§ § § - May 20, 1979
"We brought you something, Alison," said Adelaide Byers, alias Scarlet Blacke, extending a large, brightly wrapped box at Alison while Roarke looked on. "We hope you'll like it!"
There seemed to be nothing more Alison could do than to accept the box, remove the gaudily beribboned bow and tear away the wrapping paper, extracting several national costumes from assorted European countries. Leslie moved slightly and Roarke's attention shifted to her; she peeked between her fingers to take in the scene. But Roarke knew she wasn't focusing on Alison's gift; she was taking in the reactions of her friends and the other two party guests. All six girls were clearly stricken speechless with awe at being in the presence of showbiz royalty. She moaned softly and turned away again, mumbling behind her hands, "Alison's going to hate me forever."
"Well, she doesn't exactly look thrilled, but I don't think she's gonna hate you," Tattoo said, as if surprised.
"You don't understand," Leslie hissed frantically at him, making him rear back slightly with wide eyes. "She can't show it in front of them, but as soon as she gets a chance, she's going to call me every single name in the book. I promise you she will. You just wait and see."
"Those are so beautiful!" blurted Michiko all of a sudden from behind her, and this time Leslie reluctantly joined Roarke and Tattoo in looking on. "What countries do they come from?"
Mortimer "Tim" Byers, otherwise and more widely known as Blaze Blacke, beamed and lifted each costume from the edge of the box where Alison had draped them, naming the countries they came from and telling a little bit about them. Alison watched; Leslie couldn't quite decipher her expression, but she could see that Tattoo was right about her not looking thrilled. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited miserably while Blaze Blacke finished talking about the costumes and then turned and hugged Alison. "I'm glad Catherine brought you here, hon. Looks like you've made some new friends, and I can see Mr. Roarke and Tattoo are taking good care of you."
"Oh, yeah, sure," Alison said flatly, and Leslie hung her head. The birthday girl turned to the others and muttered bitterly, "I guess you all want autographs. Go ahead, you might as well." She proceeded to stalk out of the clearing, brushing past Leslie as if the latter girl weren't even there; and Leslie herself couldn't bear it anymore. Feeling like a complete failure, she took to her heels, racing into the house and upstairs to her room.
After a little while, no more than perhaps ten minutes, Tattoo came up and tapped on her door before asking, "You okay? The boss wanted me to take you with me to check up on Luke Endicott one more time."
Anything to escape, Leslie thought, and agreed, nearly crowding Tattoo out of the way as he pushed open the door to the time-travel room. They stayed long enough to watch Luke, in the "role" of Aladdin, summon the genie from the magic lamp; the boy watched with stunned delight as the genie materialized in the air and boomed out a greeting. Leslie sighed and mumbled, "I wish I had a genie to give me three wishes. My first one would be to become invisible."
Tattoo peered at her, then clucked his tongue a few times. "You know that's no solution, Leslie."
"It would be for the rest of the day," she retorted. "Just till Alison Byers goes home."
Tattoo cast one more concerned glance toward Luke, but it was clear he was doing fine, so he took Leslie's arm and brought her back through the time-travel room and into the study. "You're taking the blame for what happened, for no good reason," Tattoo said. "You're not the one who got in touch with Scarlet and Blaze Blacke and told them to come here, were you?"
"No, but who did? Was it Mr. Roarke?" Leslie wanted to know.
"It wasn't anybody," Tattoo said, shaking his head and looking solemn. "They came here themselves. No one told them or even asked them to. They just did it."
"Well, Alison'll still blame me," Leslie insisted. "We'd kind of started bonding because we've both dealt with bullies in school. And I told her I understood she just wanted a plain old regular birthday party with friends attending it—people who didn't know whose daughter she is. And she was having it, too, till her parents showed up. What happened? I thought they were on tour in Europe!"
"They are," Tattoo said. "The boss told me. He said they'd been saving this visit as a surprise for Alison. They had this planned, and Miss Schultz had something else planned, and it just looks like everything clashed."
"Yeah, that's for sure," Leslie agreed glumly. "Where's Mr. Roarke?"
"Talking to Alison," said Tattoo. "He'll tell her it's not your fault and she shouldn't blame you. Oh, and by the way, I think your friends are wondering where you went." He gestured to the window, where Leslie's friends and the other two girls from school were standing in a loose huddle, talking to one another. Frequently one of the girls would glance around as if waiting for something.
Leslie blew out her breath. "I guess I have to go explain now. Will you help me, please?"
