A/N: Moving along with the storyline...thanks to everyone who reviewed the last story, I truly appreciate your feedback! It feels pretty good to be back at the keyboard again after so long. :)


§ § § - August 23, 2008

Leslie crossed the porch at a half-run, having rung the tower bell using Lawrence's old button as she had for so many years now, and met her adoptive father at the top of the steps. "Good morning, Father."

"Ah, good morning, Leslie. Have you made all the proper preparations?" inquired Roarke, looking at her expectantly.

"So far as I know," said Leslie. "What happens next is up to Michiko, though. She seemed to be in a pretty good mood when I talked to her last night, and she said she'd meet us here at the main house at exactly eight-thirty." This was early, even before the guests were scheduled for their initial appointments with Roarke to discuss their fantasies. Leslie wanted to be sure her friend wouldn't have a chance to back out.

Roarke paused long enough to stare at her with something that looked like reproach, and she felt herself heat up with some trepidation. "By all means, let us hope she agrees to cooperate with us." He gestured toward the rover that was just pulling up, with none other than Camille's firstborn, David Omamara, at the wheel. Roarke had decided to hire him to drive him and Leslie to the plane dock every Saturday morning, and it was his first weekend doing this. "We'd better hurry so that we ourselves aren't late."

David beamed at them as they settled into their accustomed seats. "Hi, Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie! Ready?"

"Indeed," said Roarke. "Let's go." Grinning maniacally, David sent the car forward, and Leslie tried to hide a smile, imagining what she'd tell Camille later. David never lost the huge, proud grin all the way to the plane dock; by the time Roarke and Leslie stepped out of the car, even Roarke himself was chuckling softly with private amusement at the young man.

"I'll have to tell Camille," Leslie remarked, watching David pilot the car around the little dirt access road that described a loop off the Ring Road and back again. "She'll love it."

"Worry first about what you'll tell Michiko," Roarke suggested in gentle warning, sobering both of them. "Since this weekend we are granting three fantasies, all of the same stripe; and since you are the one who chose the beneficiaries of our services, perhaps you would do the honor of explaining their identities and individual wishes to me, for a change."

Leslie glanced around the clearing and realized everyone was in place and awaiting the signal; she nodded toward the band, which immediately struck up its weekly welcoming ditty. The band's commencement of action put everyone else in motion as well; Roarke and Leslie took their usual places while the attendants pulled open the plane's hatch and reached in to assist an apprehensive-looking young woman dressed in a lacy white tank top and a very colorful wraparound skirt that fell almost to her ankles. "That would be Diana Lind," Leslie said, thinking back to the vivid self-descriptions all three of her choices for the weekend had provided in their letters. "Twenty-eight years old and hailing from Arcadia, California. She's here for her tenth high-school reunion and wants to impress her former classmates."

"By singing?" prompted Roarke.

"Right," said Leslie. "She said in her initial letter that she's sung all her life, with every kind of song imaginable - rock, pop, country, easy listening, grunge, you name it. Her favorite is show tunes. Unfortunately, she's never had an audience, because she does all her singing in the shower or in the car by herself."

Roarke nodded. "And what of this young man?"

Leslie shifted her attention to the tall, slim, blond man in uniform just climbing onto the dock as Diana Lind put foot on terra firma. "Major Gary Patterson, forty-one years old, originally from Ste. Genevieve, Missouri, currently stationed at Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma. Since he was a kid, he's been a huge country music fan, and now he wants to fulfill a fantasy to be a country idol, just for this weekend. Seems he's been told a few times that he has a pretty good voice, even though he's been heard only through singing along with his favorite country stars."

Roarke slanted her a look she couldn't read. Don't ever think Father would doubt anyone in this entire enterprise, Leslie thought drolly, except maybe you. Taking a deep breath, she focused her attention on the final guest, a slender, fine-boned, dark-complexioned woman dressed as if for a job interview with an extremely formal and wealthy corporation. "And that's Georgiana Willingham, age thirty-seven, very proper and well-brought-up heiress to a pretty hefty fortune, from Chicago. Her secret fantasy is to be a rock chick and live a life as far away from her own real one as she can possibly get. She's never sung a note in her life."

