§ § § -- April 28, 1984

There was already a line in front of the bookstore when Leslie drove Janine into the village, which made her decide to park in the back of the small strip mall where the shop was located so that she could sneak Janine into the employee entrance. Janine stared at the queue as they passed the shop. "Are all those people waiting for me?"

"Yup, that's your adoring public," Leslie said, grinning. "I'll take you into the back so you don't get mobbed. Hope your signing hand's in good shape."

Janine blinked and suddenly smiled, looking misty-eyed. "Tell Mr. Roarke from me that he sure does a great job," she said, and Leslie's grin softened into an appreciative smile.

"I'll be sure to do that," she promised. "Come this way." She parked and then led Janine to the employee entrance, where she rang a bell and introduced Janine to the young woman who answered.

"Oh gosh, you're Janine Andrulaitis!" the clerk blurted excitedly. "I hope you'll sign my copy of your book too. There must be three dozen people already waiting for us to open so they can get their copies signed. What a great book -- I just couldn't stop reading, and it was way past my bedtime before I finally finished it."

"Thanks," murmured Janine, turning red, but clearly thrilled with the effusive praise.

Leslie followed Janine and the clerk through the storeroom and into the shop, down one of the aisles, to a table on which sat several stacks of hardcover books. Since Janine hadn't seen her own book yet, she promptly gave in to her curiosity and grabbed a copy off the top of the nearest stack to stare at it. The jacket was done up in bright green with the title, Road to Kingdom Come, stamped across the top and her own name at the bottom in elegant gold script. Wonderingly Janine fingered the raised letters of her name and then looked at Leslie. "This was worth every penny of the price of this fantasy," she said softly. She studied the jacket once more, then looked up with a huge grin and exclaimed, "Bring 'em on! I'm ready to sign every book on this table and then some!"

Leslie and the store employees laughed, and one went to unlock the door while Leslie retreated into the aisle and waited long enough to watch Janine happily signing her name in one book after another. The store manager approached Leslie and asked, "Are you staying, Miss Leslie, or will someone be around to pick up the author? She's supposed to stay only two hours."

"Right," said Leslie, "and then she's headed straight for another book signing on the other side of the island. I need to check in with Mr. Roarke, but I'll be back in time to pick her up. Try not to let her get writer's cramp." She grinned, and the manager chuckled.

"We'll take good care of her," he promised. "See you in a couple of hours, then."

Leslie exited the store the same way she had come in and drove back to the main house, where Roarke was in the midst of some paperwork. "Where's Lawrence?" Leslie asked.

"Hm? Oh, he said he had somewhere to go," Roarke murmured absently, without looking up. Leslie shrugged and took her usual chair beside the desk. She had spent a lot of time studying there whenever she had weekend homework during her school years, and it had eventually become "her spot" in Roarke's office. She had brought back a copy of Janine's book with her, and spent a few minutes reading the author bio printed on the back jacket flap beneath a photo of Janine. Before she had finished, the door opened and Lawrence came in, looking as pale as he had earlier in the morning and clutching an airmail envelope in one hand.

Leslie looked up, but Lawrence's gaze was fixed on Roarke, who was so absorbed in his current task that he didn't seem to be aware Lawrence was there. Only when the silence had grown unnaturally long did Roarke finally lift his gaze. At first he looked inquisitive; then he took in Lawrence's odd expression and frowned in concern. "Lawrence, I'm beginning to think it's time for you to pay a visit to the doctor," he remarked.

"I don't understand, sir," Lawrence began, then seemed to realize what Roarke meant. "Oh, actually, sir, I wished to speak with you, if I could. It's a rather...urgent matter."

Roarke nodded and gestured to a chair, gathering the papers he had been working with and knocking them into a tidy stack. "By all means, please sit down," he said, setting aside the papers. "What can we do to help?"

Lawrence cleared his throat noisily and settled into the indicated chair, fumbling with the envelope. "I received this last Tuesday," he began, displaying it at Roarke and Leslie. "It comes from England. Cornwall, to be precise. My favorite part of England. I was born and raised there, and I quite miss it. The mists, the moors, the -- "

At that moment the door opened and Julie entered. "Hi, uncle, I just brought over the list of rooms for..." She stopped mid-speech and mid-step when she realized that Roarke, Lawrence and Leslie appeared to be in conference. "Oops, sorry. Looks like I'm interrupting something. Why don't I just come back later?"

"Oh, no, as a matter of fact, this may interest you, Miss Julie," Lawrence blurted out hurriedly. "This letter came to me today from your relatives, Niles and Eileen MacNabb."