"I'll come with you, sure, but I don't think you should worry so much." Tattoo winked at her, solemn as ever, then gestured toward the foyer. She sighed again and plodded reluctantly across the room and out the door.
As soon as she stepped out onto the porch, her friends saw her. "Leslie, geez, what happened to you?" Camille yelled. "And what the heck's the thing with Alison?"
"Are her parents really Blaze and Scarlet Blacke?" Wendy exclaimed, actually sounding breathless. "I mean, wow! What a life she must have!"
"Yeah, I gotta agree with that," Lauren remarked, grinning.
"I wish somebody'd show up and bring me goodies like that at my birthday party," said Myeko enviously. "I love those costumes. And having parents who can just shower stuff like that on you..."
"You can say that again," Greta chimed in.
"Come down here and tell us about it, Leslie," Michiko urged. "We're dying of curiosity."
Leslie gave up and trudged across the porch, down the steps and into the yard. "You guys...it's not as great as it looks. Alison's governess brought here here because she had a fantasy for Alison—to give her some confidence and optimism. I thought...well, see, Alison and I started talking..." She explained the entire story to the other girls, who listened intently, glancing at one another now and then.
When she finished, Michiko shook her head. "What a life! And what kind of stupid kids make fun of someone when she can't help who her parents are?" For some reason Wendy, Greta, Camille and even Myeko turned red; Lauren nodded agreement with Michiko. "So okay, I see what's going on here, but why did you run off like that?"
"Because I figured Alison would decide I must've arranged to have her parents come here for her birthday party and give away her secret, so she'd blame me for ruining her party," said Leslie.
Lauren snorted, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "Well, I tell you what, she was mad when she stomped out of here all right, but I don't think you're the one she was mad at. The whole time Blaze Blacke was talking about the costumes, Alison was standing there glaring at him or at her mom. She didn't look at you even once."
"That doesn't mean anything," Leslie argued. "She walked right by me and wouldn't even look at me when she did."
"She wouldn't look at anybody else either," parried Michiko. "Leslie, really, what's with you? Do you want to be the one to blame or something?"
Stung, Leslie protested, "Of course not! It's just that...well, that's just the way it works. It's the kind of dumb luck I always have." It's what my stupid father used to do, she didn't say, mostly because of the presence of Wendy and Greta. If anything went wrong, the twins and I got the blame for it whether it was our fault or not. She threw a pleading glance at Tattoo, but he was wearing that sphinxlike expression she had begun to really hate.
"Geez, Leslie," said Camille, rolling her eyes. "Not everything bad that happens is your fault. Maybe you oughta talk to Alison about it."
"If she still wants to talk to me," Leslie muttered.
"She might," Myeko said, and Leslie noticed that her focus was on something somewhere behind her. She turned and saw Roarke approaching with Alison at his side, and bit her lip, watching them coming along the lane and into the yard.
"Hi, Leslie," Alison said and smiled apologetically. "Sorry I ran out on the party like I did."
Startled, Leslie blinked at her. "But I...I mean, I left right after you did. I thought..."
"You thought I was gonna blame you when my parents showed up?" Alison asked, and Leslie nodded. "Naah, I knew it wasn't you." She blushed and flicked Roarke a sheepish, furtive half-second peek over the tops of her glasses. "Actually, at first I blamed Mr. Roarke."
"Why?" asked Myeko before she thought.
Alison shrugged. "Well, I mean, he runs the island and all that, and, well...I just figured he must've arranged it so my parents would come here for my birthday. You know how adults are, thinking they know what's best for kids all the time." The girls all snickered as Roarke's brows popped up with amusement and Tattoo put on a mask of exaggerated affrontery. "Anyway, he told me it wasn't anything like that. See...what happened was that my governess, Miss Schultz, wanted a fantasy for me. I guess she was hoping maybe I'd make friends for the first time ever. And my parents said yeah, go ahead and bring me here to Fantasy Island. So she did—but Mom and Dad didn't tell her they were planning to secretly ditch the tour for a couple days so they could fly here and be with me on my birthday. It wasn't Mr. Roarke's fault or even Miss Schultz's fault, and it sure as heck wasn't yours, so I'm not mad at you." She shook her head. "It's my parents I'm mad at."
"Alison," Roarke said gently, "remember what we discussed."
Alison's mouth twisted, and Leslie peered up at her guardian. "What did you discuss?"
"That's for later," said Roarke. "Ladies...I presume you all enjoyed the party."
