§ § § -- May 7, 1983
Roarke's dark eyes widened. "Why, congratulations, Tattoo!"
Tattoo actually blushed, and looked away again. "We'd be honored if you'd perform the marriage ceremony, boss, and Solange already promised that Leslie can be the maid of honor..." His voice trailed off, and Roarke sensed at that moment that the young Frenchman was holding something back.
"Tattoo, something is wrong, isn't it? I know you're not telling me everything, so out with it," Roarke said, trying to gently tease it out of his assistant.
A pained expression bloomed on Tattoo's features, and he was clearly struggling with the words. "I won't make Solange stop dancing," he said. "That's her whole life. And I'm doing pretty well with my paintings, you know that...and I haven't seen my family in ages." He became aware then that Roarke was watching him expectantly, and finally sighed. "There's no easy way to say it. But you see, when Solange and I are married, I'll be leaving."
Something in Roarke had sensed this coming; but it was a shock to hear it all the same. "Leave Fantasy Island?" he breathed, just above a whisper. Tattoo had been his assistant for something like a quarter-century now, and he had grown so accustomed to Tattoo's presence that it had seemed as though he would always be there. But Roarke could not begrudge his friend the happiness he'd found.
"I hate to do it, boss," Tattoo said. His eyes, while dry, seemed lost in memories. "These have been the best years of my whole life. I've always loved my job here, and no one else in the world has ever been a better friend to me than you. You've always encouraged me and given me the sense that I was worth just as much as any other man. Solange...Solange makes me feel that way too. She sees the me inside...not the me that everyone else sees at first glance. She doesn't see the short guy running around leering at the girls." Tattoo quirked a sheepish smile in response to Roarke's amused expression. "She sees the painter, she sees a human being. She sees my soul."
Roarke leaned forward now in his chair, resting his elbows on the desktop, interlacing his fingers and studying Tattoo with a wistful look. "While I would be very glad to have you stay on, my friend, I want you to know that first and foremost, you must follow your heart. And if your heart takes you with Solange and away from Fantasy Island, then that is how it must be. But don't assume that the best part of your life has come to an end. You're marrying a woman you love very deeply, and perhaps one day you and she will be parents. There is nothing in the world to say that your future can't be any happier than your time on Fantasy Island has been. I wish you and Solange all the happiness you both so richly deserve."
Tattoo swallowed so thickly it sounded clearly in the quiet study. Head hanging, he murmured, "I'm glad you understand, boss. Thank you."
Roarke cast a glance ceilingward and asked gently, "How will you break the news to Leslie?"
Tattoo's head came up all at once, his face startled; clearly he had completely forgotten about Leslie. Since Leslie's arrival on the island, she and Tattoo had grown quite close. They regarded each other rather like a close-knit uncle and niece, and Tattoo had noticed that she seemed actually a little more open with him than she was with Roarke, who still inspired a certain awe in her. "I didn't think of that," Tattoo said slowly. "She's going to be really upset. She told me once that she wanted to stay here on the island forever so that she didn't lose any more people she loved. And now look, I'm planning to leave."
"I daresay Leslie should be able to adjust well enough," Roarke said dryly. "She's almost grown now and about to finish high school. Change is as inevitable here on the island as anywhere else on this earth."
Tattoo shook his head. "It was hard enough telling you. I dread telling Leslie."
Roarke gazed intensely at him. "My friend, if this is your fantasy, then you have every right to have it granted to you. It will be difficult for Leslie to accept in the beginning; she cares deeply for you. I believe she regards you as the uncle she never had. But I truly believe she will understand."
"I hope so," Tattoo said and sighed again. "I suppose on that note, I'd better get home."
Roarke nodded and arose from his desk. "I may as well retire myself." He watched Tattoo trudge for the door, looking surprisingly dispirited for a man who was preparing to marry the love of his life, and smiled slightly. "She will understand, my friend, trust me," he said.
Tattoo glanced back at him and nodded once. "Good night, boss."
§ § § -- May 8, 1983
Leslie came downstairs about nine-thirty the next morning, and to her surprise found something of a crowd in the study. Roarke was seated at the desk; Julie MacNabb and Solange each sat in a club chair; and Tattoo stood beside Solange's chair. They were all clearly involved in a lively discussion.
