§ § § -- October 29, 1983
Lawrence returned with Julie and Frida a few minutes before Maureen and her parents arrived; Maureen and Frida greeted each other, and then they all turned to Roarke, who had been standing by the still-open French doors. "Ah," he said, "thank you all for coming."
"Is something wrong, Mr. Roarke?" Romana Tomai asked.
"Where's Leslie?" Maureen put in suddenly.
"Leslie is the reason I have called you here," Roarke said, glanced at Lawrence and then studied the small group. "I must ask you to not let one word of this go beyond this house -- please."
"We give you our word," replied Janos Tomai.
"Very well...thank you," Roarke said, and with that explained to the five newcomers what had happened to Leslie. Startled glances were exchanged, but no one said anything, except for Julie.
"Good Lord, uncle!" she blurted. "I thought you knew what you were doing. I can't believe you actually had to perform a guinea-pig test on someone."
"More like 'guinea cat'," ventured Maureen, and she and Frida both giggled. Maureen's parents cleared their throats meaningfully, and both girls subsided, turning pink.
"It's no laughing matter, Frida," Julie chided in her turn. "Who knows what'll happen to poor Leslie out there! Do you think we have any hope of finding her, uncle? Especially in this storm."
"Leslie does not like thunderstorms," Frida informed her.
"Figures," Julie commented, shooting her godfather a dark look. "Of all the nights to test this thing, you had to do it on a night when a storm's coming. You really ought to be ashamed..."
"Sir," Lawrence cut indignantly into her tirade. "Are you going to simply stand there and take this...this dressing-down she's giving you?"
Roarke sighed; he'd lost track of how many times he'd done that this evening. "Never mind, Lawrence," he said quietly but firmly. "You aren't completely innocent yourself." He fixed Lawrence with a particular look, just long enough to make the Englishman shift his weight uncomfortably; then he took in the group as a whole. "Very well. There are enough cars for us to search in three groups. Julie, you take the girls; Mr. and Mrs. Tomai may take another car; and Lawrence and I will take the third. And here is a little something that might tempt Leslie." Roarke pulled open a desk drawer and extracted a package of cat treats, making everyone wonder how he happened to so conveniently have such an item stashed away there. Opening the package, he shook a few morsels into each searcher's hands, then nodded. "Good luck, everyone."
They split into their designated groups and set off in different directions. Julie, driving the car with Frida riding shotgun and Maureen in the middle seat leaning over the back of the front seat, shook her head as she maneuvered the car along the coastal road known across the island as the Ring Road. "I just can't believe uncle would do something so dangerous," she railed. "I can't believe he had to. I always thought he knew exactly what to do to bring a fantasy to life, no matter how off-the-wall it was. And now it turns out he's endangered Leslie by forcing her to be his test subject! Whoever requested that stupid fantasy, I hope uncle turns him down."
"Huh," Maureen said with a grin. "I'd think it'd be more of a punishment to make the person go through with the fantasy."
Julie met her gaze in the rearview mirror long enough to make a face and then let out a reluctant laugh. "You could be right," she said. "I just don't want to see uncle getting sued."
"That is why he is testing the potion," Frida pointed out sensibly. "If something happens to Leslie, it is a bad thing, but Mr. Roarke can help her. Then he can also tell the guest he cannot have his fantasy."
"Good thinking, Frida," Maureen said. "So, well, there you go, Julie. There's no point in having a fit about it now that it's done. We just need to keep an eye out for a Siamese cat."
§ § §
It had finally started raining, and now every leaf in sight was shedding water in bucketfuls. In the meager shelter of an oversized leaf, a little Siamese cat huddled in misery, staring out at the rain and cringing every time lightning flashed. But the worst of the storm was already beginning to move away from the island, and soon the cat settled down enough to try to lick some of the mud and excess rainwater from her paws. She had walked gingerly along for some time after falling out of the palm tree, but she wasn't really hurt and now had a chance to rest and look around.