"We did," said Greta with enthusiasm. "Never thought I'd get to meet Blaze and Scarlet Blacke though. That was a really cool bonus."
"Thanks for saying we could get their autographs, Alison," Wendy put in, brandishing a signed party napkin. "That was really nice of you. And seriously, happy birthday."
"Yeah, it was cool," said Camille, "and I don't even like country music." The girls laughed.
Only Alison remained sour-faced. "Yeah, well, that's the whole point. When people look at me, they don't see me. They see Blaze and Scarlet Blacke's kid. Most people I know back home...the dumb hicks I go to school with...well, they make fun of me about it. Some of the things they say—they think there's no way a plain, ugly, klutzy nothing like me could be their daughter. And kids who don't make fun of me, well, once they find out who I am, all they want is for me to get my parents' autographs for them, or free records, or free concert tickets. A couple of guys I go to school with even tried to make me get them an audition with my parents so they could suddenly start fabulous careers as child-prodigy musical geniuses. And when I wouldn't do any of that, they all got mean, and never let me forget it. The only reason anybody cares about hanging out with me is so they can get to my parents. I'm sick of it like you wouldn't believe."
The girls looked at one another in surprise and some shame. "Wow," murmured Greta.
"Holy paradise," Lauren said, "it's really like that for you? Can't you just change schools and go someplace where nobody knows who you are?"
"That was the idea behind this weekend and this birthday party," Alison told her. "And it was working, too. None of you, except Leslie, knew who I really was, and I actually felt like a normal kid for a change—a normal kid who could have actual, real, honest-to-god friends." Her face grew stony. "And then my parents barged in and spoiled the whole thing."
"Never mind your parents, though," Lauren said. "Like I said, can't you change schools?"
"Of course not," Alison said with a curled lip. "My parents want me to have as normal a life as possible, so I go to the public junior-high school in our district. Yeah, right. What's so normal about being hated and bullied by every single kid in your grade, and having no friends at all?"
"Cripes," Myeko said, disgusted. "Even a boarding school's better than that. Did you ask your mom and dad about one of those, maybe? I mean, they're isolated and all that, and full of rich snobs, but at least nobody'd know who you are."
"I've asked about that, but they won't do it," said Alison. "So that's out." She eyed the girls and admitted, "You're the first people my age that I've met who actually look past the part of me about my famous parents. Leslie was really the first one, yesterday. I didn't realize she got bullied almost as much as I did."
"It's too bad you couldn't go to school here," said Michiko.
Alison sighed. "I wish. Even if my parents said yes, Mr. Roarke'd probably say no."
"That's up to your parents, Alison," Roarke said, "but should they decide to transfer their home base here to the island, at least while they are out on tour, I would be more than willing to work out something with them. However, it occurs to me that perhaps they, and your governess, are hoping that you might realize that not everyone wants to use you to get to your parents."
"They do at my school back home," Alison riposted. "And there's nothing I can do about that. I'm stuck with that school and those kids."
"Then you'll just have to learn to stand up to them," Tattoo said. "And I think Leslie and her friends here might be able to help you, if you'd like them to."
Alison looked a little doubtful, but she shrugged. "Well, I guess if they can see me instead of who my parents are, anything's possible." Everyone laughed, and she offered a quirky little half-smile that reinforced her skepticism; but Leslie was sure that several heads were far better than just one, and had high hopes for success.
‡ ‡ ‡
A little after four-thirty, Roarke arose from his desk to go to the time-travel room and bring Luke Endicott out of his fantasy. He was halfway across the room when Leslie burst in, her face bright. He smiled broadly at her. "There you are! How did it go with Alison?"
"We gave her all kinds of great ideas," Leslie said. "I didn't have a whole lot of them myself, but my friends did, and even though Wendy and Greta had to leave early to get back to Coral Island, they were still able to stay long enough to give Alison some ideas too. One of Greta's was that Alison should keep that makeover Miss Schultz gave her for her birthday, and try getting contact lenses too, if she can. And if not, at least get more stylish glasses. But Michiko and I especially knew that just changing her looks isn't gonna solve everything. So we did a lot of brainstorming, and gave Alison a huge list, and finally I thought she ought to just let her parents know what she's going through. She said they don't know. If she tells them, maybe she won't even need our list, because then they could make some serious changes for her."
Roarke smiled. "I look forward to hearing the solution, then. For now, why don't you come with me? It's just about time to bring back Luke Endicott; it's better that we do so now, since the potion I gave him yesterday won't last much longer."
