A little touch of whimsy on two fronts. With luck this will be finished this week. Enjoy, and thanks to all my faithful reviewers, as always!

§ § § -- March 24, 2000

By the time Christian's time on the island began winding down, he had completed most of the goals he'd set for himself in opening his new branch. Late in January he'd signed a lease agreement on an attractive storefront in Amberville's town square, and had been quite surprised when the building's owner suggested he redecorate the interior as he wished. When he told Leslie and Roarke over dinner that evening, they had agreed he'd had very good luck.

"So what color do you plan to paint?" Roarke had asked.

"What about a wallpaper border?" Leslie had put in before Christian could answer. "Something quiet, of course. My friends and I could get in and paint for you, too."

Christian, looking a little bombarded, glanced back and forth between them. "I never even thought of a color scheme," he admitted. "I guess I need some help there."

"It sounds to me as if you'll have no shortage of assistance, even if I refrain from contributing," Roarke observed, amused. "By all means, you two discuss it."

"What sort of colors would look good in the interior of an office like mine?" Christian wondered.

"What color's your office in Lilla Jordsö?" Leslie asked.

"White, I suppose," said Christian with a shrug. "I don't know. Mostly I'm out in the field; my office manager, Jörgen, is the one who sees the place the most. It would be the same here."

Leslie sighed gently. "But you can't have plain old white," she protested. "That's really boring. Make it something attractive, something that will put people at ease when they come in."

"Like what?" Christian asked blankly.

Leslie ruminated. "Hmm…well, I'd go with beige only as an absolute last resort. Something understated, not too overpowering. Green or blue might be your best bet there…maybe just a pale shade of one of those, like seafoam or sky blue or even pale teal…"

Christian broke in, "Wait, I understand green and blue, and even sky blue I can picture…but what on earth are those others?"

"Are you saying you've never seen seafoam or teal? Is that because you don't look at paint much, or because you're not familiar with trendy English color names?" Leslie asked teasingly.

"I don't know the English terms for those colors," Christian told her, making her eyes widen. "They sound fancier than is really necessary. Seafoam is blue, right? And I thought teal was a duck."

"Uh-oh," said Leslie and glanced at Roarke with merry eyes. He smiled back, trying not to chuckle. "I suppose it's time for a little education. Or else you could leave it entirely up to me, my love."

"Wait a moment," Christian blurted, beginning to sound faintly desperate. "Just whose office is this supposed to be?" He caught Leslie's frown and backtracked. "I know you only want to help, my Leslie Rose, but shouldn't I have the final say on the color scheme?"

"Of course you should, my darling," Leslie said in a soothing tone that sounded just a touch exaggerated. "But you did ask for help, and I'm simply offering it."

"But you need to remember, sweetie-pie," said Christian in a very sugary voice, "I get final approval. And you'll have to show me those colors in case I don't like them."

"Of course, honeybunch," Leslie purred, tipping her head to one side and smiling oh-so-nicely. "Just let me know whenever you need me to tell you what pink is, and sunshine, and chocolate…"

"Now bunnikins…" Christian began sweetly.

Roarke abruptly stood up. "Excuse me," he said, "I am afraid I must go and brush my teeth." With that, he left the veranda, leaving Christian and Leslie staring after him in bewilderment for a moment.

Then Christian's last term sank in and Leslie twisted back around in her seat to stare at him. "Bunnikins!?" she said, astonished, making a face of revulsion. "Where on earth did you get that one?"

"All our television is imported, either from the US or England or Sweden," Christian told her, "and I heard it on an American show. I was watching an episode of something called 'King's Castle' once, and one character called another character 'bunnikins'."

Leslie sat up straight. "They did not!" she immediately contradicted. "I grew up on 'King's Castle' and it's my all-time favorite TV show. Nobody, but nobody, on 'King's Castle' ever called anyone else 'bunnikins'!"

"Oh yes they did," Christian retorted, and the next thing they knew there was a lively argument going on between them. They had never really resolved it, though Leslie had secretly promised herself to pay very close attention to the reruns from that time on.

Eventually, at any rate, the color problem had been settled; having learned what "seafoam" was, Christian had agreed to a pale tint of that for the walls, along with a wallpaper border again chosen by Leslie. It was a quiet print of light-brown geometric shapes, with a hunter-green stripe along the top and bottom of the paper. During three slow days in early February, Leslie and her friends had made a party out of painting and wallpapering, with food from Maureen's mother's catering service to keep them fortified. Christian had frequently dropped in to see what progress was being made; and every time he did, he found himself getting a real charge from (not to mention being very turned on by) the sight of Leslie in frayed denim cutoffs, a T-shirt she had owned since high school, and her hair in a messy ponytail under a faded bandanna, with paint splatters on her clothing, her ancient Keds and even her skin. The first day, he'd given in to the impulse to kiss her, and it had grown quite heated very quickly, prompting teasing, approving hoots from her friends that had broken them apart and made Leslie turn very red in the face.

By the first week in March Christian had been ready to begin screening applicants for the four positions he intended to set up in this office: two computer experts (one to go into the field and set up websites as he himself did, the other to work in the office and provide troubleshooting); an accountant; and a general manager. To that end he had placed ads in the Fantasy Island Chronicle and was soon swamped with applications, nearly all of them from people born since the mid-70s and making not only Christian but Leslie feel unduly old. "All these college kids," Christian said with a heavy sigh one evening, paging slowly through the stack of applications. "I suppose, at forty-one, I'm quite a pioneer in the field."

