§ § § -- October 11, 2003

"Okay, so when does my fantasy start?" was the first thing out of Cori Mukulani's mouth when she walked into the study.

"As soon as you tell me a little more about it, Miss Mukulani," replied Roarke, quite unperturbed. "I understand that you and my daughter knew each other in high school."

"We did…sort of," Cori allowed, eyeing Leslie, who simply looked back without a word. In fact it was just about all Leslie could do to keep her nervousness from showing; Cori had always intimidated her in school, and it was annoying to find the woman still had that effect on her twenty years later. "Not that you could ever call us friends."

Roarke looked curiously at her. "Oh?"

Cori snorted. "Aw, c'mon, Mr. Roarke, you probably heard every dirty little story she had to tell. I know she had a certain circle she ran around with, and I definitely wasn't part of it. I wasn't part of anyone's circle. If you want to get technical about it, I never had any friends all the way through high school. I've always been this big, and I've always been ticked off by people."

"Why is that?" Roarke inquired before Cori could go on.

"Why is what?" Cori asked blankly.

"Why are you so easily angered?" Roarke clarified.

"Oh." Cori shrugged. "I don't know. I just am. To tell the truth, it's come in handy. I work in the bar just near the fishing village—that's where I've lived all my life. The farthest I ever went from home was the pineapple plantation, up till the time those scumbags set fire to the overseer's house and my sister and brother-in-law moved to Hawaii. My brother-in-law was the overseer and my sister was his secretary, and she's as big as I am. They usually had no trouble kicking out the bad seeds, but sometimes they'd get a few too many and call me in. It was good extra money, and I had a great time beating 'em up." She paused, but neither Roarke nor Leslie spoke, so she shrugged again and continued. "Anyway, I'm aware that I have a certain reputation in some parts. I know I did in high school. Everybody was scared of me because of my temper, and that in itself used to make me mad. I was the school outcast, and your daughter there got in with some girls who already had certain ideas about me and what I was like. Tried to make friends with her once in senior year, when all those other girls were out sick for some reason and she was having lunch alone." She gave Leslie a sharp look.

"You mean the time you tried to push that cancer stick on me? Are you trying to convince me that was an attempt to make friends?" Leslie demanded in disbelief.

Cori grinned. "Hey, what'dja want? Is it my fault you upchucked all over the place?" Her grin faded when Leslie nodded, and she snorted again. "That's what I get. Well, anyway, Mr. Roarke, I figured I'd put my size and my temper to good advantage. I'm the bouncer at the bar, and anybody makes trouble, I throw 'em out. They can't budge me, and believe me, most of them try."

"Have you then become dissatisfied with that?" Roarke asked. "It's my understanding that you perform your job extremely well, and neither the bar owner nor the constabulary—nor, for that matter, I myself—can be anything but appreciative."

Cori looked very surprised. "They said that? Wow. Yeah, well, it's just that…I've been thinking. I, uh…" She looked warily at Leslie, then said, "Mr. Roarke, does she have to be in here while I tell you this?"

"She is my assistant," Roarke said, "but if you prefer to keep this private…"

Cori hung there for a moment, indecisiveness written all over her large Polynesian face; then she grunted, "Aw, well, she'll probably find out sooner or later. I always had this secret wish that I was skinny. It'd be nice to be seen as something besides Fat 'n' Furious Cori. That's what they called me in elementary school." She shifted uncomfortably and met Roarke's inquisitive gaze. "So then I get to high school, see, and all of a sudden everybody's getting taller and outgrowing their baby fat—except me. Mine just grew right along with me. And then Leslie shows up in eighth grade, and she's this little twig of a thing, and on top of that she's famous because she's your ward. I saw her in the halls that first day, with Myeko Sensei and Michiko Tokita. That's when I knew we were never gonna be friends. The whole school liked Michiko because she was so nicey-nice, and everybody liked Myeko because she was funnier than hell and loved to have a good time, and her Halloween parties were legend. I never once got invited." Leslie felt her face go red; she still recalled her own suggestion to her friends that they invite someone who otherwise never got to go anywhere, and she also remembered Lauren's reaction to that. She kept quiet and hoped Cori wouldn't notice. "It's hard being an outcast, Mr. Roarke. I was mad at the world and I figured I'd just live down to everybody's low expectations of me. I tried a few times to slim down, but I like food too much."