Then, somewhere in the distance, there came the faint sound of human voices calling. "Leslie! Leslie! Where are you?" And once, "Come, kitty, come along, puss..." That one triggered some half-buried memory in the feline brain, and the cat leaped back out into the rain and fled till she could hear the voices no more.
§ § §
After three hours of fruitless searching, the group gathered at the main house, all of them disheartened to report that no one had found the missing cat. Roarke again thanked Julie, Frida and the Tomais for their help in the search and sent them all home for the night. Lawrence drove them back, and when he returned to the main house he saw Roarke staring at the cascading rain.
"It's positively pouring out, sir," he said.
"Yes, unfortunately," Roarke agreed heavily. "I suggest that the best we can do is to hope she found shelter for the night, and get some sleep ourselves. Tomorrow morning we can resume the search."
"The fantasies, sir?" Lawrence began.
Roarke frowned. "They will be taken care of," he said curtly. "Go and get some sleep."
Lawrence nodded and murmured, "Good night, sir," turning and leaving the study slowly. Roarke waited till he heard the door close before allowing his distress to show. In spite of himself, he felt guilty. Logically, he knew it was necessary to test the potion, but Leslie had been so reluctant to be the subject of said test that he had begun to wonder if she, and everyone else who had balked at trying the potion, knew something he didn't. By the time Roarke could bring himself to close the French doors, douse the light and go to bed, he had decided he had no choice but to inform J. Anderson Rollins that the fantasy was ungrantable and return the tycoon's money. Trying to fulfill a rich man's every wish was hardly worth his worry over his daughter.
Meantime, Lawrence opened a huge black umbrella and strolled slowly through the heavy rain toward his cottage, unable to stop himself from thinking hard as well. At first he tried to shrug off his thoughts, but they wouldn't be ignored; finally, he appeased himself by deciding that even if it was still raining like this in the morning, he would go out and resume his search for Leslie. He was chagrined to realize that he had a bruised conscience over his baiting remarks when it fell to her to test the potion, and it was the only way he knew to satisfy himself that he had done all he could.
Lawrence returned with Julie and Frida a few minutes before Maureen and her parents arrived; Maureen and Frida greeted each other, and then they all turned to Roarke, who had been standing by the still-open French doors. "Ah," he said, "thank you all for coming."
"Is something wrong, Mr. Roarke?" Romana Tomai asked.
"Where's Leslie?" Maureen put in suddenly.
"Leslie is the reason I have called you here," Roarke said, glanced at Lawrence and then studied the small group. "I must ask you to not let one word of this go beyond this house -- please."
"We give you our word," replied Janos Tomai.
"Very well...thank you," Roarke said, and with that explained to the five newcomers what had happened to Leslie. Startled glances were exchanged, but no one said anything, except for Julie.
"Good Lord, uncle!" she blurted. "I thought you knew what you were doing. I can't believe you actually had to perform a guinea-pig test on someone."
"More like 'guinea cat'," ventured Maureen, and she and Frida both giggled. Maureen's parents cleared their throats meaningfully, and both girls subsided, turning pink.
"It's no laughing matter, Frida," Julie chided in her turn. "Who knows what'll happen to poor Leslie out there! Do you think we have any hope of finding her, uncle? Especially in this storm."
"Leslie does not like thunderstorms," Frida informed her.
"Figures," Julie commented, shooting her godfather a dark look. "Of all the nights to test this thing, you had to do it on a night when a storm's coming. You really ought to be ashamed..."
"Sir," Lawrence cut indignantly into her tirade. "Are you going to simply stand there and take this...this dressing-down she's giving you?"
Roarke sighed; he'd lost track of how many times he'd done that this evening. "Never mind, Lawrence," he said quietly but firmly. "You aren't completely innocent yourself." He fixed Lawrence with a particular look, just long enough to make the Englishman shift his weight uncomfortably; then he took in the group as a whole. "Very well. There are enough cars for us to search in three groups. Julie, you take the girls; Mr. and Mrs. Tomai may take another car; and Lawrence and I will take the third. And here is a little something that might tempt Leslie." Roarke pulled open a desk drawer and extracted a package of cat treats, making everyone wonder how he happened to so conveniently have such an item stashed away there. Opening the package, he shook a few morsels into each searcher's hands, then nodded. "Good luck, everyone."