Roarke eyed her askance, but she knew him well enough to see amusement lurking in those dark eyes. "Dare I suggest that the amount Ms. Willingham offered for said fantasy may have influenced your choice?"

Leslie threw him a genuinely hurt look. "Oh, really, Father. Who do you think I am anyway - Tattoo?"

Roarke let out a laugh just as a native girl presented him with his champagne flute, and he raised it to the new arrivals in his weekly greeting. All three of them looked excited and hopeful, and Leslie mentally crossed her fingers that Michiko would find their dreams as intriguing as she herself did.

‡ ‡ ‡

Leslie was deeply relieved to see Michiko sitting in front of Roarke's desk when she and her father arrived at the main house; that relief came out in a wide smile. "Hi, Michiko, good to see you," she said.

Michiko smiled. "It's a little earlier than I'd like, but here I am anyway. So are you finally going to tell me exactly what I'm doing here on a Saturday morning?"

Leslie sat down in the other chair while Roarke settled behind the desk and watched with interest he didn't bother concealing. "Well," she said, "how would you like to be intimately involved with some fantasies this weekend?"

Michiko blinked at her three or four times, then turned to Roarke. "Is this a joke?"

Roarke smiled broadly and assured her, "Indeed not, Michiko. We do in fact need your assistance, if of course you're willing to provide it. We are granting three separate fantasies this weekend, and as it happens, all three of them are very similar, thus all three will require your expertise."

"Or at least your expert opinion," Leslie added.

"On what?" Michiko prodded. It was plain from her tone that she was beginning to lose her patience.

Leslie looked at Roarke, who nodded at her once; she drew in a fortifying breath and turned to her friend. "They all have fantasies that have to do with singing - one in rock, one in country and the other one for show tunes."

Michiko frowned. "Well, either they can sing or they can't. There's nothing I can do about it." She let her gaze slide to Roarke. "Maybe you can change that for a weekend, but that's nothing to do with me. So why would you need me?"

"Because you're the professional," Leslie said. "I mean, sure, I can carry a tune if my voice is cooperating with me, but you're the one who used to make a living with your voice. We'd like to hear your evaluation as to whether you think these fantasies are worth granting."

Michiko eyed her skeptically; even Roarke looked a little dubious. "Leslie," he said in gentle reproval.

"Well, she is," Leslie insisted, feeling helpless.

Michiko shook her head. "Will someone please come clean to me about this?"

Roarke smiled and finally, to Leslie's relief, relented. "It's entirely possible that we may have a hidden gem among our three aspiring singers. Perhaps you would be willing to involve yourself in their fantasies and help them to gain a little confidence so that they can make a success of said fantasies." At that moment there came a knock on the door, and Leslie instantly jumped to her feet and admitted their first guest, Diana Lind. Roarke arose, and Michiko twisted around in her seat to watch while Leslie led the newcomer into the room and gestured at the chair she had just vacated.

"Ah, Ms. Lind, thank you for coming so promptly," Roarke said with a warm smile.

Diana grinned, her face acquiring a pink, sheepish look. "That's a nice way of telling me I'm too early, but thanks." They all chuckled.

Roarke sat back while Leslie pulled the computer chair over to the desk. Michiko shifted in her own chair, but there was no mistaking the intense interest in her dark-brown eyes, and when Roarke spoke, she unconsciously leaned forward a little as if that would help her hear better. "Ms. Lind," Roarke said, "it's my understanding that your tenth high-school class reunion is being held here this weekend."

She nodded."Yup, and unfortunately I haven't done anything worth noting since graduation. Oh, sure, I went to college and I have a pretty decent job and a nice apartment...but ever since I joined Facebook and have gotten back in touch with a bunch of my classmates, I've been a little amazed at how many of them are making huge successes of themselves. Four of them are interning in hospitals up and down the West Coast, a couple of others just passed the California bar, one's got his own business and it's thriving, and a whole group of them seem to be making a cushy living working for Silicon Valley companies."

