§ § § -- March 26, 1992

Bearing a stack of packages related to one of the weekend's fantasies, Leslie turned from the counter at the post office and braced her chin on the topmost parcel to hold the stack in place, only to find herself face-to-face with a grinning Myeko Tokita. "Long time no see, stranger," Myeko greeted her. "I can see Mr. Roarke's keeping you busy."

Leslie grinned back. "As always, but you know I love it. You look great!"

Myeko rolled her eyes. "Everyone keeps telling me that, but I'm not too convinced. I guess I must look better than I feel—and I feel like a house right now." Myeko was pregnant and so close to her due date now that her friends were expecting to get a call anytime.

"Well, you're 'housing' that baby," Leslie punned, unable to resist.

Myeko playfully swatted her arm, rolling her eyes again. "Yuck, that really stunk. Hey, I finally got to see Camille the other day. She had David and the quads with her—I don't know if you know she's been keeping them at her house ever since her mom started working at the casino—and she told me you had to fight your birth father's ghost a little while back. I guess it must have gone okay." Camille's mother had given birth to quadruplets within months of Leslie's initial arrival on Fantasy Island; they were now in junior high school. Their birth had precipitated a global media circus not just because they were Fantasy Island's first quads, but also because they were an extreme rarity—two sets of identical twins, one set boys and the other girls.

Leslie shrugged. "Well, we succeeded, let me put it that way. It was a real ordeal for me. Did she tell you how she gave me the rudest awakening I think I've ever had?"

"Yup," said Myeko. "Typical Camille actually. And here we thought she'd mellowed out on us."

"Luckily for me, no," Leslie admitted. "I kind of needed to hear what she had to say. But you know, the funny thing is, something wonderful came out of it. I always called Mr. Roarke by his name, even though I'm his daughter. When he helped me dispatch Michael Hamilton's ghost to its just deserts, though, he called back my mother's spirit to help me out, and I think she was the one who put the idea in my head. I'd never really thought of it before, but it seemed right. Now I call him 'Father', because he really is."

"Wow," said Myeko, impressed. "And he doesn't mind?"

Leslie's eyes were wide with remembered amazement. "Mind? He was thrilled! I couldn't get over it. I spent my first few years on the island being only his ward, and by the time he formally adopted me, I was so used to calling him 'Mr. Roarke' that I just went on doing it. But since he stepped into the role that Michael Hamilton so willingly rejected, it seemed only right to start addressing him as my father. And you know something, it feels great. I feel like I belong to a family again."

Myeko grinned benevolently. "Well, good for you! Now, have you decided if you're gonna start calling yourself Leslie Roarke, or what?"

Leslie giggled. "Actually, Father said it didn't matter to him whether I used his name or my birth name. He did say that since 'Hamilton' was the name my mother used, though, I might want to retain it just to keep that connection with her. I've been thinking about hyphenating it. What do you think?" Her eyes twinkled.

Myeko made an exaggerated show of considering this, resting one elbow in the other hand and cradling her chin, peering at the ceiling. "Hmm. Hmm. Let's see how that might come out." She drew her spine straight, dropped her hands, lifted her nose in the air and cleared her throat, affecting a decidedly bad British accent. "My lady Hamilton-Roarke, the Rolls awaits you under the portico."

Both girls burst out laughing, catching the attention of some natives and a couple of visiting tourists picking up mail. "Yeah," Leslie said, "it sounds pretty 'upper-crust snob' to me too. Oh well. I hate to cut this short, but I've got to get back—Father's waiting for these packages. Now exactly when are you due again?"

"Tomorrow," Myeko said, "but there's no telling if Junior here'll stick to the schedule. Don't worry, I promise I'll call you. Now get going before your dad decides to ground you." She smirked teasingly, and Leslie left the post office still laughing.

At the main house, Roarke laughed in his turn when he saw her come inside with the stack of parcels still braced under her chin. "I didn't realize there were so many. Why don't you put them here on the desk, and tell me if you recognize this name." He displayed a pale-pink envelope at her.

Curious, she set the stack on the corner of the desk and accepted the envelope, which bore her name and a local postmark. The name atop the return address was Tabitha Zuma. Leslie shook her head. "No, I don't, not right offhand anyway. I wonder what this is." She picked up a letter opener and slit the envelope, withdrawing a notecard that had a print of a pastel-colored landscape on the front. Before she could open it, a check slid out of the card and fell to the floor. "Oops." Flipping open the card and reading it, she stooped and picked up the check.

After a moment she looked up at Roarke. "She'd like us to grant her a fantasy. The check's for…" She examined it and concluded, "Five hundred dollars."

Roarke nodded. "I see. Does she explain what the fantasy is?"

"She's hoping we can find someone for her, somebody named Fernando Ordoñez. She says she'll tell us the full story if we accept her request."

"Fernando Ordoñez," murmured Roarke thoughtfully, giving the name its proper Spanish pronunciation, even down to the gently-rolled R in both names. Leslie smiled, a little envious; try as she might, she could never figure out how to roll her R's. "Well," Roarke continued, "I don't think that will be difficult. It's not a common name. Very well, Leslie, please find an open weekend in the date book and schedule her fantasy, and send her a return note. I have an appointment, so I must be on my way. I believe it's going to be fairly quiet today, so if you would, please go through the mail and open those packages."

"Will do. See you at lunch," she said and watched him leave before paging through the date book and searching for an open time slot. There wasn't one for another month, and that only because of a cancellation. She printed the name Tabitha Zuma in the open space for the weekend beginning April 25, and eyed the card again, wondering why the name had begun to sound strangely familiar. Maybe her friends would know.

Once she had gotten the acceptance letter for Tabitha Zuma ready to send, she made a few phone calls to her friends, asking them if they remembered anyone with that name. However, it wasn't till she had called Arcolos and gotten through to the recently-crowned Princess Michiko that she finally got an affirmative answer. "Oh, I remember her," Michiko exclaimed after a few minutes of catch-up chatting. "She was in the choir in high school, but she always sang in the background with the chorus. She always came and went alone, and I rarely saw her anywhere else. So she asked you and Mr. Roarke for a fantasy?"

"Yes, her letter came just today," said Leslie. "It's nothing spectacular; she just wants us to find someone for her. You were the only one who remembered her—none of the other girls had a clue who she was, and unfortunately, I didn't either, to tell the truth."

"I'm not really surprised," Michiko said. "She was very shy, and whenever someone spoke to her she always turned beet red. She herself didn't say much. I'm surprised she was even in the choir. She did such a good job of blending into the background that I can't even remember ever hearing her sing."

"Wow!" said Leslie in surprise. "This should be a very interesting fantasy. Thanks, Michiko. Or should I call you 'Your Highness' now?"

"Don't you dare," Michiko warned laughingly, "or the next time I come back home for a visit I'll start shouting 'off with her head!' at you. I'm glad you called, Leslie—I miss talking with you and the other girls. Call anytime. Give the girls my private number here and tell them to make sure they call collect. That way they might be more inclined to do it."

Leslie giggled. "I'll pass on the message. Thanks for the info, Michiko."