"Is this a private party, or am I invited too?" Leslie asked with a grin, pausing at the foot of the stairs.
Their reactions were distinctly unusual, to say the least. As one, all four of them whipped their heads around to stare at her; even Roarke looked a bit startled. Then, as if cued, they chorused much too brightly, "Good morning, Leslie!"
She laughed. "Did I scare you? What's the big congregation all about, anyway?"
Solange and Tattoo looked at each other; Julie shifted in her seat, her overly expressive young face a study in discomfort. Roarke's features had returned to their usual calm, although he seemed quite solemn.
The silence stretched and Leslie frowned in apprehension. Solange watched Tattoo; Roarke watched all of them; Julie turned red; and Tattoo fidgeted to the point that he appeared to have a nervous tic.
"Something's going on," Leslie said, her tone stating that she wanted to be in on whatever it was, without further delay.
"It won't get any easier for waiting, mon chér," Solange told Tattoo gently.
"She's right, my friend," Roarke concurred with an encouraging smile.
Julie suddenly cleared her throat so loudly that the others all stared at her. She blinked, wrapped a hand around her throat and said, "I think this is where I bow out. Nobody needs me for anything else, right? So I better get back and start helping Frida with housekeeping duties." Her voice cracked toward the end of this rapid little speech, so that the phrase housekeeping duties came out as a pained-sounding croak. "Ow," Julie muttered and made herself scarce before anyone could stop her.
"I think she tore her throat out from clearing it," Leslie remarked a little sardonically, taking Julie's vacated chair. "There's something you guys aren't telling me, and I want to know, because it doesn't look like it's going to be good news and I just want to get it over with."
"But it is good news," Roarke said. "Why don't you tell her, Tattoo? As for myself, I have some duties to attend to. Tattoo, Solange." With a nod at them, he exited.
Tattoo shot a pleading glance at Solange, and she smiled, as though taking pity on him. "Mr. Roarke's right, Leslie. It's definitely good news. Tattoo and I are going to be married."
Leslie's features lit up like a neon sign. "Really?" she squealed. "Oh wow, that's fantastic! Now it'll be like I have an aunt too!" She lunged out of her chair to bestow a hug on the surprised Solange, who laughed and hugged her back. Leslie then turned to hug Tattoo as well, but he stepped back and refused to meet her gaze.
Leslie planted her hands on her hips and glared impatiently at him. "I wish you'd just tell me what's wrong," she said. "This feels like a good-news-bad-news situation, and now it's time for the bad news, right?"
Finally Tattoo looked up at her. "Sit down, Leslie, please," he requested painfully. "I don't know how else to tell you, so I guess I should say it straight out. Leslie, when Solange and I are married, I'm leaving Fantasy Island, to live with her in Paris." Having spoken, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned toward Solange, who wrapped her hand around his in reassurance.
The news, so bluntly delivered, stunned Leslie into utter silence for what seemed like the rest of the day. Solange gazed at her with enormous sympathy; as Leslie struggled to absorb this, her speechlessness stretched out long enough that Tattoo risked glancing at her. His heart went out to her and he reached out and placed both hands on her forearm. "I'm sorry, Leslie."
"Do...do you really have to leave?" Leslie asked, childlike, tears already filling her eyes. "I had no idea that getting married would make you leave here. I always figured I'd get to babysit your kids someday and you'd still work for Mr. Roarke and..." Her voice gave out.
"I can't," Tattoo said with a soft sigh. "Leslie, Solange is a born dancer, and I can't ever take that away from her. I'd never, ever make her stop doing something she loved so much. She's with the Moulin Rouge classical revival now in Paris, and she's going to be the best one in the show." Behind him, Solange smiled and rolled her eyes. "I love Fantasy Island, you know that. Don't ever think I didn't enjoy my stay here even for a second. The boss has always been the best possible friend in the world. And you..." Tattoo's voice broke for a moment; he cleared his throat and plowed doggedly on. "I think of you as my adopted niece. If you ever do leave Fantasy Island, I want you to know you will always, always be welcome in our home. If a day comes that you have nowhere else to go on this earth, come to us, and we'll take you in, I promise you that."
"That goes for me too, Leslie," Solange said softly. "You'll always have a home with us if you ever need it."
