§ § § -- December 22, 2003

Once delivered to her bungalow along with the baby, Anna-Laura looked listlessly around the comfortably furnished main room, eyed hers and Roald's suitcases waiting near the door, and then gazed at the sleeping baby in her arms. The door opened one more time as she stood there, and she turned to watch the native man place two more bags of Elisabeth's things on the floor next to the rest. "May we assist you with anything else, Your Highness?" he asked respectfully.

Anna-Laura opened her mouth, hesitated, then sighed quietly. "No," she said.

"We're just a phone call away if you need anything, Your Highness," the young man said with a bow. "Please make yourself at home." Anna-Laura nodded without enthusiasm, and he bowed once more and left.

The princess ventured slowly into the large bedroom and found a lovely iron-postered canopy bed inside, draped with sheer snow-white netting and made up with what must be the softest white down comforter she'd ever seen. An adorable white wicker bassinet rested not too far from the bed, well padded and furnished with a small pillow and a lightweight blanket. Gently Anna-Laura laid little Elisabeth into the bassinet and discovered in the process that it rocked; she set it to gently swinging, loosely draped the blanket over her granddaughter, and then caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror hanging over the dresser. "Herregud, I look like hell," Anna-Laura muttered aloud. She had reason for her bedraggled, hopeless look. She had just lost one of her children, and the other was pulling away from her, deliberately and consciously closing himself off from the people he needed most in these difficult days.

She had been through bereavement before, more so perhaps than her brothers. While the entire family had been heavily affected by the deaths of Queen Susanna in 1985 and King Arnulf in 1995, and then of King Arnulf II in 2001, she alone had been devastated by the assassination of her husband, Esbjörn, in 1982. It had been determined to be politically motivated, as just before his death he had been elected head of parliament in what had been called a landslide election, and rumors had immediately sprung up that it had come about because of his marriage into the royal family. Esbjörn had already had a promising career in politics when he and Anna-Laura had met at the 1975 royal Christmas ball; but he'd been only thirty-two when he was elected parliamentary head, the youngest by far in Lilla Jordsö's history to hold the office. Esbjörn's assassin had been apprehended within seconds of the shooting, but Esbjörn had lived barely long enough to see it happen. He had died within five minutes of being shot, and it had taken Anna-Laura several months in nearly total seclusion to begin to move beyond the tragedy.

At the time, Cecilia had been four and Roald two; they'd grown up knowing the warmth of a close-knit family, with their grandfather and three uncles providing the fatherly influence that Esbjörn would have. Ceci had become close to her equally feminine cousin Anna-Kristina, sharing long talks about clothes, reveling in the many social events the family was asked to take part in. Roald, on the other hand, apparently had something of his uncle Christian in him. He was only a mediocre student and absorbed barely enough material in his Royal Comportment classes to satisfy his grandfather. Anna-Laura shook her head at the thought. She could remember Christian chafing at times against having to take the classes, but he'd done far better in them than Roald had; yet Roald had been allowed to coast. It must be true, grandchildren get away with more than children do, Anna-Laura thought. Her father had been more indulgent of his grandchildren than his children, but his most exacting discipline had always been reserved for Christian alone. To this day Anna-Laura sometimes found herself wondering how their father's death had really affected her younger brother. He had been reticent in the days after the king's death, and at the funeral had stood in utter silence, showing no emotion whatsoever. She secretly suspected he'd been relieved. In the meantime, Roald had begun to emulate Christian to some extent from about that point, and now in the wake of Cecilia's death, he'd withdrawn, expressing himself only in ways that the rest of the family heartily disapproved of. Anna-Laura wondered what was going to happen now that her son was here on Fantasy Island, what he might try to get away with.

The phone rang in the main room, and she walked quickly out to answer it, pulling the bedroom door shut on the way so as not to disturb Elisabeth. "Hello?"

"Hello, Your Highness, this is Mr. Roarke. I merely called to inquire how you have been settling in," said the warm Latin accent on the other end of the line.