"I see," said Roarke. "Well, then, and how did you become interested in Prince Carlono? He was little-known beyond Europe for many years."

"I read the National Enquirer, Mr. Roarke," Cori said, sounding offended. "I know what really goes on in these people's lives." Leslie rolled her eyes, and Cori caught her at it. "Yeah, yeah, you think it's a trash rag. You might be interested to know that you and your prince have been in it countless times. When it came out about that punker he dated having AIDS, they reported her entire life in minute detail. Someone did a lot of research."

"Someone most likely did a lot of fabricating," Leslie retorted, her ire raised by Cori's reference to the Astrid Franzén flap.

"Whatever you say, sweetie," Cori said, smirking. "I read all the stories about Carlono. How he's getting tired of being seen as a playboy and wants to find a good woman. I could be that woman, Mr. Roarke, if you give me my fantasy. I mean, hell—if a no-name orphan like Leslie Hamilton could marry a prince, then why can't I?"

Roarke cleared his throat slightly and gave Leslie an apologetic glance; she shook her head and eyed Cori partly in annoyance and partly in wariness. "I can give you your fantasy, Miss Mukulani," Roarke said, "but I must warn you that that's all it can be. I can introduce you to Prince Carlono, but what happens thereafter is entirely up to him. I cannot control his emotions, nor any decision he makes. I hope you haven't placed too many hopes on this fantasy, for I cannot guarantee a happy ending."

Cori cleared her throat. "I guess I can understand that, but I was sort of hoping for something else too, Mr. Roarke. Could I be skinny too, just this once?" She saw Roarke start to reply and blurted, "Wait, hear me out. I know a handsome prince like that would never look twice at a blob like me. So I gotta be skinny when I meet him, just so I can keep his interest long enough for him to get to know me, and maybe see past all the fat and even the temper. Please, Mr. Roarke!" Leslie and Roarke looked at each other; Leslie was more than a little amazed to see Cori begging like that. Roarke noticed the look in her eyes and smiled. Cori, noting their exchange, snapped, "Seriously, Mr. Roarke, do you have to consult with her? I thought you were the one who was the boss!"

Roarke sat slowly back in his chair and regarded her long enough for her burst of temper to melt into a bout of impatient fidgeting; having calmed her to some extent, he said, "It's possible to do that, but you must be clear that this, also, is a fantasy and cannot last beyond the weekend."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Cori blurted, her impatience instantly boiling forth. "I understand the nature of the business—I've lived here all my life, for cripes' sake. I saved up for five years to have this fantasy, Mr. Roarke, and when I heard the prince was on the island, I knew it was the perfect opportunity. Now I'm telling you, I'm not spending my hard-earned savings just to hear over and over again that it's all temporary. It's what I want, dammit, so I don't want to hear any more warnings and platitudes. I just want to be skinny and meet Prince Carlono, and maybe get him to fall in love with me."

"Very well," said Roarke, a little coolly, with a sort of "all right, you asked for it" mien, and arose. "Leslie, you'll find the mirror in the front storage room."

"Will it work for…that?" Leslie asked, flicking a wary glance at Cori.

"Yes, it will," Roarke assured her. "Go ahead."