Without warning Leslie broke down into tears, and Solange and Tattoo shed a few of their own. After a few moments of indulging themselves, Tattoo managed to get control over his emotions and gently prodded Leslie in the arm with one blunt finger. "Come on, Leslie, that's enough now." He smiled slyly when she lifted a tear-streaked face to him. "I had no idea the thought of living in Paris meant that much to you."
"In that case, you're just going to have to be patient with me when you teach me to speak French," Leslie shot back unexpectedly, and they all laughed, a little shakily, but relieved that the worst was over now. "So what was Julie doing over here?"
"She'll be catering the wedding," Solange told her. "Tattoo and I had dinner last evening at her bed-and-breakfast inn, and that girl is an amazing cook for one so young. That's what decided us to have her cater the whole affair. And Leslie, I want you to be my maid of honor. I don't have any sisters, and I'm not very close to any of the friends I have in the dance company. Since I'm taking Tattoo away from here, I thought it was only fair that you have a part in the wedding and not be left out."
"Don't say it like that," Leslie protested, raking her hair back from her face. "You'll come back to visit, won't you, if you can? And maybe one of these days I'll come visit you in Paris. And I know you'll stay in touch." She affected an exaggerated scowl. "You better, or I'll come beat you both up."
"A fate worse than death for sure," Tattoo retorted with a grin. "So are you gonna be in the wedding or not?"
"Well, how could I pass up an elegant invitation like that?" Leslie teased him back. "Of course I will. When's the big day going to be?"
"Next weekend," Solange said and giggled when Leslie's blue eyes popped. "I know, it's very short notice. But we don't want to wait another moment to be married. Tattoo has a wonderful idea about opening an art gallery where he can sell his paintings, and maybe those of other artists who are just starting out once it gets up and running. Mr. Roarke's performing the ceremony, and we've even arranged to have Tattoo's cousin Hugo flown out here so he can be the best man."
Leslie focused on Tattoo and slowly grinned. "So Mr. Roarke and I finally get to meet the famous cousin Hugo," she said. "Does Mr. Roarke know about this?"
"It could have been worse," Tattoo said. "My only other choice was Chester the Chimp." Amid the groans from Solange and Leslie, he grinned broadly. "Come on, let's go talk to Julie and see if she's any good with French recipes."
Roarke's dark eyes widened. "Why, congratulations, Tattoo!"
Tattoo actually blushed, and looked away again. "We'd be honored if you'd perform the marriage ceremony, boss, and Solange already promised that Leslie can be the maid of honor..." His voice trailed off, and Roarke sensed at that moment that the young Frenchman was holding something back.
"Tattoo, something is wrong, isn't it? I know you're not telling me everything, so out with it," Roarke said, trying to gently tease it out of his assistant.
A pained expression bloomed on Tattoo's features, and he was clearly struggling with the words. "I won't make Solange stop dancing," he said. "That's her whole life. And I'm doing pretty well with my paintings, you know that...and I haven't seen my family in ages." He became aware then that Roarke was watching him expectantly, and finally sighed. "There's no easy way to say it. But you see, when Solange and I are married, I'll be leaving."
Something in Roarke had sensed this coming; but it was a shock to hear it all the same. "Leave Fantasy Island?" he breathed, just above a whisper. Tattoo had been his assistant for something like a quarter-century now, and he had grown so accustomed to Tattoo's presence that it had seemed as though he would always be there. But Roarke could not begrudge his friend the happiness he'd found.
"I hate to do it, boss," Tattoo said. His eyes, while dry, seemed lost in memories. "These have been the best years of my whole life. I've always loved my job here, and no one else in the world has ever been a better friend to me than you. You've always encouraged me and given me the sense that I was worth just as much as any other man. Solange...Solange makes me feel that way too. She sees the me inside...not the me that everyone else sees at first glance. She doesn't see the short guy running around leering at the girls." Tattoo quirked a sheepish smile in response to Roarke's amused expression. "She sees the painter, she sees a human being. She sees my soul."
Roarke leaned forward now in his chair, resting his elbows on the desktop, interlacing his fingers and studying Tattoo with a wistful look. "While I would be very glad to have you stay on, my friend, I want you to know that first and foremost, you must follow your heart. And if your heart takes you with Solange and away from Fantasy Island, then that is how it must be. But don't assume that the best part of your life has come to an end. You're marrying a woman you love very deeply, and perhaps one day you and she will be parents. There is nothing in the world to say that your future can't be any happier than your time on Fantasy Island has been. I wish you and Solange all the happiness you both so richly deserve."