Leslie's face fell as she followed him into the time-travel room. "It's a shame. I mean, he's a great little kid. Mr. Roarke..." She hesitated, aware of his eyes on her, unsure she should ask—but in the end her curiosity wouldn't be reined in. "Why do the good ones always die young?"
Roarke was silent for a moment or two; then he smiled a little and smoothed back her hair. "In the end, child, that's really only a saying. Death requires no criteria. Perhaps it seems that only the good die young, as the saying goes, because facing one's mortality often causes a great change in attitude, in one's fundamental outlook on life and those they share it with. Most of the time, that change is for the better. Despite the great price it seems to exact, it can't be denied that such a change in attitude benefits not only the attitude holder, but all those around that person."
"That makes sense," Leslie murmured. "I wonder if Mom had that."
"She had it before she knew," Roarke assured her gently. "With your mother, it was merely magnified. Knowing what would happen to her, and to you, gave her the chance to try to prepare for it, to leave you with as many pleasant memories as she could make for you, given the limitations put forth by your father. And some of those preparations, while they may have seemed unremarkable at the time, turned out to be the sort of tangible mementos that will help you keep those memories alive."
"Like the picture of me and Mom and the twins that I have in my room," Leslie offered.
"Exactly. That photo will allow you to keep them alive in your mind, to picture them just as they looked in your memories. I realize that at times, those reminders may bring on sadness at your loss—but as the years pass, my dear Leslie, they will become cherished treasures, and one day you'll share them with your own family." He smiled at her, then turned to face the far wall. "I believe he is about to come back."
No more than five seconds later, Luke and his magic carpet floated in, right through the wall somehow, and Luke called out, "Stop." As soon as the carpet halted, he added, "Down," and the little rug sank to the floor in a perfect soft landing. The boy gazed up at Roarke with a wistful smile. "This was the best fantasy in the whole world. You're the greatest, Mr. Roarke. I just wish I could have it for a little longer."
"Your parents might start to miss you," Roarke teased.
"Yeah, maybe they would," Luke allowed with a shrug. "But I still wish it didn't have to end." He fiddled with one of the tassels at the corners, then said hopefully, "Up?" The rug didn't move, and he sighed and got up, stepping onto the wooden floor. "Oh well."
Roarke laughed and ushered both Luke and Leslie out of the room; they could see the potion wearing off even as the boy crossed the room, and by the time he flopped into a chair, he looked weary, though still happy. "Wow, I'm beat. I guess all those adventures'll really make you tired."
"I expect so," chuckled Roarke, picking up the phone and calling the Endicotts' bungalow. They arrived within ten minutes, asking Luke about his fantasy and listening avidly while he regaled them with tales of his adventures.
"But you know what the best thing of all was?" Luke asked. "It was the flying carpet. 'Cause see, I was gonna be a pilot when I grew up." As he said this, he included Roarke, Leslie, and Tattoo, who had come in along with the other Endicotts. "I always figured I'd get a chance to fly a plane and see what it was like up in the clouds. And then the doctors told me I prob'ly won't get to grow up." He shrugged in a matter-of-fact manner, but the slight droop of his head and the softness of his voice told them he was more affected by this than he wanted to let on. "And I mean, it was really fun flying here all the way from home, and it'll be fun flying back too, but I wanted to be the pilot. Just once, I wanted to be driving the plane and not just riding in it. And wow, did I ever." At this his head came up and he looked at Roarke with shining eyes. "And that's 'cause you did it for me. It was fun bein' Sinbad and Ali Baba and Aladdin, but the flying carpet was the best part of the whole fantasy, 'cause I finally got to be a pilot like I wanted to. So I want to tell you thanks a gazillion." He stretched out his arms. "Can I hug you too, Mr. Roarke?"
"You certainly can," Roarke agreed with a broad smile, and arose from his desk, going around to Luke's chair and accepting—and returning—the boy's hug. Luke's parents were both trying, with little success, to stanch their tears; Tattoo wasn't even bothering, just standing there wearing a wistful little smile while his eyes overflowed. Leslie felt hers begin to sting a little and tried to swallow down the drumlin in her throat, thinking back once more to her own mother and sending up a few silent thanks of her own.
§ § § - May 21, 1979
They watched the Endicotts make their way across the green toward the balloon, with Gary carrying his fragile son. Tattoo whisked the black handkerchief from his jacket pocket, mopping at his eyes again. "What a terrific kid," he said, his French accent even thicker for his emotion. "It's not fair, boss, not fair at all."
