved her hands to his shoulders, massaging in grasping motions that made him catch his breath the first couple of times before he settled into it. "Did you tell him what you told the family in Lilla Jordsö about how he'd better perform or he'll be out the door before he learns the other employees' names?"

This time his amused response was audible. "I did, and let me tell you, I subdued him pretty well with it, too. He blinked and looked a little shocked, and then cleared his throat rather loudly and made several effusive promises not to let me down. I admit to being a little surprised by his reaction…"

"That's probably because His Royal Highness reared up and issued a command again, my love," Leslie remarked teasingly. "You get 'em every time with that, whether you know it or not. Well, okay, so you have your self-appointed manager in line and knowing his proper place in the hierarchy, and he's going to be your publicity manager along with all the other stuff while we're here. Now can we put all that aside and try to map out the trip to Plainville, so I can quit wondering what I'll find when we get there?"

Christian ducked out from under her hands and turned to face her, smiling at her and cradling her face between his palms. "You won't know till you get there, my Rose, so you might as well learn to live with the anticipation. But you survived returning to Susanville with flying colors, so I'm sure this will be a piece of cake."

"Famous last words," she scoffed.

"Worrywart," he teased lightly. "If it's a matter of excising bad memories, then as I said, we can do that on the trip there. Just as you did on the drive between Reno and Susanville, remember? Calm down and put it out of your mind for the time being, my darling, and let's try to enjoy ourselves, even if we can't just pop out and do the usual touristy things in this town. Maybe in Plainville we'll be just a bit more anonymous."