Tattoo swallowed so thickly it sounded clearly in the quiet study. Head hanging, he murmured, "I'm glad you understand, boss. Thank you."
Roarke cast a glance ceilingward and asked gently, "How will you break the news to Leslie?"
Tattoo's head came up all at once, his face startled; clearly he had completely forgotten about Leslie. Since Leslie's arrival on the island, she and Tattoo had grown quite close. They regarded each other rather like a close-knit uncle and niece, and Tattoo had noticed that she seemed actually a little more open with him than she was with Roarke, who still inspired a certain awe in her. "I didn't think of that," Tattoo said slowly. "She's going to be really upset. She told me once that she wanted to stay here on the island forever so that she didn't lose any more people she loved. And now look, I'm planning to leave."
"I daresay Leslie should be able to adjust well enough," Roarke said dryly. "She's almost grown now and about to finish high school. Change is as inevitable here on the island as anywhere else on this earth."
Tattoo shook his head. "It was hard enough telling you. I dread telling Leslie."
Roarke gazed intensely at him. "My friend, if this is your fantasy, then you have every right to have it granted to you. It will be difficult for Leslie to accept in the beginning; she cares deeply for you. I believe she regards you as the uncle she never had. But I truly believe she will understand."
"I hope so," Tattoo said and sighed again. "I suppose on that note, I'd better get home."
Roarke nodded and arose from his desk. "I may as well retire myself." He watched Tattoo trudge for the door, looking surprisingly dispirited for a man who was preparing to marry the love of his life, and smiled slightly. "She will understand, my friend, trust me," he said.
Tattoo glanced back at him and nodded once. "Good night, boss."
§ § § -- May 8, 1983
Leslie came downstairs about nine-thirty the next morning, and to her surprise found something of a crowd in the study. Roarke was seated at the desk; Julie MacNabb and Solange each sat in a club chair; and Tattoo stood beside Solange's chair. They were all clearly involved in a lively discussion.
"Is this a private party, or am I invited too?" Leslie asked with a grin, pausing at the foot of the stairs.
Their reactions were distinctly unusual, to say the least. As one, all four of them whipped their heads around to stare at her; even Roarke looked a bit startled. Then, as if cued, they chorused much too brightly, "Good morning, Leslie!"
She laughed. "Did I scare you? What's the big congregation all about, anyway?"
Solange and Tattoo looked at each other; Julie shifted in her seat, her overly expressive young face a study in discomfort. Roarke's features had returned to their usual calm, although he seemed quite solemn.
The silence stretched and Leslie frowned in apprehension. Solange watched Tattoo; Roarke watched all of them; Julie turned red; and Tattoo fidgeted to the point that he appeared to have a nervous tic.
"Something's going on," Leslie said, her tone stating that she wanted to be in on whatever it was, without further delay.
"It won't get any easier for waiting, mon chér," Solange told Tattoo gently.
"She's right, my friend," Roarke concurred with an encouraging smile.
Julie suddenly cleared her throat so loudly that the others all stared at her. She blinked, wrapped a hand around her throat and said, "I think this is where I bow out. Nobody needs me for anything else, right? So I better get back and start helping Frida with housekeeping duties." Her voice cracked toward the end of this rapid little speech, so that the phrase housekeeping duties came out as a pained-sounding croak. "Ow," Julie muttered and made herself scarce before anyone could stop her.
"I think she tore her throat out from clearing it," Leslie remarked a little sardonically, taking Julie's vacated chair. "There's something you guys aren't telling me, and I want to know, because it doesn't look like it's going to be good news and I just want to get it over with."
"But it is good news," Roarke said. "Why don't you tell her, Tattoo? As for myself, I have some duties to attend to. Tattoo, Solange." With a nod at them, he exited.
Tattoo shot a pleading glance at Solange, and she smiled, as though taking pity on him. "Mr. Roarke's right, Leslie. It's definitely good news. Tattoo and I are going to be married."
Leslie's features lit up like a neon sign. "Really?" she squealed. "Oh wow, that's fantastic! Now it'll be like I have an aunt too!" She lunged out of her chair to bestow a hug on the surprised Solange, who laughed and hugged her back. Leslie then turned to hug Tattoo as well, but he stepped back and refused to meet her gaze.