"Oh, Mr. Roarke," Anna-Laura said and bit her lip. "I suppose we're all right. I seem to recall my son going off with Christian and Leslie…"

"Yes, he got into their car just before they left," Roarke said. "There's no question that he's in good hands with them. My concern is for you, however. I repeat my earlier offer: if there is anything at all that I can do for you—"

In the absence of her son, her brother and her sister-in-law, Anna-Laura had a sudden overwhelming need to talk to someone, anyone. Leslie had demonstrated total trust in this man, and she well remembered meeting him at Christian and Leslie's wedding nearly three years before. Somehow he inspired at least a modicum of trust in everyone, she sensed; how else could she explain her abrupt need to unload on him? "I think you can, Mr. Roarke," she said in a slightly shaky voice. "Could you send someone over to keep an eye on my granddaughter, perhaps? I actually find a desperate need to speak with you. I hope you have some time to spare."

"Of course, Your Highness," Roarke said warmly. "I'll see to it that someone is brought over to watch the baby for you, and a driver will bring you here to the main house."

"Thank you, Mr. Roarke," Anna-Laura said, feeling some small measure of relief.

Ten minutes later she had settled herself in the loveseat near the stairs, looking across a low, highly-polished wooden table at Roarke, seated in a chair directly opposite her. They watched while Mariki poured tea for them; then the cook stood up and asked, "Are Prince Christian and Miss Leslie planning to have dinner here, sir?"

"They are," Roarke said and looked at Anna-Laura. "Can we count on your company as well, Your Highness?"

Anna-Laura managed a small smile, to her own surprise. "I wouldn't miss it," she said. "You have a bit of a reputation, Mariki. My brother Carl Johan mentioned coming here specifically to partake of your cooking again."

Mariki grinned broadly. "That's high praise, Your Highness. Does me a world of good. I just wish Miss Leslie felt the same." She rolled her eyes and left, to Roarke's soft chuckling; Anna-Laura looked at him curiously.

"Leslie doesn't like Mariki's cooking?" she asked.

Roarke laughed aloud. "It's not the cooking itself, it's the quantity thereof," he explained. "Mariki has always accused Leslie of not eating enough, but now that Leslie is pregnant, she's become smothering—at least in Leslie's eyes." Anna-Laura snickered softly and settled back in her chair, her hands cradling a delicate porcelain teacup, and Roarke's expression grew concerned. "Tell me, Your Highness, what may I do for you?"

Anna-Laura drew in a deep breath. "I can't tell you how adrift I've felt since my daughter's death," she said and squeezed her eyes closed against the automatic sting of tears. "I wonder if I'm cursed in some way. My husband was killed twenty-one years ago, and now I've lost my daughter. My son was already withdrawing from me before Ceci's death, but not to the extent he has in the last five days."

"Withdrawing, Your Highness?" Roarke asked. "In what way?"

"Christian seems to have bequeathed some of his rebellious nature to Roald," Anna-Laura said, and Roarke smiled. "The trouble is, in Roald it's been amplified to some extent, and much more so since Ceci was…killed."

"Could you specify?" Roarke queried.

"He spends far more time away from home than with the family," Anna-Laura told him. "He has some friends who belong to very rich jordiska families, and thus have the money, the time and the overly indulgent parents to get themselves into trouble. Most of this trouble is of the nuisance variety, but they have a way of flouting the law when it suits them. I haven't found out how to get him away from them, but at the same time it makes me feel strangely guilty. Royalty seldom have true friends, Mr. Roarke, and these are the only ones Roald has. I can remember Christian growing up isolated, and my older brothers and I did as well, although I think we were more resigned to it than Christian was. He had some friends in primary school, but as they grew older and more aware of his elevated status in life, they pulled away from him. It's my understanding that Christian never had a real friend until he came here and met Leslie. I didn't want Roald going through that, so for the most part I turned a blind eye to his escapades." She sighed and admitted, "I can see that I was wrong now…"

"Your intentions were good, Your Highness," Roarke said with a smile.

