§ § § -- April 28, 1984
At the luau that evening, Leslie saw Frida Olsson for the first time in quite some time. Both girls had been so busy with their respective jobs that they rarely found chances to get together; so when they met at the luau, they took the opportunity to get caught up. Frida's pretty face was a study in animation this evening. "Leslie, I am going home to Sweden soon!"
"Are you?" Leslie exclaimed, glad for Frida but knowing she would miss her Swedish friend dearly when she was gone. "When do you plan to leave?"
"It's not so soon as you think," Frida said and smiled. "I go home in August so that I can begin school in Stockholm. I want to become a clothing designer. Not only for famous people, but for everyone, so that all people can afford to buy the things I make. You know I have been so homesick in a long time. Now I count the days until I go home again. There are places to live at the school I want to go into, so I don't have to worry about where I should live."
"That's really great," Leslie said warmly. "Of course, you know I'll miss you when you leave, so I hope you're planning to write and stay in touch with us."
Frida laughed. "Julie has already told me I must write to her or else she will follow me to Sweden and visit me for weeks until I am sick of her." Both girls giggled. "If you don't get a letter from me in a long time, it means only that I am very busy and I will write again when I have a chance. But I think it's time for me to go home now. All year I have worked for Julie and saved the money to go home again, enough that I can have something to stay alive while I am looking for a job that will help me to buy food and schoolbooks and other things." Her face softened with memory. "Julie has been so generous to me, I can't hope to repay her for her kindness. And Mr. Roarke was kind also, to give me a place to stay until I am old enough to go on my own." She focused on Leslie. "You helped me, do you know that? You were the first person on this island who spoke to me, and you were kind, and you made me decide that perhaps it would be all right if I trusted you that first day. My life would have been so different if you had not been here and told me all about Mr. Roarke."
"I'm just glad we could help," Leslie said softly. "And I'm glad you're going to be happy, Frida. I know you're looking forward to leaving, but we're going to miss you so much..."
"Ah, there you two are," said a new voice, and Julie MacNabb dropped into another chair beside them. "I suppose Frida's told you her news, Leslie."
Leslie nodded. "I bet your house is going to seem empty after she leaves."
"Are you kidding?" Julie hooted. "With all those people going in and out and gobbling down every scrap of food in my house, and every single guest constantly asking where the pool is or how to get to the main house or what it costs to rent a bike or go horseback riding, or what time the luau starts?" She blew out a loud, gusty breath, fell back in her chair and then stared wistfully at Frida. "Yeah, the place is gonna be an absolute tomb."
Before any of them could say any more, Leslie caught a movement at a nearby table and turned to see what it was. She was thoroughly surprised to recognize Janine Andrulaitis, hunched over a book that was laid out flat in front of her, reading with so much concentration that a nearby plate of fruit sat utterly forgotten. Julie and Frida followed her gaze, and Julie blinked. "Hey, isn't that Janine Andrulaitis, that famous new author?"
Leslie nodded. "She's one of our guests, actually. Maybe I better see if she's okay."
"Who reads at a luau?" Julie asked. "And what's she reading?"
Leslie squinted at Janine and realized the young author was avidly reading her own book. Perplexed, Leslie got up, making a quick excuse to Julie and Frida, and approached Janine a little hesitantly. "Excuse me, Miss Andrulaitis? Aren't you supposed to be enjoying the luau?"
Janine looked up sharply, then relaxed upon recognizing Leslie. "Oh, hi there, Leslie. Well, I tried to have a good time, but my mind's too full of that jerk and his lawyer. I've been going over my book just to see if I noticed anything different from what was in the manuscript I sent to Mr. Roarke. I mean, there aren't too many books that make it to publication without some pretty heavy renovating by either the author or the editor."
Leslie nodded. "I see," she said. "Mind if I sit down?"
"Go ahead," Janine invited, and Leslie took a chair. From the next table, Julie and Frida watched with interest.
"So," Leslie said after settling herself, "have you found anything different yet?"
"Oh, some stuff I thought was pretty darn good got left out," Janine admitted a little sheepishly, "but that's common to every writer. You write a sentence that you think is a piece of sheer genius and is destined to become a classic line that gets quoted as a cliché a century from now, the way people do with Shakespeare. But then some editor comes along, tells you it's too wordy or unnecessary to the story or just plain garbage, and snips it out. And there goes the immortality you were dreaming of." She grinned, and Leslie laughed softly.
