A/N: This is actually part one of this particular tale because the printed version runs to more than 70 pages, and also because I had this amazing and incredible idea that made me wonder why I didn't think of it ages ago. That will be the story in between parts 1 and 2. This is a flashback, so if you're into those, enjoy!
§ § § - August 31, 2009
They were still watching the clock during the last hour or so of school; by the time it was twenty till three, Anastasia was nursing and showed no sign of being ready to finish. "It's all right," Christian assured his wife. "I'll pick up the triplets."
She grinned. "Try not to let them tell you too much about their day before you get them home," she said facetiously, and Christian laughed, knowing the futility of that as well as she did. She watched him depart, then peered at Anastasia, whose eyelids were drooping. "Hmm...somebody's getting sleepy, it looks like." She smoothed Anastasia's wispy caramel-colored hair, wondering how long it would take her and Christian to get used to the triplets' new status as schoolchildren.
It was a quarter past three, and Anastasia was back in her room napping away, when Christian and the triplets got back. "Mommy!" they shouted as Christian let them flock in ahead of him. Leslie welcomed them with a group hug and urged them to tell her about their first day of school, and found herself listening to excited stories of new songs they were learning, the kids they had met from other parts of the island, and particularly Karina's delight that she would soon learn to write her own name, among other things. "Then I can put my name on all my stuff and Susanna won't keep saying it's hers."
Susanna shot her a dirty look, but Leslie laughed. "Did you guys make any new friends the way Mrs. Moore said you would this morning?"
"Me and Kevin did!" Tobias spoke up. "His name's Ethan and he lives down at that big place where they grow all the pineapples. He has a fifth-grade sister."
"Oh, there you go, good for you!" Leslie praised her son as Christian settled onto the couch beside her. "Susanna, Karina, what about you?"
"Not yet," they said, and Susanna added, "But maybe we will tomorrow. Mrs. Moore said we're all gonna split up into big groups and we're gonna do a special art project together. And she said it'll be fun!"
"Did she tell you what kind of art project?" Leslie asked.
Karina shook her head. "No, but I hope we get to do a lot of coloring. That's my favoritest part."
"Then maybe you will, sweetie," Leslie said with a grin, and for a few more minutes the children excitedly related what they recalled from their first day before deciding they'd talked about school long enough and heading up to their rooms to retrieve toys to play with. Leslie peered at Christian. "How much did they tell you on the way home?"
He grinned. "Nothing they didn't tell you too, don't worry." They chuckled, and he gave her a gentle hug. "I presume the baby's sleeping. You know, it surprises me they didn't charge in here looking for something to eat as soon as they came in. I can remember being hungry almost every day after school, at least while I was a child."
"I usually was too," Leslie said thoughtfully, "as a little girl. Funny, I seldom got the after-school munchies once I came here to live with Father, though. Which, come to think of it, probably just gave Mana'olana and Mariki even more reason to scold me for not eating as much as they wished I would." He laughed, and she added with a grin, "I have a feeling it won't be long before they do start asking for after-school snacks, though. Having fun can take a lot out of you."
"I seem to recall that as well," said Christian humorously. "So how long has Anastasia been down for her nap? I thought you'd be busy with something, or perhaps sleeping yourself, when we got back."
"How could I sleep when I was anticipating the kids' stories about their first day of school? Actually I was just trying to think of what we should do for supper tonight. And I was going to ask you if you've checked to see whether Anna-Kristina's replied to your message yet." She picked up the cat, Magic, who had been snoozing beside her and had crawled into her lap when the triplets burst in, and arose alongside Christian.
"That's true...I should have thought of that earlier, but we were...shall we say, distracted?" Christian said with a grin, and she snickered cheerfully back and accompanied him upstairs.
In their library, where they kept all their books—including shelves set aside for their children's tomes—and their computers, Christian booted up his computer and settled back in the chair, watching Leslie put the cat on the floor and pull her chair over beside his. Magic began to investigate the contents of the lower shelves on the floor-to-ceiling bookcases they had had installed on two walls; the triplets' voices could be faintly heard from their bedrooms, clearly engrossed in play. "They're not fighting for a change," Christian said with a chuckle, glancing in the general direction of the children's rooms. "I wonder if kindergarten has already had some kind of impact on that."
"Don't say anything—if it has, you'll probably jinx it," Leslie wisecracked, and they laughed as Christian got online and signed into his e-mail. He still had a castle e-mail account and had set up one for Leslie some time ago, though she seldom used it. She watched him working; at fifty-one he still looked surprisingly youthful, though he did have some subtle silvering to his hair and his face showed some laugh lines. He was still the best-looking man she knew, though; and more importantly to her, he still had the same beautiful soul she had fallen in love with some thirteen years before. She suspected that at forty-four, she too was showing signs of encroaching middle age; but she didn't mind. She was happy, and that was what counted most.
"Hmm," murmured Christian, and she returned to the moment to see that he was staring at a message from Anna-Kristina. "I admit to pure surprise. Read that, my Rose."
