A/N: This one took a while to write because I was juggling so many plot threads, but I finally managed to get control of them all. Enjoy, and thanks to "the usual suspects", as always!

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§ § § -- February 11, 2004

Christian brought the car to a stop in front of the main house and gave Leslie a stern look. "Now if you have any more trouble with those ankles, call me," he said firmly. "I'll come and take you over to Dr. Hannaford's office myself. Did you call her as I told you to do?"

"Yes, and she said it's normal for a pregnant woman to have swollen ankles," Leslie told him. She shook her head in amusement. "Christian, my love, you said you've been through all this before with your sister and sisters-in-law. Why are you such a bag of nerves now? They don't hurt, at least as long as I don't try to stand up all day. And before you ask, my next appointment with her is the nineteenth, so please just calm down."

"I'm a bag of nerves," Christian informed her, "because it's you, not Anna-Laura or Amalia or Kristina. I don't want anything happening to those babies—and I especially don't want anything to happen to you. Even with the children, I could never get along without you. It took me so long to find you…"

She smiled and tipped to one side to kiss him. "I know, my darling," she said. "But us preggos are tougher than you think. Just ask your sister."

Christian chuckled, sounding a little reluctant. "All right, I'll stop," he said. "I'm going to be late for work anyway. Just keep me informed of anything unusual. I love you, my Rose. Have a good day."

"I love you too," she assured him, and they kissed again. "Enjoy your day and we'll see you at lunch." He nodded, and she slipped out of the car, heading for the house with slightly more gingerly steps. Just a few days before, she'd begun sprouting all sorts of pesky pregnancy symptoms: swollen ankles, a slightly achy abdomen, dizziness, an increased heart rate, an even more increased appetite (which had delighted Mariki no end), and even a nosebleed, which had terrified Christian. Leslie was getting tired of his urgings to call the doctor every time something new came up, and she wished there were some way to settle him down without bothering Dr. Hannaford.

She waved at Christian from the porch, and he waved back and finally drove away up the lane. She watched him go before heading into the house, where Roarke was at the desk dealing with a stack of mail. "Good morning, Leslie," he said and smiled. "How are you feeling? Is there anything new to report?"

"Mostly new nuisances," Leslie admitted, closing her purse away in the back of the drawer and gathering up a little more than half the remaining envelopes. "Aches and pains, swollen ankles, and a nosebleed yesterday that practically gave poor Christian a heart attack when he saw it. Every little thing that goes wrong, he wants to panic at Dr. Hannaford. I don't have a clue how to calm him down."

"Will he be with you at your appointment next week?" Roarke queried.

"If he has anything to say about it, he will be," said Leslie, and he chuckled. "I intend to take advantage of that and ask Dr. Hannaford to tell him to quit going nuts every time I hiccup. I wouldn't call her when my nose started bleeding, so he did…and she told him it's not an unusual symptom of being pregnant. Even then he still wasn't very sure. If he's this bad now, wait till after the babies get here. He'll be impossible."

Roarke was laughing by now. "Try to take it with a few grains of salt, Leslie," he said. "As well, you might look at it as a sign of his concern for you, that he loves you and the babies very much. It's the same motivation that prompted him to ask me to cancel your participation in time-travel fantasies until after you've given birth. At this point I believe that's wise. Before you object, you should remember what I've told so many guests over the years: I cannot cancel a fantasy once it's under way, and what happens in the course of any fantasy is not under my control. Like Christian, I prefer not to take unnecessary chances, so you will remain in the present day until the twins have arrived."

Leslie considered that, settling in one of the chairs in front of the desk with the mail she had picked up. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I guess you're right, Father. I just hope we don't get any really interesting ones till after the ban's lifted."

Roarke laughed again, and at that moment there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called, and a young Asian man stepped into the foyer and paused at the top of the steps. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a T-shirt bearing the logo of a heavy-metal band, and had a disgruntled look about him.

"Hi, Jeremy," Leslie said. "What's up?"

Jeremy Ichino came into the room and settled in the other chair. "I wanted to ask if you might have some job openings," he said, sounding grudging.

"At the moment, I don't," Roarke replied, pausing to give him a quizzical look. "However, you seem, shall we say, less than enthusiastic."

Jeremy sighed and slumped in his seat, rolling his eyes theatrically. "It's my mom and dad, Mr. Roarke," he said with a put-upon sigh. "They're on my case about getting a job, and to them, that means working in some stuffy building, nine to five, Monday through Friday. I can't hack that kind of thing. I'd suffocate in a place like that."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other. "Well," Leslie said, "what do you enjoy most?"

"Being a roadie," Jeremy replied immediately.