"Perhaps so," Anna-Laura murmured, "but I think English-speaking people have a saying about the road to hell being paved with good intentions, don't they? I've been afraid for a while that Roald's gone too far for us to have any influence on him now. After Ceci's death…" She paused and blinked back tears, then went on in a wobbling voice: "Roald was gone for several days. He contacted no one at the castle and we didn't know where he was. We had no way of finding him, didn't know whom to get in touch with. We attempted contact with the families of Roald's friends, but they seemed patently unconcerned; in fact, I think the only reason they spoke with our secretary was our status as royals." Roarke nodded understanding. "The night before Ceci and Axel's…f-funeral, the police brought Roald home at last. He was very drunk and babbling nonsense. We had hoped it would remain quiet, but we're too visible for that. Along with all the news articles and reports on the service, there were mentions of Roald being brought home drunk. So he has begun to develop a certain reputation, and I don't think he cares."

"I see," Roarke said slowly. "You mentioned that your husband was killed. Does he have even the slightest memory of his father?"

"None that I know of," Anna-Laura said, "and I doubt the likelihood of it, for he was only two years old when it happened. He rarely asked about Esbjörn, actually; it was as if my brothers and my father provided the male influence he needed. But Christian had some episodes during his twenties, and Roald can remember a great many of these events…so I have a feeling he was influenced by that also."

"Perhaps," Roarke said gently, "but I expect that Roald's choices were of his own making. Christian may have done things that caught your son's interest, but it would seem to me that your nephews saw the same things, and did not choose to emulate them. Roald's choices, Your Highness, are at least as much to do with his personality as with any influence he may have received in his formative years. Forgive me, but you can't lay all the blame at Christian's feet."

Anna-Laura's face heated with embarrassment and she looked at him with a sigh. "Now that I think back, I suppose it does seem that I'm blaming Christian for a lot," she admitted. "And in spite of his rebelliousness, Christian has always had a healthy dose of common sense. He merely wanted independence and to be allowed to make his own choices and lead his own life as he wished. But Roald has never had a clear goal for himself as Christian did, and he's never shown interest in having one. I don't know what it will take for him to pull his life together."

"One thing is certain," Roarke said, leaning forward. "Though it's painful to say, and more so for you to accept, you must realize that no one can change Roald's life except Roald himself. Believe me, Your Highness, I understand all too well how painful it is to watch your child make one mistake after another, and to be unable to make that child see how those mistakes can affect his future. Unfortunately, there is little else a parent can do. One can warn one's child only so much and so far. After that, it's up to the child to make the choice, whether it's the right one or the wrong one. And while you may feel obligated to be his safety net, that too can be detrimental. Allowing Roald to face the consequences of whatever destructive actions he takes will, in the long run, teach him far more than a series of warnings and admonitions and even punishments."

"Carl Johan has said that more than once," Anna-Laura murmured. "I'm afraid I wasn't listening to him."

"You're Roald's mother," Roarke said with a smile. "It's natural for a parent to resent what looks like the interference of others." He regarded Anna-Laura with sympathy and said, "While you are here, Your Highness, you might consider looking after yourself for a time. You've suffered the tragic loss of your daughter and son-in-law, and you've spent a great deal of time worrying over your son; and moreover, you are now entrusted with the care and upbringing of your granddaughter. You have resources here: Christian and Leslie will be glad to help in whatever ways they can, and as I mentioned, I also will do whatever possible to ease your stay here. You need not devote all your time and concern to Roald and the infant. Let Roald take care of himself, and let others care for the baby now and then—and think of yourself. Pamper yourself just a little. Give yourself a chance to begin healing. Take advantage of the services we have to offer, and try to relax a little, to let your cares fall away for a while. You can hardly give little Elisabeth the proper devotion if you neglect your own well-being."

Anna-Laura considered this for a few minutes, then looked up and nodded, slowly and uncertainly. "Yes, Mr. Roarke, perhaps you're right. It seems…wrong somehow, even disrespectful, as though I'm dishonoring my daughter's memory…"

"It's no such thing, Your Highness," Roarke assured her. "It's not at all wrong or disrespectful or lacking in honor. It's merely taking care of yourself so that you will be able to care for your granddaughter—and your son."