Leslie planted her hands on her hips and glared impatiently at him. "I wish you'd just tell me what's wrong," she said. "This feels like a good-news-bad-news situation, and now it's time for the bad news, right?"
Finally Tattoo looked up at her. "Sit down, Leslie, please," he requested painfully. "I don't know how else to tell you, so I guess I should say it straight out. Leslie, when Solange and I are married, I'm leaving Fantasy Island, to live with her in Paris." Having spoken, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned toward Solange, who wrapped her hand around his in reassurance.
The news, so bluntly delivered, stunned Leslie into utter silence for what seemed like the rest of the day. Solange gazed at her with enormous sympathy; as Leslie struggled to absorb this, her speechlessness stretched out long enough that Tattoo risked glancing at her. His heart went out to her and he reached out and placed both hands on her forearm. "I'm sorry, Leslie."
"Do...do you really have to leave?" Leslie asked, childlike, tears already filling her eyes. "I had no idea that getting married would make you leave here. I always figured I'd get to babysit your kids someday and you'd still work for Mr. Roarke and..." Her voice gave out.
"I can't," Tattoo said with a soft sigh. "Leslie, Solange is a born dancer, and I can't ever take that away from her. I'd never, ever make her stop doing something she loved so much. She's with the Moulin Rouge classical revival now in Paris, and she's going to be the best one in the show." Behind him, Solange smiled and rolled her eyes. "I love Fantasy Island, you know that. Don't ever think I didn't enjoy my stay here even for a second. The boss has always been the best possible friend in the world. And you..." Tattoo's voice broke for a moment; he cleared his throat and plowed doggedly on. "I think of you as my adopted niece. If you ever do leave Fantasy Island, I want you to know you will always, always be welcome in our home. If a day comes that you have nowhere else to go on this earth, come to us, and we'll take you in, I promise you that."
"That goes for me too, Leslie," Solange said softly. "You'll always have a home with us if you ever need it."
Without warning Leslie broke down into tears, and Solange and Tattoo shed a few of their own. After a few moments of indulging themselves, Tattoo managed to get control over his emotions and gently prodded Leslie in the arm with one blunt finger. "Come on, Leslie, that's enough now." He smiled slyly when she lifted a tear-streaked face to him. "I had no idea the thought of living in Paris meant that much to you."
"In that case, you're just going to have to be patient with me when you teach me to speak French," Leslie shot back unexpectedly, and they all laughed, a little shakily, but relieved that the worst was over now. "So what was Julie doing over here?"
"She'll be catering the wedding," Solange told her. "Tattoo and I had dinner last evening at her bed-and-breakfast inn, and that girl is an amazing cook for one so young. That's what decided us to have her cater the whole affair. And Leslie, I want you to be my maid of honor. I don't have any sisters, and I'm not very close to any of the friends I have in the dance company. Since I'm taking Tattoo away from here, I thought it was only fair that you have a part in the wedding and not be left out."
"Don't say it like that," Leslie protested, raking her hair back from her face. "You'll come back to visit, won't you, if you can? And maybe one of these days I'll come visit you in Paris. And I know you'll stay in touch." She affected an exaggerated scowl. "You better, or I'll come beat you both up."
"A fate worse than death for sure," Tattoo retorted with a grin. "So are you gonna be in the wedding or not?"
"Well, how could I pass up an elegant invitation like that?" Leslie teased him back. "Of course I will. When's the big day going to be?"
"Next weekend," Solange said and giggled when Leslie's blue eyes popped. "I know, it's very short notice. But we don't want to wait another moment to be married. Tattoo has a wonderful idea about opening an art gallery where he can sell his paintings, and maybe those of other artists who are just starting out once it gets up and running. Mr. Roarke's performing the ceremony, and we've even arranged to have Tattoo's cousin Hugo flown out here so he can be the best man."
Leslie focused on Tattoo and slowly grinned. "So Mr. Roarke and I finally get to meet the famous cousin Hugo," she said. "Does Mr. Roarke know about this?"
"It could have been worse," Tattoo said. "My only other choice was Chester the Chimp." Amid the groans from Solange and Leslie, he grinned broadly. "Come on, let's go talk to Julie and see if she's any good with French recipes."