Leslie grinned, and Roarke said with amused sympathy, "Unfortunately, Jeremy, we have nothing in that department anywhere on the island." Jeremy's features collapsed into a disgusted scowl, and he added, "But before you grow completely disenchanted, I know of a vacancy that might interest you. Since you seem to have the desire to work in a field related in some way to show business, you might try applying for a disk-jockey position at the radio station in town. The afternoon jockey has accepted an offer from a station in Hawaii and will be leaving this weekend. Would that appeal to you?"

Jeremy stared at him. "A DJ?" he mumbled. It was clear from his expression that the idea had never entered his mind. "Don't you have to go to school for that, though?"

Leslie grinned again. "I'm sure that doesn't hurt," she said, "but this is a local station, with a small broadcast range, so I imagine your chances are as good as anyone else's. I know you can talk, because I remember three summers ago when you talked your way into being a roadie for a band that was performing at the amusement park. I didn't think it was possible for anyone's mouth to move that fast." Jeremy grinned sheepishly back, and Roarke and Leslie laughed. She continued, "I figure you might have to audition, but if you can talk like you did that time at the park, then you should have a good shot at it."

Jeremy snickered. "Yeah, maybe I do. Okay, I'll go over right now. Thanks for your help, Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie." He arose, then noticed Leslie unconsciously smoothing her hand over her swollen abdomen. "Wow, Miss Leslie, you can really see the baby now!"

"Twins," Leslie said, grinning up at him. "What rock were you under that you didn't know that?"

Jeremy's eyes popped. "No kidding, twins? Well, I've been working at Disneyland, on the stage crew for their musical shows. Jonathan said you're expecting and Prince Christian's bustin' at the seams, but he forgot to mention you're having twins. That's really cool. Anyway, thanks again." He trotted out of the house, and Roarke and Leslie looked at each other again.

"Do you think he has any chance of getting the job?" Leslie asked. "I mean, seriously. I remember someone I went to high school with announcing he was going to broadcasting school so he could be Casey Kasem's successor. I know it's a small station, but what do you really think Jeremy's chances are?"

"If he's as glib as you implied he is," Roarke said with a chuckle, "I should think his chances would be just fine." She giggled, shook her head and slit open another envelope.

‡ ‡ ‡

When the knock came, thirteen-year-old Denise Polidari sat up in amazement and shot her older sister an excited look. "Hey, someone's visiting! Be right back!"

Sixteen-year-old Janine Polidari scowled. "You better look through the peephole first, you dork. We don't know anybody on this freaking island."

"Well, maybe we should start getting to know people," Denise suggested. Ignoring her sister's rude snort of response, she went to the door, squinted through the peephole and sighed, opening the door and simultaneously calling back to Janine, "Aw, man, it's only Uncle Jeremy."

Jeremy, toting a suitcase, stared at her in mock affrontery as he came in. "Geez, what a heartfelt welcome that was. 'Only Uncle Jeremy'? Thanks a lot, kid."

Denise grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Uncle Jeremy. Hey, what're you doing with that? Staying over?"

"Hopefully. Where's your mom?" Jeremy asked.

"Who the hell cares?" Janine grunted, her nose buried in a book.

Denise rolled her eyes. "Mom's at work, of course. Where else would she be? She oughta be home around five-fifteen or so, I guess. How come?"

"I've gotta talk to her about something," Jeremy said. "How about you guys doing me a favor and helping me get those boxes in here? It looks like it might rain."

"Omigod, rain? Here, on the most stunning piece of paradise on the entire planet?" drawled Janine, voice dripping sarcasm. "I'm sure Mr. Roarke'd never let that happen."

Jeremy eyed her. "If you're gonna be like that, go back to your book and good riddance to you, brat. Come on, Denise, let's get to it."

Janine threw the book aside and got to her feet with a show of reluctance. "Oh, all right." She came into the hallway and stared at the three stacks of boxes sitting in the front yard. "Are you moving in?"

"Well, that depends on what your mom says," Jeremy told her, blowing out his breath and glancing into the cloudy sky. "My parents pretty much threw me out." Janine and Denise both stared at him while he stepped outside and went to lift a box off a stack. "I looked around here, but there aren't any vacant apartments right now, and I can't move into the ones at the pineapple plantation, because you have to be an employee to get a place there and I wouldn't work down there if Mom and Dad held a shotgun to my butt." He paused on the front walk. "Are you gonna help, or just stare at me all afternoon?"

Denise and Janine came out then, still looking puzzled. "That's wicked mean," Janine commented, scowling. "Why'd they throw you out?"

"Because they don't like the job I just got," Jeremy said shortly. "Look, can we wait till your mom gets home before I talk about this? I'm in a crappy mood right now."

The girls helped him get his things into the house, then flopped into chairs in the living room while Jeremy perched on the edge of the sofa and studied his hands. "So how's school going?" he asked his nieces idly.

Janine grunted, "Same old, same old."

"I kinda like it," Denise said a little tentatively, casting her sister a hesitant glance. "I mean, I joined two clubs, and everybody seems nice…it's just hard to make friends."