"If he'll let me," said Anna-Laura wryly, and Roarke chuckled. With a small smile, she rose and grasped his hand. "I'm grateful to you for taking the time out to let me release some of my worries. I can see why Leslie holds you in such high regard."

Roarke arose as well, smiling dismissively. "I am merely happy to do what I can for you," he said. "I wish you the best of luck—and I might also suggest that we have a day spa in town that you can take advantage of. Your granddaughter is in excellent hands; I've seen to it myself. Take some time for yourself."

"I will," said Anna-Laura and smiled hopefully. "Right now. Thank you, again."

Several hours later she joined Roarke, Christian, Leslie and Roald at dinner; the baby was still under the care of a sitter, and Anna-Laura intended to return to her bungalow after the meal. But the others noticed her refreshed look. "What did you do this afternoon, äldresyster?" Christian asked curiously.

"I had myself pampered, just a little," Anna-Laura said. "I had a facial and a wonderful massage, and I even had a pedicure and got my hair trimmed. Somehow I feel a little stronger now…more able to face whatever lies ahead."

Roald snorted. "So your well-being lies in making yourself look good? An interesting way you have of mourning Ceci and Axel."

"I needed to get away," said Anna-Laura. "And before you question me any further, Roald, I'd find it very interesting to know what happened to you all afternoon, that you couldn't be around to care for your niece a little bit."

Roald only shrugged. "I took some walks around here. There's not much else to do."

"There's a lot else to do," Leslie told him. "I'm sorry none of it seems to interest you. Still, sometimes just walking can help. I walked a lot by myself in my first few months here; that's how I got to know all the trails." Roald eyed her thoughtfully but made no further comment; and the conversation moved to other things.

Then Anna-Laura remarked, "You know, Christian, I haven't seen yours and Leslie's house yet. Are you two willing to have company this evening? If not, we can always arrange for tomorrow. I've heard some stories from Anna-Kristina."

Christian smiled and said, "I hope you won't mind waiting until tomorrow. I had to make a trip in to the office after we got back, and I'm more than ready to fall asleep right here at the table, if I dared be so gauche." His wife, sister and father-in-law chuckled. "But we'll be back tomorrow morning, and more than glad to give you the grand tour."

"Just don't mind the construction," Leslie kidded, and Anna-Laura laughed. "Give us a call when you're ready, okay? Our number's 695."

"That's all? Just six-nine-five?" Anna-Laura asked in surprise.

Christian nodded. "It's still a small island, and I understand that not all the population has telephones. We'll come and pick you up when you call."

§ § § -- December 23, 2003

"It's very lovely, and very spacious," Anna-Laura commented in wonder, taking in the interior of Christian and Leslie's house late Tuesday morning. "It looks quite small from the outside, but you've made wonderful use of the space. What rooms will be in the new part?"

"Two bedrooms and a bath upstairs, and a guest suite downstairs for any family who might want to stay for a time," Christian told her. "I suppose I had Carl Johan and Amalia in mind, considering what he's said before about Mariki."

Anna-Laura laughed and gently jounced the baby. "Then I hope it'll be sumptuous enough to fulfill his expectations!" She gazed out the glass doors to the back yard and said somewhat wistfully, "It seems you're more or less isolated out here, except for that house across the street. It feels like a hideaway from the world."

Christian and Leslie looked at each other, and he chuckled a little ruefully before admitting, "Perhaps that's what I had in mind. But I should tell you that it was Leslie who found the plot. I simply happened to like what I saw, and the relative remoteness was just a bonus. The folks across from us are friends of ours, and we're only a few kilometers away from the access road into this area, so we're not complete recluses here. However, being some distance out from the resort end of the island allows us to more fully enjoy the nature around here. At night we can even hear the ocean in the distance."

His sister regarded him with an exaggeratedly knowing look. "Making up for the fact that you had a mid-bank room growing up, and never got to listen to the ocean, unlike all the rest of us…is that it?"