"Maybe even senior citizen," Leslie teased him and got a playful swat on the shoulder in response. "If it bugs you that much, my love, maybe you should take some refresher courses."

"I am fine, thank you very much," Christian had retorted, looking affronted and making her laugh. Seeing her mirth, he had to laugh too. "All right, enough old-man jokes. Tell me, my darling, have you looked at any of these? I know you and Mr. Roarke know most, if not all, the people on the island. Maybe you have some idea who some of these folks are."

Leslie accepted the stack and eyed several in succession, then squinted more closely at the applicants' addresses. "Oh dear. I won't be much help here, I guess. Looks like the majority of these people live off-island."

"Really!" said Christian in surprise. "How can that be? I didn't place the ad in any other newspaper."

"Well, a lot of our guests take copies of the Chronicle home with them as souvenirs," Leslie said, "and I expect word got around once those papers were taken off the island. They distribute the paper on Coral Island too, mostly on the Air Force base there. There's a whole raft of applications here from there and from Hawaii, and a bunch from the mainland too. And wow, here's one from Germany."

Christian sighed heavily and fell back on the sofa; he and Leslie were sitting in the TV room at the time, having just finished dinner and letting Roarke take the evening to clear out a mountain of backlogged paperwork in peace. "Either I have quite a reputation, or these people are desperate for jobs."

"More likely they see the location of the branch office and see it as an irresistible chance to come and live on Fantasy Island," Leslie mused. She met Christian's gaze and smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, my love, I really would like to help you out…but I guess this has to be your problem."

Christian shifted closer to her and slid his arm around her shoulders while she thumbed through some more forms. "Well, this is boring anyway. I suggest we do something much more interesting."

Leslie was about to say something when a name on a form caught her eye. "Wait a minute, here's a familiar name," she said excitedly, pulling the page out of the stack. "Julianne Ichino. That's one of Camille's siblings…the oldest quad, to be exact. Gosh, I completely forgot, those kids are in their junior year of college. They turn 21 in a few weeks…unbelievable!"

Christian chuckled and rested his head against hers, just to take in the scent of her hair. "So you've known them ever since they were babies, I suppose," he said.

"I was here when they were born," said Leslie. "They're good kids, Christian. Here, why don't you take a look at this and see what you think." She offered him the page, and he gave in good-naturedly and accepted it, perusing it thoughtfully.

"She's very thorough, this Julianne Ichino," he observed at length. "Born and raised on this island, good grades all through school, majoring in computer studies and particularly adept at designing websites…!" He leaned forward, face alive with interest. "Do they have school vacation soon?"

"Next week actually," Leslie said. "The quads always come home for that week. You could bring Julianne in for an interview then, and if you like her, that's one position filled."

"That would be fabulous," Christian agreed. "Now for the troubleshooter, the accountant and the manager…"

As it turned out, when the quads did come home from college for spring break, he found himself hiring not only Julianne but her brother Jonathan, who filled the accountant's position. Because the two were still actively in school, he arranged for them both to work part-time and put in another ad for part-time temporary positions so that someone would be there when they had to be back in school. Both Jonathan and Julianne were very excited, and Julianne went so far as to tell Leslie, "What a great guy, Miss Leslie. You sure lucked out! Does he have any brothers?"

Leslie giggled. "Two, but they're both much older than he is. He does have three nephews though, so you might still have a chance." They'd both laughed.

Now, in late March, it was a Friday night and Leslie and Roarke were going over the weekend schedule while Christian pored tiredly over more applications. "Didn't we ever get anyone whose schedule would allow for them to take that empty slot this weekend?" Leslie asked, studying Roarke's date book over his shoulder.

"No, we never did, oddly enough," Roarke said, shaking his head. "However, there's no need to fret over it. I did receive a last-minute request from someone just this morning, so we'll have the regular workload for the weekend."

"Who is it?" Leslie asked.

"Tomorrow," Roarke promised her, "you'll see then." He noticed something out of the corner of his eye and focused on Christian, who turned out to be watching them both with inordinate interest from his chair at the tea table. "What can we do for you, Christian?"

Christian laughed self-deprecatingly. "I apologize, Mr. Roarke, but I have to tell you, I find yours and Leslie's jobs utterly fascinating. Perhaps more so at the moment, because I'm going cross-eyed from reading all these job applications. I wonder if you'd object if I hung around more than usual this weekend, just to get a better look at this business you're in. Frankly, I need a break from this." As if to punctuate the point, he brandished the stack of forms he was going through, and then gave them a frustrated toss, scattering loose pages all over the room. Roarke and Leslie burst out laughing.

"I don't know how much of a break it would truly be," Roarke remarked as a chuckling Christian began to gather the stray sheets, "but if you really wish to keep Leslie company this weekend, I see no problem with it, as long as she doesn't object. I would only remind you of our privacy policy."

"Of course," Christian agreed readily. "Not a word shall pass my lips. Not that anyone would believe me, I'm sure."

"Indeed they wouldn't, particularly this weekend," Roarke remarked, half mysterious, half resigned. Leslie eyed him and wondered exactly what they were in for.