§ § § -- November 6, 1982
On Saturday morning it was Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie who greeted the weekend guests. Julie, having spent a year working as an additional assistant to Roarke, had earned the money she needed to get her bed-and- breakfast operation under way, and was now doing a brisk enough business that she no longer had time to work for Roarke. Roarke had given Leslie a few of the duties Julie used to carry out, but her time was still limited due to school. Leslie was eagerly looking forward to her graduation the next spring.
Roarke introduced a trio of friends who wanted to experience the first wagon train to Oregon in the early nineteenth century; then a young Asian woman disembarked from the plane, her face alight with happiness. She stopped to collect a lei from every single girl along the docking ramp and exchanged a few words with each, as if she knew them all. "What's this, a homecoming or something?" Leslie asked.
Roarke and Tattoo both laughed, and Tattoo said, "You ought to recognize her, Leslie."
"Indeed," Roarke concurred. "That's Andrea Ichino, your friend Camille's sister, who has returned home to Fantasy Island from Harvard, where she has been studying journalism."
"But she hasn't graduated yet, has she?" Leslie asked. "Lauren told us she's in her last year."
"Yes," said Roarke. "Due to...certain circumstances, of which you are both well aware, Andrea has taken a short leave of absence from her studies in order to 'catch her breath', as she put it, before she returns to Boston for her final semester. Ostensibly, while she is here, her fantasy is to work on her main assignment for the year: a meticulously researched article to be published in a local newspaper."
"And she came back to Fantasy Island to do that?" Tattoo scoffed. "I suppose if she feels like researching superstitions about Mount Tutumoa, or explaining the properties of some of those plants you use for potions and stuff, boss, she'll have plenty of material at hand."
"As a matter of fact, she will," Roarke said, "but her article will have nothing to do with Fantasy Island, my friend. Rather, it will be tied in very closely with recent events, and Leslie, I suspect you will be fairly heavily involved." And with that, he accepted his usual beverage and formally greeted their guests, forestalling the boatload of questions Leslie wanted to ask.
About thirty minutes later, Andrea arrived at the main house, lugging a wheeled suitcase and a large carry-on bag that was slung over her shoulder. Roarke rose from his chair in surprise. "Miss Ichino! We weren't expecting you here until this afternoon. Haven't you spent any time with your family?"
"They're the reason I came here first," Andrea said, leaving the suitcase in the foyer and dropping her carry-on beside it before coming down the steps into the study. "Or, more correctly, one of them is. My sister Camille." Andrea focused on Leslie. "I take it you're Leslie Hamilton, one of Camille's friends?" Leslie nodded, wondering how much Andrea knew. "Nice to meet you."
"You too," Leslie murmured, unsure what else she should say.
Andrea seemed to notice this and smiled. "Listen," she said, "I know what happened last Sunday. That's why I'm here." While Leslie gaped at her, she turned to Roarke. "I know I told you that I'm here to research my assignment and all, and it's true, I am. You see, the subject of my article is prejudice and what it does to people and their relationships with one another. And my little sister has proven to be a textbook example that I can use in the article."
"How did you find out so fast?" Leslie finally blurted out.
Andrea turned to her and smiled again. "My parents. I understand that both my brother and sister were at the same Halloween party you went to. Well, I guess Tommy spilled the beans to my parents, since they're the ones who told me everything they knew. They even said the whole thing was rooted in my rape." She said the word easily, without hesitation. "The trial just ended, and the guy who did it was found guilty. He's going to be deported. I've been in Boston nonstop since I first left the island to go to Harvard, and I decided I needed a break for awhile. The fact is, when I got that little story from my parents, I knew right away what I wanted my article to be about. All the research material I need is right here, and I'm going to make full use of it. And maybe, just maybe, I can set my sister's mind straight."
Roarke nodded. "I see," he said. "But I must ask you, how exactly does Leslie fit into your plans?"
"Well, to start with, a little brain-picking is in order," Andrea said and settled herself in one of the twin club chairs in front of Roarke's desk. "Right now, I intend to take some notes on what she remembers from the party, and then she's going to help me get together with the rest of Camille's friends." She paused a moment and glanced at Leslie. "That is, if they still think of themselves as her friends."
Leslie began to turn red and hunched her shoulders; Roarke, noting this, stood up. "Take all the time you need, then," he said. "Tattoo and I have another fantasy to see to. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Ichino, and good writing." Andrea smiled in reply. "Tattoo?" Roarke gestured toward the foyer, and Tattoo preceded his boss out the door.
Left alone in the quiet study, Andrea and Leslie studied each other for a moment. Then Andrea cleared her throat. "This could take a while," she said. "Do you think we can get some lemonade or something?"
"I'll get it," Leslie offered and fairly leaped from her chair; but she got no farther than the foyer before a plump Polynesian woman appeared from the kitchen area. "Oh, Mariki."
"Good morning, Miss Leslie. I understand someone's looking for some lemonade?"
Leslie nodded sheepishly. "Two glasses, please." The Polynesian woman turned back toward the kitchen, and Leslie retreated to her chair. "That's Mariki," she explained. "Mr. Roarke just hired her after the last cook retired. She lives pretty close by, so she's always here before we're awake for the day."
