§ § § -- August 9, 1991
The first order of business on Friday morning was to meet the plane that was bringing Michiko Tokita home. Word had spread rapidly, so that by the time Roarke and Leslie arrived at the plane dock, there was already quite the entourage waiting for her. Michiko's father, the sheriff of Amberville who would be retiring in another year, and mother were there, along with three of her four siblings. One of those siblings was her brother Toki, who was with Myeko; and naturally, Camille and her son, Lauren and her parents, brother and sister, and Maureen were waiting as well. Recently Michiko had begun at last to see her efforts bear fruit; with the help of a distant relative in Los Angeles who had been acting as her agent, she had finally caught the attention of a recording company and had just released an album. It hadn't been selling well until just a month before, when she'd appeared on the Tonight show and sung two of the songs from it. Now it was flying off the shelves, and she had sliced out some time to go back home and visit friends and family before taking off on a whirlwind of promotional appearances and record signings.
Everyone watched now as the pontoon charter hove into view, banking and circling for its landing just outside the mouth of the lagoon. For a few minutes it dropped out of view, then reappeared, taxiing across the water around the bend in the comma-shaped lagoon and finally drifting to a halt at the dock, where attendants rapidly secured it.
Michiko was first off the plane, along with a group of vacationers who had recognized her and were still collecting autographs. Not till they had dispersed did she have a chance to look around and light up with delight at sight of the small crowd awaiting her.
"What a beautiful way to come home!" she exclaimed happily.
They all cheered; behind her, Leslie heard Roarke chuckle to himself. Michiko ran for them and bestowed heartfelt hugs on one person after another; she looked astonished when she saw Roarke among her welcoming committee. "Am I really that important?" she asked jokingly, and they all laughed.
"Hometown girl makes good," Myeko quipped to her sister-in-law.
"I guess so, but I didn't think I'd made quite that good," Michiko said, then turned to Leslie and hugged her. "You look wonderful! Listen…" She lowered her voice. "I need to come and see you and Mr. Roarke later today. I'm not here just for some time off."
"Oh," said Leslie. "Well, in that case, come after lunch. We have some business to take care of this morning, but the afternoon's mostly open."
Michiko nodded and moved on to the other girls, but her words stayed in Leslie's mind as she and Roarke headed back for the main house. Roarke, of course, had overheard Michiko's words to Leslie. "Michiko is to sing on Sunday," he said cryptically.
"Where?" Leslie asked.
About to tell her, Roarke caught himself, pausing as he parked the car next to the fountain and killed the engine. Standing on the main house veranda was Prince Errico, looking very impatient indeed, frequently and ostentatiously checking his watch. "Later, Leslie. It appears the 'business' you mentioned to Michiko has suddenly become urgent." He gestured at the subject of his dry observation, and Leslie sighed.
"Well," she murmured, "I guess this is the test." She caught Roarke's arm as he started to get out of the car. "What if it doesn't work? Will I have to marry him?"
"Leslie, he can do nothing if you don't consent," Roarke told her firmly. "Divine Right of Kings notwithstanding, he must realize that he can't force you to do his bidding. Perhaps he will be motivated to think about changing that law."
"I wouldn't count on it," Leslie said darkly. "He has as much arrogance as any of his forebears, and I doubt he'd be interested in giving up any power."
"We'll see," Roarke said. "Come, now, our guest is quite impatient, as you can see."
Roarke greeted the prince warmly as he and Leslie came up the walk to the steps; Errico shot them an exasperated look. "I've been waiting here for ten minutes," he complained. "What was such urgent business that it took precedence over my fantasy?"
Longing to tell him off, Leslie refrained from speaking only with supreme effort, along with a warning glance from Roarke. "We had an appointment," said Roarke. "I apologize for your wait. Please come in and make yourself comfortable." Even as he spoke he was on the way to the door, which he opened for Errico to precede him and Leslie inside.