"Stop psychoanalyzing me," Christian ordered, laughing. "Maybe there's something to that, but I never really considered it. So do you like the place, or don't you?"

Anna-Laura grinned and relented, conceding, "To be honest, I'm a little jealous. In fact, I was hoping I might be able to take Elisabeth for a little walk around here and get a closer look at all the exotic flora, and perhaps even some fauna. You two don't have to come along. I just need a little quiet and solitude."

"Go right ahead," said Leslie. "Take all the time you want. Christian and I are planning to relax today, so we'll be here whenever you come back."

They watched her cross the yard with Elisabeth in her luxurious baby stroller and looked at each other. "She seems to be doing better," Christian said with cautious hope.

Leslie nodded, glancing after her sister-in-law. "At least she's getting out and looking around. Father must have talked her into that spa visit yesterday. She wouldn't've known it was there otherwise. But you're right, I think she's already begun the healing process." She looked curiously at Christian. "Did you notice she didn't mention Roald once, from the moment we came to pick her up?"

"Yes, I did," Christian said. "All I can infer from that is that she's decided to worry about herself, make herself stronger, and let Roald handle his own problems. He's certainly old enough. Well, why don't we finish unpacking."

Anna-Laura walked briskly along the lane till she was out of sight of Christian and Leslie's house; then she slowed to a stroll and let herself absorb the sights and sounds around her. Elisabeth was awake and apparently fascinated by the variety of tropical flowers; frequently Anna-Laura caught sight of her granddaughter's hand reaching out to touch one or another. Once, just for a second, a large, brightly-colored butterfly landed on the back of Elisabeth's hand, and she squealed in surprise and delight; the insect promptly fluttered away, and Anna-Laura stopped to watch it heading for the jungle on the other side of the lane. Elisabeth leaned out of the side of the stroller and stretched out towards the vanishing butterfly. "All gone, little one," Anna-Laura said in jordiska, with a sad smile. "We might see another one if we watch for it."

She pushed the stroller forward again, and Elisabeth shortly forgot about the butterfly in her renewed fascination with the flowers. But Anna-Laura found herself wishing she could have shared all this with her daughter and son-in-law, and lost herself in wishes and sorrow. By the time she realized where she was, she didn't quite recognize anything around her. She glanced behind her and noticed that she had reached the end of the lane, and was standing in the intersection where it connected with the access road from the Ring Road. She could see traces of some building material—stone or perhaps marble, judging from the light color—through the trees, and suddenly remembered Leslie explaining that this area was called the Enclave and consisted of mansions belonging mostly to reclusive or absentee owners. Sometimes, Leslie had said, Roarke would arrange with one or another absentee owner for the use of a mansion in a fantasy, but otherwise most guests didn't know this neighborhood existed. Again Anna-Laura saw the appeal of a place like this to her privacy-craving younger brother and thought with a flash of humor, I daresay Christian protests too much about his choice of residence!

She pushed the stroller across the lane and walked slowly along the tall concealing hedge fronting this particular property. At the far end the hedge stopped and continued along the property line. There was a strip of carefully-tended lawn perhaps five feet wide, set at regular intervals with large stepping stones. At its left was a waist-height white-brick wall setting off the next-door property, which Anna-Laura could see was a curious but appealing architectural mix of Tudor, A-frame and castle tower. A few trees dotted the golf-course-green grounds, but she saw no one out and about. She was about to move on when she heard the quiet trickle of flowing water from somewhere, and instead she turned the stroller down the strip of lawn, steering it around the stepping stones, hearing the trickling sound grow steadily louder. In a few minutes she located its source: a generous koi pond, fed by an ostentatiously large artificial waterfall. The flash of the exotic, expensive fish in the water caught her attention, and she squeezed between the tall bushes forming this section of the hedge, pulling the stroller through after her. Elisabeth's eyes were huge, fixed on the fish darting through the clear water; and Anna-Laura herself found a strange tranquility in just watching them swim.