Jeremy raised his eyebrows at her. "You've been here since October. Is it that bad?"

"It's easier for her than me," Janine said sourly. "I keep bugging Mom to let me go back and live with Dad so I can finish school with my old friends in Brookline, but she keeps saying no. She claims Dad doesn't want us anyway."

"Well, he doesn't," Denise sneered. "It'd ruin his image." The last word came out with a twisted lip and a la-de-da singsong that made Jeremy look at her oddly.

"What image?" he asked.

Janine and Denise looked at each other; Janine's face turned deep crimson, and Denise made a disgusted face. "Ask Mom," was all she would say.

Jeremy shrugged and changed the subject; Denise was more animated than Janine, but neither girl wanted to say much at all. When the door opened and admitted the girls' mother, Jeremy was relieved. "Hi, sis," he said, standing up.

Andrea Ichino Polidari stopped short in the hallway and stared at him in amazement. "Jeremy? What're you doing here? How long have you been here?"

"Hour or so," he said. "Uh…sorry about all this stuff…" Andrea was eyeing the boxes in the hallway. "I have this gigantic favor to ask you."

Andrea assessed the boxes, the suitcase that sat nearby, and gave him a wry smile. "Don't tell me, let me guess. You want to move in."

Jeremy shrugged self-consciously. "Yeah, well…I just got a decent new job, but it's not good enough for Mom and Dad, and they told me it's time I started supporting myself, so I'm out. Trouble is, there aren't any vacant apartments right now, and I know there's no room in Jimmy and Camille's place, and Jonathan and Julianne are already sharing an apartment. You've got a basement, don't you? Finished, right? Could I use it?"

"You wanna live down cellar?" Janine asked, amazed. "It's not totally finished. There's a carpet on the floor, but the walls are cement, and it smells moldy."

"Musty, actually," Andrea said, "but she's right. Are you serious, Jeremy?"

"As a funeral," he assured her. "I'll pay you rent, Andrea, but I really need someplace to live while I get on my feet and wait for an apartment to open up. I don't care what it smells like, I just need somewhere to sleep at night so I don't have to camp on the beach or something like that."

Andrea considered it, yawning and rubbing her forehead, wandering into the kitchen with Jeremy and the girls behind her. Finally she sighed. "Okay, Jeremy, I guess you can live here awhile. Uh…what's this job you just got? What kind of hours do you work, and what does it pay?"

"I'm the new afternoon DJ at the island radio station," Jeremy told her. "I do a four-hour shift five days a week, and mornings on Saturdays. I know it's only part-time, but they'll be paying me twelve bucks an hour. Not bad, huh?"

Andrea looked dubiously at him and said slowly, "Doesn't sound as if you could afford an apartment on that kind of money." She saw Jeremy's expression fill with frustration and rolled her eyes. "Jeremy, for crying out loud, I'm not trying to be like Mom and Dad and tell you you have to get a nine-to-five job if you really don't want it, but how do you expect to make a living like that?" She drew in a breath. "I tell you what. I'll let you live in the basement for a hundred dollars a month, as long as you mow the lawn for me and take on your share of the household chores. That okay by you?"

"I'll take it," Jeremy said immediately, relief and gratitude filling his face. "Thanks, sis, I really appreciate this. Just let me know whenever you want me to mow."

"I will," Andrea said and looked at her daughters. "Whose turn is it to cook tonight?"

"Janine's," Denise said.

Janine scowled. "Can't we just order pizza?"

"No," Andrea said. "We've had so much pizza since we moved here, I'm pizza'd out. Besides, we just did major food shopping…and on top of that, my damned laptop went on the fritz today. Jeremy, does that computer shop that Jonathan and Julianne work for do repair work?" At Jeremy's nod, she asked, "What do they charge?"

"Probably depends on what's wrong with it," Jeremy said. "They're open till six, so you still have time to take it over there."

Andrea nodded. "I'd better go now, then. I depend on this thing too heavily to let it sit around for long. Janine, there's plenty of food in the kitchen." She picked up her laptop and started for the door.

"I don't feel like cooking," Janine snapped.

"Too bad," Andrea snapped back. "It's your turn, Janine, and you don't get to welch out on the agreement we all made when we first got here. I'll be back in a while." She left, and Janine glared after her.

Jeremy studied her. "Got a problem with cooking?"

"I'd have paid for the pizza," Janine protested.

Denise hooted, "With what? You just went into the village the other day and bought six fashion magazines! I remember, because you said you were totally broke after you got them!" She added for Jeremy's benefit, "She just hates cooking."

"Well, it's not my favorite thing to do either," Jeremy admitted with a grin, "but when you're hungry and you don't have money to order out, you do it. Come on, Janine, I'll help you out this time. Your mother doesn't have to know."