"What do you do?" Leslie asked.

Diana shrugged. "I'm an administrative assistant," she said in a self-deprecating tone. "I've had the same job since I graduated from college, and I like it fine...it's just my pace, and the people I work with are really nice and we all know each other since it's not a big firm. But it's just not very glamorous or impressive." She looked up, her glance bouncing across Leslie before settling on Roarke. "I guess I just want to be noticed and not fade into the background at the reunion."

Roarke's tone was quizzical: "And you believe you can do that by singing? Even though, as I understand it, you have never sung in public in all your life?"

Diana blushed. "Well...there're so many doctors and lawyers and tech-geek brains in my class, I guess I just...I mean, I feel like I have to stand out."

Leslie smiled and said gently, "Well, in your letter you said you've only ever sung in the shower or alone in your car. That suggests to me that nobody's ever heard you sing, so there's no way to know whether you're any good."

"I always thought I was okay," Diana mumbled, hunching her shoulders. "But I guess that could be just personal vanity talking."

Leslie grinned. "Well, that's easily fixed. Ms. Diana Lind, meet my dear friend, Michiko Tokita." She gestured to Michiko; Diana turned to look and gasped loudly.

"You're one of my favorite performers to sing with!" she cried. "I have all your albums, and I play them all the time, especially in the car when I'm going back and forth to work. See, I work in Rancho Cucamonga, and getting there and back on the 210 can be pretty hairy, not to mention boring...so I keep your CDs in my car, and I just pop one in and belt away. It's the best way on earth to kill commuting time."

Michiko blinked at her in sheer astonishment; Leslie wondered if that had anything to do with the fact that Diana didn't seem to care that Michiko had spent much longer being the queen of Arcolos than she had being a Broadway-show singer. But Michiko's discombobulation lasted only a second or two, as her pretty elfin face broke into a wide grin and she shook hands with Diana. "It's nice to hear that somebody still listens to my music."

"You will sing for Miss Tokita first," Roarke informed Diana. "As a part of your fantasy, she will evaluate your voice and your ability to see whether you truly have what it takes to impress all your classmates. She will then report back to me, and we will further discuss your fantasy."

"Wow," Diana gasped. "This is amazing...I never thought I'd get to meet one of my favorite singers while I was having this fantasy granted. Mr. Roarke, you're incredible - thanks so, so much! This really will be a dream come true! What time do I sing for you?"

Roarke consulted his gold pocket watch. "I believe eleven o'clock will be fine, if that will work for you." He addressed this last to Michiko, who nodded.

Diana thanked them again and left, walking backwards because she was still gushing with excitement; when she was finally gone, Michiko gave Roarke and Leslie a hard look. "You didn't tell me I was going to be playing voice coach."

"You're not," said Leslie. "You're just seeing whether she's any good. Same with our other two guests. Come on, Michiko, you were the one who wanted to find something to do. And now that you've got poor Diana Lind so excited, you can't back out on us. It'd be really, really rude."

Roarke smiled, almost apologetically, and concurred, "Yes, I must agree, it would be in rather poor taste, don't you think?"

Michiko screwed up her delicate features and aimed a glare at Leslie through slitted eyes. "I don't know whether I'm going to forgive you for this or not, but in the interests of business and propriety, I'll do it. I reserve judgment on whether I like it, though."

Leslie grinned with relief and said, "That's up to you. Thanks for stepping up to bat for us." She would have said more, but the inner-foyer door opened and admitted Major Gary Patterson, still nattily decked out in his Air Force uniform, complete with cap, and looking as fresh as if he had just showered and shaved. Leslie gestured him in as he peered into the study from the top of the steps. "Come in, Major."

"Please have a seat, won't you?" Roarke invited, and Major Patterson smiled his thanks and filled the chair Diana Lind had just vacated. "Major Gary Patterson, welcome; is there anything we can get you?"