"What in hell are you doing on my private property?" an angry voice demanded.

Both Anna-Laura and Elisabeth looked up; the baby stared at the tall man standing on the far side of the pond, while Anna-Laura instantly stood up. "Forgive me…I heard the water falling," Anna-Laura explained, "and I wondered what it was. Your pond is lovely."

"Well, you have some nerve, just traipsing along looking for my pond. Before I decide to call the authorities on you, you'd better take your baby and get out." The man scowled at her, and Anna-Laura stared back at him, her royal ire suddenly rising.

"You certainly have a welcoming manner about you," she remarked sarcastically. "Go ahead and phone Mr. Roarke if you will, but I doubt you'll get much satisfaction from that." She raised her chin, murmured to the baby in her own tongue and began to push the stroller back through the bushes.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the man demanded.

Anna-Laura turned back. "I think," she retorted icily, "that I am Princess Anna-Laura of Lilla Jordsö. If you need some proof of my identity, then call Mr. Roarke as you said you would do."

"Good Lord," the man uttered, his belligerent demeanor falling away. "I didn't even realize it was you…but I recognize you now. Saw the pictures in my newspaper. What're you doing here on this island?"

"Primarily visiting my brother and sister-in-law," Anna-Laura replied, her voice thawing only slightly. "Perhaps I had better return to them; they wouldn't mind half as much as you do if someone were to admire their property."

The man sighed and ran a hand through his graying caramel-colored hair. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that it's been hard for me to maintain my privacy, and I thought I'd finally achieved that goal by buying the island newspaper five years ago and taking up residence in this mansion. Please accept my apologies, Your Highness. Is that your granddaughter?"

Anna-Laura paused, regarded him a little suspiciously and finally nodded. "Yes, this is Elisabeth. We call her Lisi for short. Who, then, are you?"

The man smiled crookedly and said, "Guess my manners are in really short supply today. I'm Gregory Nordeman—publisher by trade. I own ten newspapers in various countries, including the Fantasy Island Chronicle, which is why I reside here. Once again, Your Highness, I apologize. Stay and enjoy the pond if you like."

Anna-Laura hesitated, then eyed him curiously. "Don't you ever come out here to look into the pond, Mr. Nordeman? It seems odd to me that you have it here and yet don't like to have people come to see it. The landscaping all but pleads with visitors to come look."

"The landscaping was the previous owner's doing," Nordeman said. "I'd have changed it, but it's more money than I want to bother spending. It's not as if I get a lot of trespassers anyway. And before you wonder, yes, I do come out to look at the pond now and then. It gives me a sense of peace when I need it."

"I was seeking that myself," Anna-Laura said softly, "and it's very good for that. Now I think when I return home, I'll suggest to my brother Carl Johan that we think about putting in a koi pond at the castle. It would be lovely in the front grounds."

Nordeman cleared his throat. "This might sound out of line, but I was just thinking. I didn't give you much of an apology there…I hope you'll let me make up for my rudeness by having dinner here with me. This evening, if you can."

Anna-Laura stared at him. Now that his features had softened, she could see that he was a rather attractive man, perhaps a few years older than she, with a lined face and an oddly haunted look in his blue eyes. He wasn't overweight but was fairly solidly built, and looked as if he tried to keep in shape somewhat, though the slight paunch at his waistline testified otherwise. Finally she said, "Why would you, who seem to value privacy even more highly than my prickly little brother, want to invite a total stranger to dinner?"

"You're not a total stranger anymore," Nordeman pointed out with a faint smile, "now that we know each other's names."

There was silence for a beat; then Anna-Laura laughed, surprising herself perhaps more than him. "I have to admit, you have a point there, Mr. Nordeman."

"Please call me Gregory," he broke in and grinned fully. "Maybe if I'm lucky, you'll forgive me and we can become friends."

Anna-Laura giggled again, surprised to find herself beginning to develop a genuine liking for this man. "I'd certainly rather have a friend than an enemy. Thank you, Gregory, I'd like very much to have dinner here. What time should I arrive?"