She leaned forward and peered at the message, mentally translating it from its original jordiska. When she finished, she met Christian's gaze with astonishment. "She's planning to take the cure after all! I thought she'd decided not to."
"I did too," he remarked. "It certainly took her more than long enough to make the decision. I find it interesting that she won't arrive till October, though. I suppose she's had to make some sort of arrangement with Kai and the girls so that they're prepared to get along without her while she's here." He hitched the chair a little closer to the desk and pulled the keyboard toward him. "I'll tell her to start making travel arrangements and give us the information when she has it, and you make a note to set aside a pass for her to get onto the island. I wonder..." His voice trailed off as he started typing in jordiska; fluent as he was in both languages, Leslie had long since learned that Christian couldn't maintain simultaneous trains of thought in both.
"What do you wonder?" she asked once he had sent the message to his niece.
"Whether Rogan plans to change Mr. Roarke's system of access to the island." Something seemed to occur to him and he turned to her. "Come to think of it, Rogan is merely running the business, isn't he? If Mr. Roarke's named you his heir, decisions regarding anything else of that nature should fall to you."
"Oh, well..." Leslie made a face, which made him grin. "I figure, why fix something that isn't broken. Oh wow, I've really got to talk to Father about all these pesky little details. I can't believe how petty and microscopic bureaucracy can get. Don't laugh, or I'll make you help." She watched Christian try, though not very hard, to choke back his amusement. "I'm going to make a phone call...do whatever you have to."
By four o'clock, Christian had conducted all the business he needed to handle online, and Leslie was still on the phone with Roarke, making copious notes on a yellow legal pad. He settled back in his chair, letting it tilt back to its limit, and watched her scribbling down yet another bit of information, shaking his head to himself. It was quite likely she was going to need his help after all, judging from the number of question marks he could see on the pad even from where he sat. Bureaucratic functions were not his strong suit, but he knew a little something about law—jordisk law, at least—from having hung around Carl Johan during the latter prince's first and only year of law school, when Christian was about ten. Some things, he knew, were universal.
It took her nearly another ten minutes to finally conclude her phone call and hang up, and that was only because her phone was about to die on her, as she told Roarke. Christian grinned when he heard that and held out his hand when she cut the connection. "Let's see that pad," he said expectantly. "From the look of it, you ended up either with only a few of the answers you were looking for, or answers that merely raised more questions."
"It's probably some of both," Leslie admitted, "but the trouble is that half of that stuff has nothing to do with running the island. What I mean is, the things with question marks are items I'll go over with Father in more depth when he and I can talk it out in person. See where I put asterisks next to a bunch of those question marks?" Christian nodded, and she met his gaze. "That's the stuff you and I need to talk about."
Christian made a noise of acknowledgment, mingled with curious interest, and put his full attention to her notes. After a minute or two he remarked, "I notice here you did ask about the charter-plane pass system. I had no idea you knew that little about it. I assumed you had intimate understanding of the workings of everything involved with Mr. Roarke's business. Yet you write here that you need to ask him how he collects the passes that have been turned in by passengers, and how to differentiate between passes given to guests and the ones held by students coming from the military base, and how many passes there are overall." He looked up. "I truly thought you knew that."
"If you take a quick look at all that," said Leslie sourly, "it turns out that what I know about the business is nothing compared to what I don't know. I know we already talked to Grady about taking over general lawmaking and enforcement once Father has to, well, go, so we don't have to worry about that aspect of running the island. I knew that Father has something like two hundred islanders on his payroll, including the anglers down at the fishing village who keep the hotel and the pond restaurant in seafood. And I knew that the pay for the island's constabulary—all five of them—is part of his biweekly payroll. What I didn't know is that he owns the pineapple plantation—including the apartment buildings on that property—the apartment complex in town, and all the marinas on the island. So he collects rent from the apartments and boat rental from all the marina slips; and he sees to it that anything the plantation earns from selling pineapples abroad is put back into the operation of the whole place. That's the source of the workers' paychecks and all the equipment and material needed for the next crop of pineapples. It's a staggered system so that at least two rows of plants are producing fruit..."
"Herregud," muttered Christian, shaking his head a little.
"Yeah, me too. Father did advise me that I don't really have to know the mechanical aspects of pineapple production. I just have to be sure that the place is running smoothly and according to the rules he made—heavily revised after the original plantation house caught fire and he took over the whole setup by right of eminent domain. I also didn't know that he goes out himself on the first day of every month and collects all the rent checks from the rental offices at both apartment complexes and at the office at each marina. He's had a policy in place for years that whatever he gets in rent from the apartments goes into a fund for maintenance, upkeep, and whatever improvements need doing on a regular basis." She pulled in a breath as Christian stared at her, having all but forgotten the legal pad he still held. "Now, you see those notes about two-thirds of the way down? That has to do with acquiring fuel for the resort's vehicle fleet. And then there's the garage he owns that services the fleet. Furthermore, there are utilities—bet you never thought about that—but they're down in this little village just beyond the triplets' school. That's where we get our power and water and sewer services, and oh yes, don't forget the building that hosts the internet servers for the entire island. And then there's landscaping, and pavement maintenance and repair for the Ring Road, and upkeep and fuel for the charter plane—and last but not least, design, printing and distribution of travel flyers to advertise the resort."