"No, it isn't," Roarke agreed, his voice distant. "But if the world were fair, I wouldn't have the job I do, for there would be no need for it."
"But you're kind of fighting the unfairness, I think," Leslie ventured, making both her guardian and his assistant turn to stare at her with interest. "Even if Luke never gets to walk around on his own again, he'll never forget this weekend, and all the fun he had." She met Roarke's gaze and added bashfully, "I'm so glad I get to be a part of this—thanks for that, Mr. Roarke."
Roarke smiled and slipped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her fondly and releasing her just as the second rover came around with Alison, her parents and Catherine Schultz. "So," Roarke said when they had all stepped out of the car, "has this weekend been a good one for you, Alison?"
"Well, it must be good if I made some new friends," Alison remarked and grinned at Leslie. "Thanks for being my friend, Leslie. When Miss Schultz told me we were coming here, I thought it was just gonna be a big fat bore. But I got to hang out with you and some other girls who actually like me for me, and it turned out to be super-cool."
"Not only that," said her mother, "but we're going to pull her out of that school and take her on the rest of the tour with us. Catherine's going to be her tutor while we finish the European tour, and then when we get back, we're going to sell the mansion we live in now and buy a house out in the countryside. And Tim and I are going to cut way back on our work with Diamond Fire. We've been going strong for almost a decade and a half, and we have pretty much all the money we need to live comfortably till Alison's got her own family someday. We'll have to discuss it with the others in the band, but the plan is to retire from touring and just make occasional special appearances here and there, and be a studio group from now on. That way we get to spend more time with our daughter."
"We may even come back here later this summer for a rest," added Tim Byers, alias Blaze Blacke. "I think we've earned it."
"You'll be welcome," Roarke said warmly. "Congratulations and good luck—and once again, Alison, happy birthday."
They had waved the foursome away to the balloon when Tattoo let out a squawk and shot up to his full four feet. "Oh no! I can't believe it! How could I be so stupid?!"
He looked so shocked and horrified that Roarke and Leslie turned to him in alarm. "What's wrong, my friend?" Roarke exclaimed.
"I completely forgot to get their autographs!" Tattoo moaned. Leslie snickered in resignation, and Roarke awarded him a supremely dirty look before the calls of farewell from the balloon diverted his attention.
§ § § - June 2, 2012
"Did you ever get their autographs, my Rose?" Christian teased.
Leslie laughed. "Later that summer, yes, but it was actually cooler for me getting to hang out with Alison for the month they were here. Her parents ended up retiring from Diamond Fire a few years later, but by then they were all set for life. I like to think Alison did whatever it was she dreamed of doing and was a great success at it." She drew in a breath and sat back. "The year Lawrence was with us, we had at least a couple of fantasies that involved kids—if I remember right, in fact, they were on consecutive weekends."
"Oh?" said Christian.
"Wait, Mother," Karina broke in. "You said you'd tell us about your mother and your sisters."
Christian and Roarke both eyed Leslie, who smiled a little. "I know, honey. But I think we'd better wait till our last story before I do that. And how many more stories do you kids want us to tell you before we run out of time?"
"A whole bunch," Tobias said immediately.
"I want to hear about your mom and sisters too," Susanna said, "but I want to hear the stories. I want to hear all of it. And we get to, right? I mean, it is our birthday."
"You are a little conniver," Christian informed her, wagging an index finger at her, but with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. "Don't push your luck, birthday or not."
Roarke laughed. "Perhaps we should move to the living room where we'll be more comfortable while we tell you children these tales. I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind cleaning away the breakfast dishes and relaxing a bit."
Christian and Leslie talked the triplets into helping them clear the table; Anastasia, with her aversion to being left out of anything, pitched right in once she saw all three of her older siblings were helping out. As a result it took less than ten minutes for the kitchen to be cleaned and everyone to have moved into the living room; Leslie brought out a pitcher of Lilla Jordsö's signature summer drink, cherry seltzer, and some glasses, and soon she and Roarke were back in the storytelling game. "So there was this woman who wanted to be..." Leslie hesitated a moment, eyeing the kids, then peered at Roarke. "Remember the would-be swinger, Father? The one with the little kids who had no idea what their mother really wanted while they were here?"
Roarke chuckled. "I do indeed. But was that fantasy your choice or Lawrence's?"
"I thought it was yours," Leslie riposted.