They split into their designated groups and set off in different directions. Julie, driving the car with Frida riding shotgun and Maureen in the middle seat leaning over the back of the front seat, shook her head as she maneuvered the car along the coastal road known across the island as the Ring Road. "I just can't believe uncle would do something so dangerous," she railed. "I can't believe he had to. I always thought he knew exactly what to do to bring a fantasy to life, no matter how off-the-wall it was. And now it turns out he's endangered Leslie by forcing her to be his test subject! Whoever requested that stupid fantasy, I hope uncle turns him down."
"Huh," Maureen said with a grin. "I'd think it'd be more of a punishment to make the person go through with the fantasy."
Julie met her gaze in the rearview mirror long enough to make a face and then let out a reluctant laugh. "You could be right," she said. "I just don't want to see uncle getting sued."
"That is why he is testing the potion," Frida pointed out sensibly. "If something happens to Leslie, it is a bad thing, but Mr. Roarke can help her. Then he can also tell the guest he cannot have his fantasy."
"Good thinking, Frida," Maureen said. "So, well, there you go, Julie. There's no point in having a fit about it now that it's done. We just need to keep an eye out for a Siamese cat."
§ § §
It had finally started raining, and now every leaf in sight was shedding water in bucketfuls. In the meager shelter of an oversized leaf, a little Siamese cat huddled in misery, staring out at the rain and cringing every time lightning flashed. But the worst of the storm was already beginning to move away from the island, and soon the cat settled down enough to try to lick some of the mud and excess rainwater from her paws. She had walked gingerly along for some time after falling out of the palm tree, but she wasn't really hurt and now had a chance to rest and look around.
Then, somewhere in the distance, there came the faint sound of human voices calling. "Leslie! Leslie! Where are you?" And once, "Come, kitty, come along, puss..." That one triggered some half-buried memory in the feline brain, and the cat leaped back out into the rain and fled till she could hear the voices no more.
§ § §
After three hours of fruitless searching, the group gathered at the main house, all of them disheartened to report that no one had found the missing cat. Roarke again thanked Julie, Frida and the Tomais for their help in the search and sent them all home for the night. Lawrence drove them back, and when he returned to the main house he saw Roarke staring at the cascading rain.
"It's positively pouring out, sir," he said.
"Yes, unfortunately," Roarke agreed heavily. "I suggest that the best we can do is to hope she found shelter for the night, and get some sleep ourselves. Tomorrow morning we can resume the search."
"The fantasies, sir?" Lawrence began.
Roarke frowned. "They will be taken care of," he said curtly. "Go and get some sleep."
Lawrence nodded and murmured, "Good night, sir," turning and leaving the study slowly. Roarke waited till he heard the door close before allowing his distress to show. In spite of himself, he felt guilty. Logically, he knew it was necessary to test the potion, but Leslie had been so reluctant to be the subject of said test that he had begun to wonder if she, and everyone else who had balked at trying the potion, knew something he didn't. By the time Roarke could bring himself to close the French doors, douse the light and go to bed, he had decided he had no choice but to inform J. Anderson Rollins that the fantasy was ungrantable and return the tycoon's money. Trying to fulfill a rich man's every wish was hardly worth his worry over his daughter.
Meantime, Lawrence opened a huge black umbrella and strolled slowly through the heavy rain toward his cottage, unable to stop himself from thinking hard as well. At first he tried to shrug off his thoughts, but they wouldn't be ignored; finally, he appeased himself by deciding that even if it was still raining like this in the morning, he would go out and resume his search for Leslie. He was chagrined to realize that he had a bruised conscience over his baiting remarks when it fell to her to test the potion, and it was the only way he knew to satisfy himself that he had done all he could.