"You've just given me one of the worst headaches I've had in some time," Christian complained, rubbing his forehead. "I don't see how Mr. Roarke does all that on his own, and I know for a fact that it'll be impossible for you."
"I know," she groaned, falling back in her own chair and letting her head drop back on her neck till she was staring at the ceiling directly over her head. "It seems pretty clear to me that we're going to need some kind of administrative staff, because I've got a feeling that Rogan'll refuse to have anything to do with all that stuff."
"You may well be able to create some jobs," Christian observed. "What you'll have to worry about is overseeing said administrative staff and being sure you can trust them to keep all the records and accounts, and do it honestly so that you don't suddenly find the entire complex machine spraying red ink all over the island. You might check with your friends to find out whether they have any kind of experience in this sort of thing, even if only through their college studies. I heard from Fernando that Tabitha's cat shelter relies very heavily on donations and the generosity of volunteers; she herself doesn't even draw pay, and she can't pay anyone on her staff. If Camille needs some sort of income, she might be a good choice; she's doing administrative functions for Tabitha, isn't she?"
"Yeah, both that and the fund-raising side of it," Leslie mused. "She doesn't mind it, but she says Jimmy's worried about sending Craig to college in a few years. He's only twelve and in seventh grade, but it's never too early, of course. David's in trade school as an auto mechanic and has been working in the garage on summers and weekends to help pay for it, so they're not too worried about that. But Craig and Robin..."
"Then I suggest you discuss the idea with Camille, after you talk about it with Mr. Roarke," Christian said gently, seeing her lost, exhausted expression. "Let's go over what the others do. Lauren helps Brian with the boat, as I recall..."
"Front office," said Leslie, nodding. "Myeko likes her job at the paper too much, so I don't think she'd leave that. Maureen's full owner and operator of Tomai's Catering since her mother retired, and Katsumi has the teahouse. Tabitha's doubly busy, between being Fernando's receptionist and running the cat shelter. I think Michiko's still at loose ends, but I don't know if she'd feel up to administrative and accounting functions."
"It never hurts to ask," Christian said with a smile. "Now as to the men..." He gave it a moment's thought. "Grady, we've already accounted for. Jimmy's the hotel manager; Nick is the island vet, and Brian has his ferry service. Fernando has his medical practice and Kazuo is the hotel chef. So they're all well employed." He looked up and shrugged. "I don't believe that anyone's children would be ready yet for such an enterprise."
Leslie frowned, considering it. "Other than David, the oldest one is Myeko's Alexander, and he's just started his senior year at Fantasy Island High. Noelle and Brianna are both sophomores. But unless they have career aspirations in that direction, I don't think I should count on that source of labor. If I'm going to do this, I think I'd better get Father to help me make sure I've got scrupulously honest people, while he's still here to do that."
"Mm-hmm," murmured Christian, drawing out the sound, as he flipped back Leslie's scribbled-over page and began writing rapidly on the next sheet. "Best...that I...note it..."
She watched him as he wrote, smiling a little. It took him several minutes to finish, and when he did, he glanced over what he'd written and then groaned. "What?" she asked.
"Damn it, I wrote all this in jordiska," he muttered, and she burst out laughing. "Don't worry, my Rose, I promise I'll translate it. But at least it's a beginning."
"More of one than I'd thought I'd have," she said, getting up to come over and hug him where he sat. "I'm so lucky I have you. Thanks for being a sounding board, my love."
"I told you before, that's why I'm here. Just as I said back in February when we all but fell apart, I want to be there for you, and I want you to tell me things. And that's what you've done. You see how it makes things easier? Promise me you'll keep doing that."
"Even if it adds to whatever burdens you have?" she asked, eyeing him.
He set the legal pad aside and got to his feet, taking her hands in his. "Leslie, my Rose, believe me—nothing I have on my mind at this point can possibly match the enormous changes you're facing. Please—whatever else you may do, don't ever refrain from talking to me because you think you're only adding to my own troubles. Should I run into some sort of dilemma in the course of my work, you know full well I discuss it with you." He regarded her with an expectant look, and she thought back for a moment, then nodded, realizing he was right. "I want you to do the same with any problems you have. Don't ever be afraid to come to me with some bit of knotted fishing line—" this made Leslie smile, since it sounded like another jordisk slang expression— "and ask for my help. It's part of being married; at least, it is in my eyes. I hope you understand now what I meant back in February."
She nodded. "I do now, yes." Again she hugged him, closing her eyes and smiling a little as she felt his arms close around her. "I will...and thank you again."
"Thank you, my Rose," he murmured, and her smile broadened as she considered all he meant when he said this. For the first time in six months, she felt at ease.