Leslie shrugged and rounded the desk, taking care to give Cori a healthy berth. She had to admit it was something of a relief to get away from her former schoolmate; it was pretty clear that Cori had no particular fondness for her. She made her way into the outer foyer, where Roarke kept an umbrella stand and a coat tree; there was a door on the north wall that led into a small room that she very seldom had reason to enter. This room sat partially under her old bedroom and looked out on the lane; the shutters on the window were always kept closed, for reasons even most islanders had no knowledge about. Here were the trappings of decades of fantasies: framed paintings, murals and photographs stacked against each other on the floor, a small golden object that Tattoo had once thought was Aladdin's lamp, a wooden sawhorse, a ship's wheel, some empty dress forms, some others containing World-War-II-vintage military uniforms, and a table bearing five or six ornate lead-crystal decanters that had held many a potion in their day. In the corner right of the window was the mirror that Jasmine Bellflower had used that spring, draped with its metallic-gold cloth. Leslie wheeled it out and into the inner foyer, positioning it at the top of the steps to one side.

"Thank you, Leslie," Roarke said, rising and coming around the desk in his own turn, addressing Cori. "This mirror will give you part of your fantasy." As he spoke Leslie flipped back the gold cloth, revealing the delicate etched-glass frame and the dark mahogany stand. Cori stared at it, falling speechless for the first time. Roarke gestured to the mirror; looking a bit reluctant, Cori shuffled over to it and stared at her image in it. Her face was a study in mixed emotion: trepidation, bewilderment, self-disgust at her reflection, hope, and the ever-present belligerence always burning in those eyes. Leslie stood in silence and watched her and Roarke.

Finally Cori said, "How's this thing work?"

"It's very simple, Miss Mukulani," Roarke assured her. "You need only make a wish as to what you want changed, and it will happen. The effect will last until six tomorrow evening. Since you want to be thin, just state the wish."

She threw him a dubious look, but he nodded encouragingly; so she shrugged and turned back to her reflection. After a little thought she took a deep breath and said slowly, "I wish I were the ideal weight for my height."

And as Cori stared at her reflection and Roarke and Leslie at her, she visibly shrank in size, almost in a cartoonish fashion. As the weight melted away, her jeans loosened and began to fall, and she frantically grabbed the waistline and held them up. Her T-shirt went from snug to baggy; her substantial double chin disappeared and her feet suddenly looked lost in her large sandals. Cori's mouth fell open and dangled while she gaped and gaped at her new slender self. After quite some time she breathed, "I've never not been fat in my whole life. I can't believe I could look like that." She turned to Roarke and asked in a very uncharacteristic pleading tone, "Can't I stay this way for good?"

"I am sorry, Miss Mukulani. As I explained to you before, it's a fantasy and cannot last past this weekend," Roarke said, with an apologetic tone to his voice.

Cori sighed. "Well, I had to try, y'know. Thanks for this much, anyway. Where can I find Prince Carlono?"

"Leslie will take you to him," Roarke said, with a gesture at his daughter. Leslie gave a silent nod and started into the foyer; Cori followed, still holding up her jeans and casting several glances back at the mirror till she could no longer see herself in it.

Outside Cori cleared her throat. "Uh, hey, Leslie…"

Leslie paused a few paces ahead of her. "Yes?"

"Would you mind if we go shopping a little first?" Cori asked hesitantly. "If I have to keep holding up my pants, it's gonna look pretty silly."

Faintly Leslie smiled, her guard very much up. "Sure," she said. "Any special place you want to go?"

"Aw, not really, just the souvenir shop in town," Cori said with a shrug. "All I need is a T-shirt and shorts that fit." Then she turned very red and mumbled, "And maybe I oughta, you know, shave my legs. I never go around in shorts in public, not as fat as I am…was…so I don't bother with that. But if I'm gonna…uh…"

Leslie considered it a moment. "Tell you what, we'll get you the shirt and shorts, and then we'll go over to the spa just off the square. They'll take good care of you."

"I can't afford that," Cori protested.

"Just think of it as part of your fantasy," Leslie said. "After all, you want to look really good for the prince, and there's no reason you can't go all out. We'll even provide formalwear for you for the dance party he's having this evening."

"No kidding?" Cori demanded.

"No kidding," Leslie assured her, her smile widening a little. "Come on, let's go."