"No, no thanks, Mr. Roarke," Major Patterson replied, taking in Leslie in the computer chair and then Michiko in the chair beside him. He blinked and grinned, looking slightly ill at ease. "Wow, I'm in a roomful of celebrities. Do I need to defer to your royal titles?"

"No, not at all," Leslie assured him. "Titles don't mean too much here - that's why my husband so enjoys living here." They all laughed. "I'm just Leslie, and let me introduce my dearest friend, Michiko Tokita."

"Yeah...the singer and the dowager queen," Major Patterson blurted. Michiko winced just noticeably, and he reddened and cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, former queen, I guess. I'm sorry, I don't really know how that works."

Michiko grinned, her good nature apparently restored, to Leslie's relief. "I'm simply Michiko, that's all. I'm a little young to be a dowager." Again they laughed. "So anyway, I'm told you have a fantasy about singing."

Major Patterson managed to look even more sheepish. "Yeah, it's pretty crazy, huh? A guy with a solid Air Force career, a wife and a couple kids, earthbound except when he's in the cockpit - I always wanted to fly, and I still love it - sounds a little goofy when you think about it, me having this secret thing about singing country songs. But I grew up on that kind of music, and I've been told my voice isn't too bad. I guess what I want to do this weekend is find out if I've got what it would take to be a country hunk."

"Would that translate into a permanent career change?" Roarke inquired.

Major Patterson laughed. "I doubt that," he said cheerfully. "I'm just kinda thinking, what would it be like if I could be a big country star just for the weekend? Just to live out a crazy dream, you know, before I go back to my real life."

"Are you on just a three-day pass or something?" Michiko asked.

"I got leave for a week because of the travel time involved in coming here," Major Patterson explained. "It started Thursday and I have to be back on base by eighteen hundred next Wednesday. So I guess it's a seven-day pass in this case." He looked at Roarke. "I, uh...well, I just mentioned I've been told I have a good voice, but it's occurred to me more than once that it could just be people being polite, or deferring to my rank, or something. Can you still grant my fantasy if I turn out to really suck?"

Leslie and Michiko tried not to laugh, but neither Roarke nor Patterson missed the looks they exchanged, and Patterson broke into another sheepish grin while Roarke chuckled. "Indeed I can, Major, if that is what you wish. After all, it's your fantasy, and that's the business I am in. A fine enterprise it would be if I could not provide what my guests ask for!"

Major Patterson laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So what happens next, then?"

"Miss Tokita here will listen to you sing, both with and without your country performer of choice to sing along with," Roarke explained. "She will then report back to me, and we will do whatever is necessary from that point to see to it that you have your fantasy."

"Roger that," said Patterson, looking delighted. "Can't wait to get started. What time?"

"Eleven-thirty should work," said Leslie. "So that'll give you some time to get settled in and relax before you go for your, um, audition."

"Well, okay then. Thanks so much, all of you." Major Patterson shook hands all around and then departed, whistling as he left.

"Still want to back out?" Leslie teased her friend.

Before Michiko could reply, there was yet another knock, and Roarke called, "Come in." The door opened, and in stepped Georgiana Willingham, looking very demure and businesslike in an extremely expensive jacket, blouse and skirt ensemble, with her hair pulled severely back and fastened to the back of her head in a subdued French twist. She was the picture of dignity and decorum, and walked with a practiced grace, as if negotiating a balance beam without conscious thought. Roarke arose once more, and she favored him and then the two girls with a formal nod before accepting his invitation to take a seat.

"Ms. Willingham," Roarke said with a nod. "May we bring you anything?"

"No, no thank you...I had more than enough when I first arrived," she responded, and Leslie stifled a smile, remembering the enormous bowl-shaped glass their latest guest had chosen from the assortment at the plane dock. Georgiana Willingham arose enough to give Leslie a shallow curtsy and Michiko a deeper one, addressing them formally as "Your Highness" and "Your Majesty" in respectful murmurs, before resuming her seat and smoothing out her skirt. Then she speared Roarke with a look, leaned forward and asked eagerly, "So when does my fantasy start? I've been just about sick with excitement all the way here, and now that I'm actually on this island, I can't wait!"