Andrea grinned. "Things sure are changing around here. My parents keep me up-to-date on what's been happening on the island ever since I left for Harvard, and that's how I knew about you. To be completely honest, I'm surprised Camille became friends with you. Ever since the rape, she's become a different person. I assume you know about it."
"Lauren told us the basic story," Leslie said, shifting in her chair for a more comfortable position. "From the way she told it, it sounded like Camille didn't have these feelings before...what happened to you." She tipped her head to one side, bewilderment on her face. "Actually, I'd have thought the whole thing would have affected you, not her. After all, you're the one who had to go through the, uh..."
"Rape," Andrea gently supplied the word. "Don't be shy about saying it, Leslie. Dancing around it won't make it any easier, and it doesn't change what happened. I went through some pretty extensive therapy after the rape and all through my sophomore year, and it helped me come to terms with it." She, too, shifted in her chair. "But you're right. Anybody would think I'd be a wreck and Camille would be supporting me. But it didn't happen that way. Camille and I were always close. There are four years between us, but we shared a bedroom, so we used to talk at night before we went to sleep. When she was really little and the shortest kid in her class, I used to kind of protect her from the bullies who teased her all the time. Maybe that created a sort of hero-worship thing on her part, but it was natural for me to defend my little sister. Who'd think that kind of thing would lead to something like this?"
"Did she used to be prejudiced back then?" Leslie asked.
Andrea thought for a few minutes, during which time Mariki appeared with the lemonade and handed a glass to each girl. They murmured their thanks, and Mariki departed. "I don't really remember that she was," Andrea mused at length. "Not that I would have noticed, I don't think. There weren't as many Caucasians on the island as there are now, and Camille went to school mainly with Polynesians and other Asians. Besides, it would have seemed strange for her to be like that, because my mother's younger sister married an airman from the base over on Coral Island. Camille and Lauren always got along well, and she never showed any hostility toward Lauren's dad." Something seemed to occur to Andrea in the wake of this statement, and she peered at Leslie. "Do you know how she is around him now?"
Leslie shook her head. "I've never really seen them together. Just once at Lauren's last birthday party, and I don't remember seeing her talk to him or anything."
"Uh-huh," mumbled Andrea, making some notes on a pad for a few minutes. Leslie sipped lemonade and watched her, wondering what kind of plan Andrea had for Camille. Presently Andrea looked up, capping her pen, and smiled. "Okay. Next mission, we go talk to Lauren."
On Saturday morning it was Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie who greeted the weekend guests. Julie, having spent a year working as an additional assistant to Roarke, had earned the money she needed to get her bed-and- breakfast operation under way, and was now doing a brisk enough business that she no longer had time to work for Roarke. Roarke had given Leslie a few of the duties Julie used to carry out, but her time was still limited due to school. Leslie was eagerly looking forward to her graduation the next spring.
Roarke introduced a trio of friends who wanted to experience the first wagon train to Oregon in the early nineteenth century; then a young Asian woman disembarked from the plane, her face alight with happiness. She stopped to collect a lei from every single girl along the docking ramp and exchanged a few words with each, as if she knew them all. "What's this, a homecoming or something?" Leslie asked.
Roarke and Tattoo both laughed, and Tattoo said, "You ought to recognize her, Leslie."
"Indeed," Roarke concurred. "That's Andrea Ichino, your friend Camille's sister, who has returned home to Fantasy Island from Harvard, where she has been studying journalism."
"But she hasn't graduated yet, has she?" Leslie asked. "Lauren told us she's in her last year."
"Yes," said Roarke. "Due to...certain circumstances, of which you are both well aware, Andrea has taken a short leave of absence from her studies in order to 'catch her breath', as she put it, before she returns to Boston for her final semester. Ostensibly, while she is here, her fantasy is to work on her main assignment for the year: a meticulously researched article to be published in a local newspaper."
"And she came back to Fantasy Island to do that?" Tattoo scoffed. "I suppose if she feels like researching superstitions about Mount Tutumoa, or explaining the properties of some of those plants you use for potions and stuff, boss, she'll have plenty of material at hand."
"As a matter of fact, she will," Roarke said, "but her article will have nothing to do with Fantasy Island, my friend. Rather, it will be tied in very closely with recent events, and Leslie, I suspect you will be fairly heavily involved." And with that, he accepted his usual beverage and formally greeted their guests, forestalling the boatload of questions Leslie wanted to ask.
About thirty minutes later, Andrea arrived at the main house, lugging a wheeled suitcase and a large carry-on bag that was slung over her shoulder. Roarke rose from his chair in surprise. "Miss Ichino! We weren't expecting you here until this afternoon. Haven't you spent any time with your family?"
"They're the reason I came here first," Andrea said, leaving the suitcase in the foyer and dropping her carry-on beside it before coming down the steps into the study. "Or, more correctly, one of them is. My sister Camille." Andrea focused on Leslie. "I take it you're Leslie Hamilton, one of Camille's friends?" Leslie nodded, wondering how much Andrea knew. "Nice to meet you."