In town Cori glanced warily around the square, her eyes darting from one thing to another, scrutinizing the tourists already frequenting the shops. Her gaze lit on the storefront where Christian's office was located, and she said, "Hey, is that where your prince has his company? Sure looks small for an international conglomerate."

Leslie grinned, parking in front of the café a few shops down. "Here, it doesn't need to be that big. His London and Sundborg branches are bigger than this. The spa's down the pedestrian shopway here." Around the corner from the café began a narrow brick walk dotted with trees, strategically placed refuse containers artfully hidden behind well-tended flowering bushes, old-fashioned street lamps, and umbrella-shaded tables. The walkway was flanked by picturesque two-story shops that catered primarily to the tourists and the fantasizers; it looked a little like old-time New England, and in her teens Leslie had always loved strolling these walks and pretending she was visiting Connecticut again.

Cori got out of the car and paused. "You've met Prince Carlono, haven't you?"

"A few times," Leslie said. "I know King Errico a little better though."

"Yeah, I guess you would, since that Michiko Tokita married him," Cori mused. "Does your prince know him at all?"

"I know Christian's met him at least once," Leslie said, "but I don't know how well he knows him. We're not really that closely acquainted with him. Why?"

Cori shrugged self-consciously. "Just thought you could give me a little insight on what he's really like, in person, y'know."

"I see," said Leslie. "Well, maybe I can get hold of someone who'd have a much better idea of that. First, let's get you those new clothes, and then we'll go to the spa and I'll leave you in their capable hands. Believe me, if you think you don't recognize yourself now, you'll really get a shock when they're finished with you."

"It better be a good shock, or else I'll want my money back," Cori threatened.

Leslie stiffened and said coolly, "You'll see." With that she struck out ahead of Cori, wondering if she was going to survive this weekend. Cori followed her in silence, and Leslie stood aside watching while Cori spent twenty minutes going through shorts and finally choosing a pair of white ones to go with a pretty, dark-blue T-shirt that was screen-printed with a large hibiscus and the words Fantasy Island underneath it in fancy script. She also chose a new pair of locally-woven straw sandals before deciding she had enough. Leslie had a quick couple of words with the cashier, then led Cori out of the shop and down the covered walkway towards the pedestrian shopping area.

The spa was located in a narrow brick building with a large round window on either side of the entrance. Leslie preceded Cori inside and smiled at the receptionist. "Our guest here would like the full treatment," she said. "Massage, manicure, pedicure…"

"And leg-shaving," Cori put in firmly.

"Facial mask also, Miss Leslie?" the receptionist asked.

Leslie looked at Cori, who nodded, and said, "Yes, that as well. Just put it on the account, okay?"

"Will do, Miss Leslie. The lady'll have her new look in about an hour."

"Great," said Leslie. "I'll be back then, Cori." She waited long enough for another nod from Cori, then smiled a little, gave the receptionist a wider one, and left. Once outside the door she felt her tension ease instantly, and shook her head to herself, heading back up to the square with the intention of dropping in on Christian. She glanced at her watch as she went, already feeling a little better.

"Any excuse to interrupt me, my Rose, is that it?" Christian asked her teasingly when she came in and took the chair beside his desk.

"Of course," she said, grinning at him. A computer tower, its housing removed and its innards exposed to daylight, sat on a two-foot-wide arm of his desk that stretched out from the main desktop where his computer and other things were located; this "arm" got a good bit of use when he personally was effecting repairs. "Mind if I use your phone?"

"Go ahead," Christian agreed, pushing his desk phone in her direction. "Aren't you at work, though? Or is this part of it?"

Leslie nodded, picking up the receiver. "In a way," she said and gave him a wry look. "You'll never guess whose fantasy I'm in charge of this weekend."

"I expect not," Christian said with a chuckle. "Whose, then?"

"Cori Mukulani's," she told him.

Christian froze where he sat and stared at her. "The cigarette girl?" he asked.

Leslie laughed. "The very one," she said. "She wants to meet Prince Carlono live and in the flesh. Right now she's at the spa getting all spiffed up, and she asked me what I knew about Carlono and then what you knew about him. It gave me the idea to call Anna-Kristina and have her come up and have a chat with Cori. If anyone on this island knows Carlono, she'd be the one."