Michiko giggled, unable to help herself, and Leslie let her grin have its way. Even Roarke smiled. "Ah, an enthusiastic customer. We always find that gratifying." He sat back. "If you would, please, kindly fill me in a little more on your fantasy."

"I'm the daughter of Raymond Willingham and the niece of Charles, Joseph and Arthur Willingham," she said, "of Willingham Enterprises - the Chicago conglomerate that already owns nearly three hundred banks around the United States and is constantly looking to swallow up more. Mergers, takeovers, buyouts...and endless meetings about everything under the sun. That's the life my father and my uncles carved out for themselves, and they've made a thriving industry out of it. Most of my cousins have gone into the business, and so have both my brothers." She sighed. "And yeah, okay, so did I. I suppose we didn't have a whole lot of choice."

"Come again?" Leslie asked, surprised. "This is the twenty-first century; nobody can force you into anything, even if you're a female - not anymore."

"They can if you're a Willingham," said Georgiana darkly. "Quite a bit of noise was made about withholding of inheritances and cutoff of monthly allowances unless we followed in our fathers' footsteps." She cleared her throat. "I must admit, I'm too accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle to buck the system, so I went along with it. And most of the time it's not so bad. But I always had this secret dream. I mean, it took me a while to come up with it. I started out wondering what's the farthest possible thing from finance and retirement planning and meetings out the yin-yang? I must have pondered it for months before it finally occurred to me: a rock chick!" Georgiana's features grew animated with excitement."Decked out in black leather and studs, wearing dog collars and chains, smashing electric guitars and chain-smoking cigarettes, and with an attitude that'd make Rambo cringe. I could just see me now, strutting across a stage and giving all the guys hell on wheels. It's so totally different from my real life, that the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it."

"Until now," said Leslie.

"Yep. It took me this long to clear out my insane work schedule. I finally managed to talk my father into letting me go by telling him I hadn't had a real vacation in four years - which is true - and then getting out the door the moment he gave his grudging approval." She sighed. "I plan to enjoy every stolen second of this. So when can I start, Mr. Roarke?"

Roarke chuckled. "Would now suffice?" At Georgiana's thrilled expression, he nodded. "I thought so. First of all, when you return to your bungalow, you'll find precisely the sort of, uh, 'rock-chick' attire you so vividly described just now. And at exactly noon, Miss Tokita will see you to evaluate your voice and decide whether you have what it takes to pull off the persona you wish to assume for the weekend."

Georgiana bit her lip. "Oh boy." She looked at Michiko with some trepidation. "You might as well know now, I've never sung a note in my life. I don't even know if I can carry a tune. The thing is, I never really thought about it. A rock chick screams out her songs, or she growls them - she doesn't actually sing. I figured no matter what I sounded like, I'd be able to get away with it."

Michiko snickered. "Well, even the heavy-metal types do have to have some kind of musical talent. That even goes for those howling singers - the howls do have to be on key." She tilted her head at Georgiana. "Rock chicks and heavy metal are sort of passé these days anyway. All the attitude has been usurped by the rappers, especially the hard-core ones."

Georgiana made a revolted face. "Sorry, but I absolutely hate rap," she said. "That's too much rebellion. No, I'd rather be a rock chick. Can you do it?"

"I can't do it," Michiko said, grinning. "All I do is figure out whether your voice can handle it for a weekend. If anything has to be done, it's up to Mr. Roarke to do it."

Roarke smiled at that. "And yes, we can do it," he said. "I must warn you, Ms. Willingham, you may find that the life of the, uh, rock chick may differ quite drastically from what you have imagined it to be all these years."

"I don't care," said Georgiana, "just as long as it's different from my real life. Thanks so much, Mr. Roarke. I'm going to really let my hair down this weekend, and I can't wait!" Beaming, she scuttled out of the house, an absurd gait in the staid pumps she was wearing.

"Literally, I think," remarked Michiko in response to Georgiana's parting remark, and they laughed. "Okay, Leslie, I admit it: you've sold me. Where do I conduct my, um...auditions?"