"You too," Leslie murmured, unsure what else she should say.
Andrea seemed to notice this and smiled. "Listen," she said, "I know what happened last Sunday. That's why I'm here." While Leslie gaped at her, she turned to Roarke. "I know I told you that I'm here to research my assignment and all, and it's true, I am. You see, the subject of my article is prejudice and what it does to people and their relationships with one another. And my little sister has proven to be a textbook example that I can use in the article."
"How did you find out so fast?" Leslie finally blurted out.
Andrea turned to her and smiled again. "My parents. I understand that both my brother and sister were at the same Halloween party you went to. Well, I guess Tommy spilled the beans to my parents, since they're the ones who told me everything they knew. They even said the whole thing was rooted in my rape." She said the word easily, without hesitation. "The trial just ended, and the guy who did it was found guilty. He's going to be deported. I've been in Boston nonstop since I first left the island to go to Harvard, and I decided I needed a break for awhile. The fact is, when I got that little story from my parents, I knew right away what I wanted my article to be about. All the research material I need is right here, and I'm going to make full use of it. And maybe, just maybe, I can set my sister's mind straight."
Roarke nodded. "I see," he said. "But I must ask you, how exactly does Leslie fit into your plans?"
"Well, to start with, a little brain-picking is in order," Andrea said and settled herself in one of the twin club chairs in front of Roarke's desk. "Right now, I intend to take some notes on what she remembers from the party, and then she's going to help me get together with the rest of Camille's friends." She paused a moment and glanced at Leslie. "That is, if they still think of themselves as her friends."
Leslie began to turn red and hunched her shoulders; Roarke, noting this, stood up. "Take all the time you need, then," he said. "Tattoo and I have another fantasy to see to. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Ichino, and good writing." Andrea smiled in reply. "Tattoo?" Roarke gestured toward the foyer, and Tattoo preceded his boss out the door.
Left alone in the quiet study, Andrea and Leslie studied each other for a moment. Then Andrea cleared her throat. "This could take a while," she said. "Do you think we can get some lemonade or something?"
"I'll get it," Leslie offered and fairly leaped from her chair; but she got no farther than the foyer before a plump Polynesian woman appeared from the kitchen area. "Oh, Mariki."
"Good morning, Miss Leslie. I understand someone's looking for some lemonade?"
Leslie nodded sheepishly. "Two glasses, please." The Polynesian woman turned back toward the kitchen, and Leslie retreated to her chair. "That's Mariki," she explained. "Mr. Roarke just hired her after the last cook retired. She lives pretty close by, so she's always here before we're awake for the day."
Andrea grinned. "Things sure are changing around here. My parents keep me up-to-date on what's been happening on the island ever since I left for Harvard, and that's how I knew about you. To be completely honest, I'm surprised Camille became friends with you. Ever since the rape, she's become a different person. I assume you know about it."
"Lauren told us the basic story," Leslie said, shifting in her chair for a more comfortable position. "From the way she told it, it sounded like Camille didn't have these feelings before...what happened to you." She tipped her head to one side, bewilderment on her face. "Actually, I'd have thought the whole thing would have affected you, not her. After all, you're the one who had to go through the, uh..."
"Rape," Andrea gently supplied the word. "Don't be shy about saying it, Leslie. Dancing around it won't make it any easier, and it doesn't change what happened. I went through some pretty extensive therapy after the rape and all through my sophomore year, and it helped me come to terms with it." She, too, shifted in her chair. "But you're right. Anybody would think I'd be a wreck and Camille would be supporting me. But it didn't happen that way. Camille and I were always close. There are four years between us, but we shared a bedroom, so we used to talk at night before we went to sleep. When she was really little and the shortest kid in her class, I used to kind of protect her from the bullies who teased her all the time. Maybe that created a sort of hero-worship thing on her part, but it was natural for me to defend my little sister. Who'd think that kind of thing would lead to something like this?"
"Did she used to be prejudiced back then?" Leslie asked.
Andrea thought for a few minutes, during which time Mariki appeared with the lemonade and handed a glass to each girl. They murmured their thanks, and Mariki departed. "I don't really remember that she was," Andrea mused at length. "Not that I would have noticed, I don't think. There weren't as many Caucasians on the island as there are now, and Camille went to school mainly with Polynesians and other Asians. Besides, it would have seemed strange for her to be like that, because my mother's younger sister married an airman from the base over on Coral Island. Camille and Lauren always got along well, and she never showed any hostility toward Lauren's dad." Something seemed to occur to Andrea in the wake of this statement, and she peered at Leslie. "Do you know how she is around him now?"
Leslie shook her head. "I've never really seen them together. Just once at Lauren's last birthday party, and I don't remember seeing her talk to him or anything."
"Uh-huh," mumbled Andrea, making some notes on a pad for a few minutes. Leslie sipped lemonade and watched her, wondering what kind of plan Andrea had for Camille. Presently Andrea looked up, capping her pen, and smiled. "Okay. Next mission, we go talk to Lauren."