"That's true," Christian said, nodding. "But if you'll pardon my saying so, I doubt that Carlono will do more than take one glance at her and dismiss her entirely."

"Oh, but you don't have the full story, my love," Leslie said with a grin. "Wait till you see her once she gets out of the spa." She punched out the Apanas' phone number and had a short conversation with Anna-Kristina, then settled back in the chair. "So…how complicated is this repair turning out to be?"

"Not very," Christian said. "Actually it's not even a repair; I'm simply installing a raft of new hardware for someone from the military base on Coral Island. It's a good thing it's reasonably quiet. Mateo's out sick today, and Anton, Julianne and Jonathan are all out handling problems at assorted businesses around town. Actually, it's well that you called my niece. I meant to ask her how the adoption from China is progressing."

"I hear they're really slow, especially for first-time adopters," Leslie noted. "It could take at least a year and maybe longer." She leaned across the work arm of Christian's desk and rested her chin in her hand, watching him carefully settle a gadget inside the open tower and secure it in place. "What's Mateo sick with?"

"Some bug or another," Christian said. "He sounded terrible when he called. I expect now Anna-Kristina will be infected with it, and she'll bring it directly to us."

"Now you tell me," Leslie said, rolling her eyes.

Christian grinned. "It's probably nothing. Now, are you planning to bring Cori back here when her spa session is over, or take Anna-Kristina over there to see her?"

"Bring her back," Leslie said. "If it's okay with you, of course."

"It's too quiet in here with everyone else gone," said Christian. "I don't mind. If she still smokes, however, I'm going to insist that she step outside."

Leslie eyed him impishly till he paused long enough to meet her gaze. "If you really want to know, why don't you ask her?" she suggested, grinning at him.

Christian snorted and shook his head, then chuckled. "I'm not sure I should. Not with the size she is. I might be taller, but she has more sheer bulk on her, and she'd win any fight we might get into."

"Not this weekend," Leslie said, and he gave her a puzzled look. She just smiled. "She should be done in about 45 more minutes, so I'll go and get her then. And then you might not have so many qualms about asking her if she still has that habit."

"If you say so, my Rose," Christian said and shrugged amiably, then rolled his chair closer to her and leaned onto the work arm till their foreheads touched. He mirrored her position with his own chin in one hand and regarded her with his eyes alight. "You say we have 45 minutes. Do you intend to sit here and distract me beyond temptation all that time, or did you have something else in mind?"

"My goodness," Leslie murmured, a faint smile on her face, "do you have that little self-control, my love? I'm just sitting here."

"That's quite enough," Christian assured her, raising an eyebrow. "You have only to be yourself, just sitting there, and it's very much enough."

She lifted the hand that wasn't supporting her chin and grasped his free hand. "I see. Well, then, should I walk out?"

"Not on your life," Christian breathed, and their faint grins disappeared in their kiss. They let it linger for a long sweet moment; then Christian reluctantly pulled back and tossed a glance out the window. "We're a little too visible to those in the street," he admitted with a deep sigh. "I wonder if there might be some excuse for my staying at the main house tonight? Can you think of anything?"

Leslie watched him collect himself with an effort and deliberately pick up another gadget to install in the computer tower. "Well, Prince Carlono's here," she mused, "and we have word that he wants to have a small formal party at the bungalow Father gave him. It's part of Cori's fantasy for her to be there. And if royal parties really last as long as you used to tell me they do…"

"Oh, they do," Christian assured her, grinning as he secured the new item inside the tower. "I doubt the nature of royal parties has changed much since I lost the title."

"Then it probably won't end till at least midnight," Leslie speculated, "and by then you'll be completely worn out, between that and a full day at work…"

Christian interrupted, "This, of course, assumes that I'll be there. And what of you, don't you plan to be there too?"