"What's a swinger?" asked Susanna.
Christian cleared his throat. "Are you telling us about this only because there were children involved, for fate's sake?"
Leslie grinned sheepishly. "Well, let's put it this way. We had to tiptoe around it for the woman's kids too. And you can just imagine straitlaced Lawrence's reaction."
"What's a swinger?" Susanna demanded again.
"Something that was very big in the 60s and 70s, for the most part," said Leslie, "and something that only some very silly grownups wanted to do. Let's just say it means someone who wants to go out with lots of different people. If you guys want to hear this, you need to sit down and listen."
Christian grunted. "I'm not sure I want them to hear it. I seem to recall your observation that there were some very...shall we say, adult...fantasies during Lawrence's tenure as assistant."
"So it seems at first glance," Roarke agreed, "but—as Lawrence and Leslie agreed for one of the very few times they saw eye-to-eye on anything—everyone deserves a fantasy. And, however odd it may have seemed, these guests did as well..."
§ § § - December 3, 1983
The first person out of the seaplane's hatch on the first Saturday of the month was a white-haired fellow decked out like the captain of a yacht. "Sir, that man—" Lawrence began. "Something about him reminds me of the man in your Picasso painting."
"That's because Mr. Nikolos Karavatsos is that man," Roarke explained simply.
That, Leslie saw, impressed the usually unflappable Lawrence. "Karavatsos? The shipping tycoon?"
"Yes," confirmed Roarke.
"Hm, I am impressed," Lawrence remarked. "But what would a man worth billions want with a fantasy? Surely not more billions."
"As a matter of fact, quite the opposite is true," Roarke informed him.
"Are you saying he wants to give his money away?" queried Lawrence.
Leslie grinned. "Too bad Tattoo isn't here. You know he'd volunteer to be the first one to relieve this guy of a nice fat chunk of change."
Roarke chuckled and agreed, "I expect he would. However, in this case—if certain conditions can be met, yes, that's Mr. Karavatsos' fantasy. He wants to find people who desperately need help, so that he can use his vast wealth and influence to change their lives for the better."
"Impressive," Leslie said, and Roarke smiled at her, nodding before turning his attention to the plane again. This time two children—a dark-haired boy and a blonde little girl—emerged, followed by a woman as blonde as her daughter. "Don't tell me I'll be babysitting."
"What, you wouldn't like to earn a little extra spending money?" Roarke teased, and she rolled her eyes; he chuckled.
"Well, now, that's something I like to see," Lawrence said brightly. "A typical happy family."
"Really? Look again," said Roarke, sobering at speed.
Lawrence eyed them, and his smile vanished. "Oh. I see what you mean."
"No father," Leslie put in. "So what happened to him?"
"Unfortunately, single-parent families are most visible in today's society," Roarke said. "Mrs. Ashley is divorced and has the sole responsibility of caring for her daughter Jane and her son Michael."
"I'll bet she has her hands full with those two," Lawrence noted a bit direly.
"But she's probably a great mother," Leslie spoke up. "Devotes her life to her kids and that kind of thing—right?"
Roarke nodded, but went on, "For the first time since they were born, the welfare of her children is not foremost in Mrs. Ashley's mind. Her fantasy is to become...what she has never been before." Roarke's face took on a distinctly amused look.
Lawrence had a look about him of someone bracing for bad news. "And what is that, sir?" he inquired, apparently in spite of himself. Leslie, too, had an odd feeling; there had been so many fantasies since September that had fallen outside her comfort zone, she was sure this one wouldn't be any different.
And as it happened, she was right, for Roarke said, "A swinger."
Leslie swallowed a groan, and Lawrence's eyes popped. "A swinger?" he asked, nearly whispering, as if the woman had asked to commit a murder over the weekend.
"A swinger," said Roarke in a very matter-of-fact way.
"Well, sir," Lawrence commented, visibly pulling himself together, "I suppose that won't tax your awesome capabilities."
"No...not if Mrs. Ashley is prepared to sacrifice her most precious possession," Roarke said softly. "Her children."
Leslie wanted to protest that maybe that was a bit severe even for a strange fantasy like that, but before she could speak, a native girl brought Roarke the champagne glass with which he proceeded to toast his latest guests and welcome them to the island. She peered at Jane and Michael Ashley—neither of whom appeared to have seen their tenth birthdays yet—and found herself wondering who was going to explain their mother's fantasy to them. Probably me, she reflected gloomily.