"No kidding, really?" asked Julie with interest, handing her godfather a sheet of paper. "I haven't seen them in ages!" Her face lit with some memory and she grinned broadly. "That traveling magic show Delphine used to work for took us to England when I was about fifteen, and we stayed with them for a few days. Old Zachariah tried to talk them into joining the troupe, but they thought he was the scruffiest-looking old coot they ever saw. They even made him sleep in the hayloft!" Everyone laughed, Lawrence a little too loudly. "So what did Niles and Eileen have to say?"

Lawrence looked curiously relieved, and without further ado commenced to extract the letter from its envelope, shake it open and read from it. " 'I do hope this letter finds you well. I must say, we had the devil of a time tracking you down. We learned only two months ago that Moira had passed on, and as we are in need of a butler, we immediately thought of you. Unfortunately, no one seemed to know where you were. We were forced at last to contact Moira's daughter Bláthnaid, which was no mean feat in itself. It seems she has hidden herself away in some great ruin of a castle in the Outer Hebrides, and it was all we could do to contact her. We have been in great need of a good butler for some time, as our last one announced that he could no longer tolerate conditions here. I admit the place has been rather untidy of late, but if Niles could only be bothered to levitate his belongings back into place when he has finished with them... Ah, but that's another matter. We hope you might be tempted to return to dear old England, although I'm sure it would be very difficult for you to leave a plummy job in a place like Fantasy Island! I don't think we can offer much to match that! But nevertheless, please do consider joining our happy home.' "

Julie laughed. "Wow, they must've really been desperate if they went so far as to contact Bláthnaid."

"Blanna?" asked Leslie tentatively, trying out the name.

Julie grinned at her and spelled it. "It's an old Irish name. Anyway, Bláthnaid's one of those easily irritated types who can't seem to stand people and makes it a point to stay as far away from civilization as she can get. And when she loses her temper, they can hear her from one end of Great Britain to the other." She shook her head at another memory. "I met her only once when we visited the Dobsons, but once was enough."

"So," Roarke broke in when it seemed as if Lawrence would have happily allowed Julie to continue blathering on about her wide assortment of eccentric relatives, "what you're saying, Lawrence, is that you are considering taking the position in England, then?"

Lawrence seemed to droop in his chair, but there was a sense of profound relief about him all of a sudden. "Yes, sir, that's what I was getting around to explaining. It seems the perfect position, and I miss Cornwall, of course, and the MacNabbs are wonderful to work for." He sat up straight, realizing what he had just said, and stared at Roarke in alarm. "Not that you haven't been wonderful to work for as well, sir..."

Roarke smiled. "I understand, Lawrence. I can see this would mean a great deal to you. We'll certainly miss you around here; but if you truly wish to accept the position, then by all means do so. I will be glad to give you a reference."

Lawrence nodded and sank back in his chair with a big smile. "I would be most grateful, sir. I won't leave right away, of course. The MacNabbs would like me to begin work on the first of June, and I know the busy season is probably about to begin..."

"There's no such thing as a 'busy season' here," Leslie said. "Every season is busy."

Roarke chuckled. "Indeed so. I appreciate your coming to me and explaining the situation, Lawrence. It appears I'll have to draft another advertisement."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself about that, sir," Lawrence said hastily, beaming. "I know I'm leaving you rather in the lurch, so I'll take on the task of finding a replacement for me. Never fear, sir, I'll find the very best possible candidate. You have my solemn word on that."

Leslie looked very dubious; Roarke raised one eyebrow. Even Julie's expressive face got a skeptical look about it. "You do realize that I must ask you to continue performing your regular duties while you're...uh, interviewing candidates," Roarke said.

"Of course, of course," Lawrence agreed, nodding vigorously and rising from his chair. "It will be no problem at all. I'm so relieved about the outcome. I must rush a letter to the MacNabbs right away and let them know I shall be there on June the first. Thank you so much, sir, and it has been a great honor and privilege working with you." So saying, he all but ran out of the house.

"Did you notice he seems to have miraculously recovered from that stomachache he had this morning?" Leslie asked wryly, staring after him.

Roarke laughed. "Yes, he did seem quite 'in the pink' again, didn't he? I suspect he's been agonizing over that letter ever since he received it. You will remember that he said his malady began last Tuesday, after all. I don't think it had anything whatsoever to do with Mariki's mahimahi."

"Mariki's what?" Julie asked blankly.

"Never mind, Julie," Roarke said, still chuckling. "I suggest that from now on, you keep abreast of the progress Lawrence makes in his search for his own replacement. If he doesn't succeed in finding someone before he leaves for England, you may find yourself facing another very busy summer."

"Just like last year," Julie sighed. "I don't know if you should leave him in charge of finding you a new assistant, uncle. He's likely to turn to my relatives for help, and that could be very...well, let's call it interesting. We'll be lucky if all he digs up is a Cornish pixie or two. My family knows some pretty weird oddballs." With that, she left the house, leaving Roarke and Leslie to contemplate her offhanded remarks.