§ § § -- May 22, 1984

Adam's "love" potion had turned out to be so strong that it kept Leslie unconscious for the rest of Monday and well into Tuesday morning. Since, of course, this prevented her from doing her usual errands and rounds for Roarke in the course of preparing for the upcoming weekend's fantasies, Roarke pressed Adam into service out of necessity. It was probably the only reason he didn't fire Adam right away. As for Lawrence, he maintained the typical British stiff upper lip; but when Leslie finally came back to life shortly before lunchtime on Tuesday and Roarke called a meeting before the meal, the Englishman could no longer conceal his immense disappointment in Adam, not to mention sheer mortification in front of Roarke.

"I admit to gettin' a bit carried away, Mr. Roarke," Adam said sorrowfully, "but y'see, I was so taken wi' yer lass. Perhaps I was too favored wi' the luck o' the Irish, y's'pose? It made me think I could get anythin' I wanted, anytime I wanted. An' now I can see it's not so."

"A shame it took something as serious as this to make you see that," Lawrence said, shaking his head. Turning to Roarke, he said, "If you prefer, sir, I myself shall escort Adam to the charter plane, if you'd only advise me as to when the next one leaves."

Roarke consulted his pocket watch. "As a matter of fact, it leaves in precisely one hour," he said. "You have that long to get your effects together, Mr. O'Cearlach, and be on your way back home." His manner was icy, and neither Lawrence nor Adam could blame him. "On your way out, Lawrence, please stop by Julie's house and have her come here. It looks as if she will have a busy summer after all." Without looking at either of his assistants, he reached for a folder, and Lawrence and Adam took it as a signal of dismissal. They acted upon it, and once they had stepped onto the porch, Lawrence turned to Adam.

"Do you realize what a fool I must look like to Mr. Roarke now, because of you?" Lawrence demanded, about as angry as he ever got. "Perhaps it's as well I'm leaving for England after this coming weekend, because I am not at all certain he'd want me here, simply for showing such bad judgment in persuading him to hire you."

Adam sighed heavily and gave Lawrence a weary stare. "Aye, I understand that. But Lawrence, if ye'll recall, I really didn't want to come here. Better ye should ha' listened to me an' let sleepin' Irishmen lie. Now, since ye're leavin' an' I'm bein' removed in disgrace, what's Mr. Roarke plannin' to do for an assistant?"

"Utilize his goddaughter, I should expect," Lawrence mused, "even though she's every bit as busy with her little inn as Mr. Roarke is with his livelihood." He looked up and focused sharply on Adam. "Thanks to your behavior, I dare not offer to help search for another replacement. He may even decide to release me from this position before my final weekend here. And by God, Adam O'Cearlach, it is entirely and solely your fault. I suggest we hasten ourselves, because I have a strong suspicion that if you miss this charter and Mr. Roarke finds out, you may not leave this island alive."

Fortunately for all involved, Adam did not miss the one-o'-clock charter, and Lawrence breathed a sigh of relief to see the plane soar away into the bright blue sky. Now he had something entirely different to worry about. He made his way back to the main house, where he found Roarke, Julie and Leslie in Roarke's office, waiting for him.

"Thank you for coming, Lawrence," Roarke said. "Did everything go as ordered?"

"Like clockwork, sir," Lawrence assured him before taking a deep breath. "Sir, since I am the one who talked you into hiring Adam, I truly couldn't blame you if you decided to dismiss me before this last weekend. I showed quite poor judgment, and I apologize profusely on Adam's behalf. And especially to you, miss," he added at Leslie, "since you are the one who suffered most from Adam's…shenanigan."

Leslie sighed softly. "It wasn't your fault, Lawrence," she said. "After all, you really believed that overgrown leprechaun was the right man for the job. Lord knows you kept singing his praises to both Mr. Roarke and me for days before he first showed up here."

"He hasn't changed," Lawrence said unhappily. "Still as much the wild child as ever. Once again, Mr. Roarke, I apologize. A thousand times over, I apologize."

Roarke chuckled, as though taking pity on him. "Apologies accepted, Lawrence. And no, I am not dismissing you simply because you misjudged him. I expect you to carry out all your regular duties and to be here this last weekend before we must see you off to England."

"What will you do about getting a new assistant?" Lawrence asked hesitantly.

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other and smiled wryly, at precisely the same moment. "Leave that to me," Roarke said. Those four words were all it took for Lawrence to turn bright red.

Julie sat up straight and offered, "Well then, uncle, since I'm the one who's going to be playing temporary assistant, maybe I should try finding the replacement."

Roarke cleared his throat. "Thank you, Julie, but…that won't be necessary," he said finally.

"Don't you trust me?" Julie asked, looking hurt.

Roarke was clearly at a loss for words, and Leslie simply sat, unwilling to get involved. Lawrence finally grinned and said, "Miss Julie, I suggest you quit while you're ahead. Sir, I'm off to complete my duties. Why don't you come with me, Miss Julie, and I'll advise you on some refinements to your version of bubble and squeak."

Julie twisted around in her seat to stare at him in disbelief. "But you said I did an excellent job!" She jumped out of her chair and advanced on Lawrence, who began to back towards the foyer steps. "I'll have you know I'm a darn good cook, and you yourself said it tasted just like the bubble and squeak your mother used to make. And what's more, I'll bet you every single one of my relatives in England would tell me it tastes like I was born and raised there. Refinements, huh? I'll show you refinements! …" On that argumentative note, Lawrence and Julie departed, and Leslie turned to Roarke, only to see him resting his forehead in both hands as though suffering a headache.

She smiled. "Well, I'm off to do my rounds. Don't worry, Mr. Roarke. Pretty soon our lives will be nice and dull again." With that, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and departed with his relieved, if weary-sounding, chuckle resonating in the air.

THE END