"I can understand that," she remarked, "even though I'm not a writer. But it's like Mr. Roarke said. You need to relax and try to get your mind off this whole problem for awhile. If you don't give it a rest, you're going to be too worn out -- and maybe too discouraged -- to stand up to that guy and his lawyer. Tell you what, why don't you let me have the book for now. Have some of this fruit here, and make sure you watch the hula and the guys who do the tricks with fire. They put on a terrific show."
Janine hesitated for a long moment, considering the situation; then she seemed to give up, heaved a great sigh and clapped the book shut, pushing it across the table at Leslie. "Okay, you win. I'll force myself to have a good time." Leslie laughed again and picked up the book, getting to her feet.
"It'll be worth it, and you'll feel better," Leslie promised. "We'll see you tomorrow at the main house, okay?" She waited for Janine's nod, then smiled and headed back to the table where Julie and Frida still sat.
"Nice work there," Julie complimented her. "What problem does she have?"
Leslie explained about the plagiarism accusation Janine had been hit with, and displayed the book at Julie and Frida. "Mr. Roarke still has the original manuscript, which Lawrence and I both read. I think I'm going to do some detective work. Julie, if Mr. Roarke's looking for me, tell him I went back to the main house and why. I'll call you tomorrow if you're free, Frida."
"I will have some free time in the afternoon," Frida said. "I hope you find a solution to that poor lady's problem. To have such a dream come true, and then see a man come and spoil it for her. How sad. Lycka till, Leslie."
"Tack, Frida," Leslie replied in her friend's native language.
"Which means what?" Julie asked expectantly.
"She wished me good luck, and I thanked her," Leslie told her and grinned. "See you two later on."
She wound her way along the forest paths, which after four years on the island she could have navigated in her sleep, till she emerged into the clearing beside the main house. The moon silvered the water in the fountain and painted a gleaming path on the duck pond across the lane from the house, and she paused to study the sight for a moment. The call of some exotic tropical bird -- three two-part rising notes, then two sad laments followed by a shuddering cry -- lent an additional layer of mysticism to the warm spring night. Leslie smiled and trotted up the steps, crossed the porch and let herself into the house, only to encounter Lawrence standing beside Roarke's desk, chatting animatedly with someone on the phone.
"Surely," Lawrence was saying, "you have nothing better to do, Adam?...Well, then, why don't you think about it? I'm not scheduled to leave here for another month, so that gives you some time to decide." He pronounced "scheduled" in the British way, with a sh sound. "The working conditions here are unsurpassed, and Mr. Roarke is one of the better supervisors I've known." He took a breath to continue, but stopped abruptly, and Leslie assumed he had been interrupted; this was borne out when his face took on an expression of consternation. "The reason I'm leaving has nothing to do with this. Really, Adam, you do try my patience at times. I was certain you'd leap at this opportunity, and instead you're using every argument in the book against coming. Truly, ever since you found that lep --" At that exact moment he spotted Leslie standing atop the foyer steps, listening in unabashedly, and cut himself off, clearing his throat loudly. "I'm afraid I must hang up for now. But I strongly advise that you give this chance some serious consideration. You may never have such an opportunity come your way again, no matter how good your past luck has been. Goodbye, Adam." He hung up without waiting for a reply.
"What was that all about?" Leslie asked mildly, taking the steps down into the office proper.
"Just a little chat with a friend," Lawrence evaded. "What are you doing back here so early? Has Mr. Roarke come back with you?"
"He doesn't know I'm here," Leslie said. "I've got a bit of a hunch, and I need to follow it before it gets away from me. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."
"Nothing at all," said Lawrence, sounding a little strained. "Nothing worth wasting your time over, at any rate. I believe I shall look in on the luau. Good luck with your hunch, miss."
"Thanks," Leslie said and watched him leave through the open French doors behind the desk. Then she sat in Roarke's chair, glanced around the desk and was relieved to see that the manuscript Janine had sent him lay in plain sight among some folders and loose sheets of letterhead used for letters of acceptance to hopeful fantasizers. She picked up the manuscript, opened the book, and began comparing pages in each respective work. Janine's remark about the possibility of something being left out of the published book had given her the spark of an idea, and if it panned out, she and Roarke might be able to use the results to help Janine win her case against Henry Charles March.