"Do you think I'd let you go stag to any party?" she shot back, and he laughed. "Tell you what, Father and I both are going to be there—it's all but mandatory. Does that affect your decision about going?"

"Immensely," Christian said, still grinning. "I wouldn't want my wife to be there all on her own, when I know for a fact that at one time Carlono was attracted to you and had to be scared off by Errico, and that Carlono continues to bear a reputation as a playboy."

"Father would step in if he had to," Leslie teased.

"I'd prefer to step in myself," Christian said, and she giggled and patted his arm. "Oh yes, believe me, I'll be there. Midnight, you say? Are you so certain it'll end by then?"

"Any reason it shouldn't?" Leslie asked.

"It's Carlono we're discussing, my darling," Christian pointed out. "I expect it will go on rather longer than midnight. If Cori Mukulani wants to endure it till the bitter end, that's up to her. But at midnight, you and I are leaving together, even if Mr. Roarke remains. We both have work tomorrow. And it might well be more convenient for me to stay at the main house in that case. We'd spend less time getting to a bed so that we can sleep, and in the morning I'll have a shorter commute here. Yes, I think that's a very attractive option."

Leslie studied her husband with amusement. "And this from a man who's always loathed parties and made sure people knew it."

"I'll tell you something," Christian said, pausing again and eyeing her with meaning, "if you had been with me at any of those royal parties I had to endure across the years, I'd have found them far less troublesome."

Laughing, Leslie checked her watch and then half arose so she could lean across the work arm and kiss him. "I think it might be fun to go to one of the royal Christmas balls one of these years. I can tell you one thing, you wouldn't be sitting on the dais staring at people and wondering who in heck might be worth dancing with."

"No," Christian admitted through his own laughter, "that much is certain." Something caught his eye and he glanced past her, just as the bell on the door jangled. "Ah, good morning, Kattersprinsessan. How's Mateo, any better?"

Leslie turned around as Anna-Kristina came in, and the princess gave her aunt a quick hug and perched on the edge of the desk while Leslie resumed her chair. "I told him he might as well go to sleep," she said. "He must have caught a cold from someone. I've never heard anyone sound so much like a frog when he tried to speak. I don't think he'll be in tomorrow either, Uncle Christian, so I hope you're prepared."

Christian sighed. "Well, I'll just have to make do. I've relied on Jörgen in Sundborg and Mateo here for so long that I'm not altogether sure I can remember much of what's involved in managing the place. Jonathan knows some of it, so he can serve as backup today if he must, but he's off tomorrow."

"You ought to be able to get by one day without him," Anna-Kristina said. "All right, so anyhow, here I am. What's happening, Aunt Leslie?"

Leslie smiled. "We have a guest who's got some questions for you. Give me another ten minutes and I'll go get her…she's having a spa treatment done."

"Oh, what fun!" exclaimed Anna-Kristina happily. "Mateo gave me a gift certificate to that place for my birthday. I felt like a princess again."

"What's the word on the relinquishment of the title?" Christian asked.

"Gabriella tells me about half the parliament has signed the documentation, but she says there's a lot of reluctance about stripping me of my title since it's not been so long since they revoked yours. In fact, she even mentioned that some politician or another brought up the idea of passing a law that restricts title revocation to one prince or princess per century. Isn't that simply medieval?"

"Utterly," said Christian a little dryly.

Leslie, grinning at his tone, turned to Anna-Kristina. "You don't have any intention of moving back to Lilla Jordsö, though, do you? If you don't, and they don't revoke your title, you'll be breaking the law, as I understand it."

"Yes, you're right, I would," Anna-Kristina realized, looking surprised. "Well, we couldn't exactly move back to Lilla Jordsö. Mateo's job is here, and he can't speak jordiska. And I don't know if he'd really want to be a prince anyway."

"How do you know? Have you asked him?" Christian inquired.

Leslie giggled. "Before this turns into a debate, let me go get Cori. Be back shortly, and don't let me catch you two fighting." Christian shook his head and Anna-Kristina made a face, and she giggled again and left the office.