"Appointment," sniffed Errico. "I am nearly out of time, and I want to make the formal announcement today so that the preparations can begin."
"Preparations for what?" Leslie asked, speaking to Roarke.
"Prince Errico's formal engagement ball," Roarke said. "It is to be held on Sunday, to celebrate his choice of a wife." He turned to the prince and observed, "However, there may be complications."
Errico eyed Roarke with outrage. "You promised me it would all be taken care of."
"I have done my part," Roarke retorted coolly. "But in making your choice of wife, you may have set yourself behind your own schedule."
"I would appreciate an explanation, if you please," Errico demanded. "Leslie, you will sit here beside me."
"Leslie will sit or stand, as she chooses," Roarke corrected him. "The complications in question have to do with her." He settled himself behind the desk and regarded Errico with curiosity. "Tell me, Your Highness, are you fully familiar with the constitution of your country?" Errico stared at him blankly, and he smiled. "If not, I have an unabridged copy of which you might like to make use." Roarke picked up the leather-bound volume and offered it to the prince, who eyed it warily before slowly reaching up and accepting it.
"This book is the entire Arcolosian constitution?" he asked skeptically.
Roarke nodded. "As you can see, it's quite lengthy, so you can certainly be forgiven for not having it memorized. But you might be particularly interested in the twenty-seventh article, page 320, subheading five."
Errico stared at Roarke without comprehension, a wary look creeping over his dark Mediterranean features before he finally opened the book and found the page Roarke had mentioned. He ran a finger down the indicated page and stopped a little more than halfway, reading the subheading several times. Finally he looked up. "And how is this relevant to me?" he asked testily.
Roarke relaxed in his chair. "You are aware of my position here, are you not?" he asked conversationally. Errico's expression went blank again.
"You are the proprietor of a world-class resort," he said. "All the world knows that. I do wish you would cease beating about the proverbial bush, Mr. Roarke, and simply come to whatever point you intend to make."
"Very well," Roarke said. "I am far more than the mere proprietor of Fantasy Island. I am owner and island lord mayor—in short, the absolute ruling authority here. And, since Fantasy Island is a sovereign, self-governing territory, under the jurisdiction of no other country, that places me on a par with a president—or a king."
"Congratulations, Mr. Roarke," drawled Errico sardonically.
Roarke sat up and leaned over the desk then, pinning the prince with a sharp, intense stare. "The point you requested, Your Highness, is this: Leslie is my daughter. She is the sole inheritor of my island, and she is my only surviving child. Therefore, according to the law of your own country, you are forbidden to wed her. After all, if she leaves, who is to continue operating Fantasy Island if something should happen to me?"
Silence fell, and Roarke and Leslie both watched Errico closely while Roarke's words sank in. The prince scowled, referred to the book that lay open in his lap, looked at Leslie who took enormous care to maintain her poker face, looked at the book again, and then at Roarke once more. "You're bluffing," he finally said.
"Ask anyone on the island," Leslie said in a calculatedly neutral tone. "Even the police force will tell you that Mr. Roarke has the final legal word on anything and everything."
When Errico slumped back in his chair, looking thwarted and bewildered, they knew he had finally accepted the truth. "Diento mie," he mumbled weakly in Arcolosian. "My God." He peered at Roarke with a childlike hope in his eyes. "You truly have no other children?"
"No, Leslie is the only one," Roarke said. "I'm sorry, Your Highness."
Errico sighed, long, loud and deep, and let his head fall back with what appeared to be great weariness, staring at the ceiling. Leslie and Roarke glanced at each other; her eyes sparkled with relieved triumph, and he simply smiled.
"What about my fantasy?" Errico asked helplessly, lowering his head and staring at Roarke as if thoroughly lost. "I have no affianced wife, and the engagement ball is to be held in only two days. You must help me, my dear sir!"
So what's going to happen to Prince Errico's fantasy—and what does Michiko need to talk to Leslie and Roarke about? Never fear…it will all be resolved in the continuation!
