§ § § -- April 25, 1992

Just before dinner, Roarke received a visitor. "Ah, señor Ordoñez," he said, looking up and smiling in welcome. "Please have a seat, won't you?"

Fernando Ordoñez returned the smile but shook his head. "Gracias, señor Roarke, but I don't have very long. I just wanted to say muchas gracias for all your hospitality. I've felt a little safer here."

Roarke frowned in surprise. "Safer, señor Ordoñez…?"

Fernando, realizing he had slipped, shrugged and smiled a little foolishly. "From the rigors of med school," he said jokingly. Roarke responded with the obligatory chuckle, but traces of his puzzled expression remained. "Anyway…" Fernando gazed around the room, making a slow 360-degree turn to take it all in. "This is an amazing place, señor Roarke, and it definitely lives up to all the hype it gets. I'm not sure how I got so fortunate as to win the trip here, but I'm very glad I did." He hesitated a moment, looking as if he might say something else; Roarke waited patiently.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he finally prompted.

Fernando cast an anxious look out the open French shutters at his right, then turned back to Roarke and lowered his voice. "I, uh…well, señor, I saw someone at the pool, someone I used to know years ago. Her name is Tabitha Zuma." Roarke nodded in recognition. "I…wasn't able to speak with her there, but I do want to see her. This evening maybe, when she isn't busy. Am I breaching protocol in asking you which bungalow is hers?"

"Oh, not at all, señor Ordoñez," Roarke replied, smiling again. "As a matter of fact, I believe she will be very happy to see you. She is in the Lotus Bungalow. Of course, if you wish to have dinner with my daughter and me this evening, you would see Miss Zuma that much sooner. She will be dining with us at Leslie's invitation."

Fernando looked a little startled, straightening up and backing a couple of steps away. "I don't think so, señor Roarke…I have…other plans for dinner. I heard the hotel chef is very good with seafood." He smiled weakly. "I don't mean to sound rude, but…" His voice trailed off and he winced abruptly. Roarke watched in silence. After a moment Fernando sighed deeply, taking another look around the room. "But I truly appreciate your extending the invitation. If it's still open, perhaps tomorrow evening."

"Of course," Roarke agreed, suspicion lingering in his dark eyes. He skillfully masked it, smiled for Fernando's benefit. "And perhaps it's wise for you to take advantage of Jean-Claude's presence, for he is due to retire in the summer."

Fernando laughed, more heartily than the situation warranted. "I see! Then I should get to the hotel with all due haste, I think. Once again, muchas, muchas gracias, señor."

"De nada," Roarke said with another smile and watched the young man leave the house at a gait just shy of an all-out run. The smile faded and he settled slowly back in his chair, trying to understand Fernando Ordoñez's nervous demeanor. He wondered if Tabitha Zuma had noticed this about him, and considered asking her when she and Leslie returned for the evening meal. She hadn't mentioned it when she had told him and Leslie about Fernando's initial reaction to her, and his two guests had had so little contact thus far that he was pretty sure the question would yield little information; but he decided it was still worth asking. Decision made, he arose from the desk and went to check on the meal.

He had just emerged onto the veranda when Leslie and Tabitha pulled up in the rover and stopped beside the fountain. Tabitha carried a package, and both young women were laughing. Roarke paused at the top of the steps to meet them.

"Hello, ladies, how was the shopping trip?" he asked.

"It was fun," Tabitha said with a shy smile.

"We met Myeko and the baby in town," Leslie added. "He's still so little, he looks like the old baby dolls I used to have." She grinned. "I guess we're just in time."

Roarke smiled. "I believe so, yes. Mariki should be out momentarily. Why don't you leave that here by your chair, Miss Zuma, and let's take our seats."

They were well involved in the meal when a figure slipped warily into the empty study through the open French shutters. He knew he had only so much time and he must execute his plan quickly. Drawing a deep breath and trying to quiet his loudly-protesting conscience, he made his way behind Roarke's desk and studied the drawers, choosing one at random and groaning softly when it turned out to be locked. Actually, that would have been perfect, except he didn't have a key to get into it. He could only settle for the hope that no one would ever think to look here. He pulled out the top middle drawer, extracted a bulging, rubber-banded envelope from the camera pouch strapped around his waist, and shoved it as far back in the drawer as it would go, then hurriedly pushed the drawer shut. Shooting one last frantic glance at the foyer, he all but ran out of the study and through the shutters, vanishing down a trail that led off the terrace.

About fifteen minutes later Tabitha sat back and smiled. "You were right, Leslie—Mariki is a wonderful cook. I don't think I've ever eaten so well in my entire life."

Leslie grinned, and Roarke smiled. "Why don't you tell Mariki that? She would very much appreciate the compliment. I myself am very pleased that you so enjoyed the meal. Is there anything else we can do for you?"

"Oh, you shouldn't ask me that," Tabitha warned with a slight laugh. "I'll be so badly spoiled when the weekend is over, I won't want to go home." Roarke and Leslie chuckled in response. "The wine was simply wonderful. I've never had such an excellent vintage."

"I'm glad," Roarke said. "In that case, then, Miss Zuma, feel free to go wherever you like—the casino, the pool, the lagoon. The evening is yours to spend as you wish."

Tabitha arose, her face alight. "Again, thank you so very much, Mr. Roarke. Or, as we'd say in Náhuatl, tlazohcamati huel miec."

"You are very welcome indeed, Miss Zuma," Roarke said, also rising along with Leslie. "Enjoy your evening." They both watched Tabitha cross the porch, descend the steps and start up the Main House Lane.

"I wish we'd gotten to know each other back at that Halloween party," Leslie said wistfully. "She's such a nice person, Father."

"Well, as the saying goes, better late than never," Roarke observed, pushing his chair in beneath the table and starting back toward the door to go inside. Leslie fell into step beside him. "I believe you and she have already forged a friendship; and I suspect before long, she will become a member of your group of friends. Incidentally…" He tossed a curious glance at Leslie. "You never mentioned you had asked Myeko to send Miss Zuma an invitation to that party."

"I forgot all about it," Leslie admitted with a shrug. "That was about the time Camille started acting really peculiar, and her sister came home for a visit…"

"Ah yes," Roarke said. "So there were other things on your mind at the time…quite understandable." He opened the door and let her precede him inside. "Why don't you wait here; I'm going to make a brief check on the Aristides fantasy for an update."

Tabitha took a leisurely walk back to her bungalow and settled herself into an overstuffed easy chair, unwrapping her package and lifting out the two dresses she had bought. She had just gone into the bedroom to hang them up when there was a knock on her door; in surprise she laid the dresses across the bed and hurried out to answer it. To her amazement, there stood Fernando Ordoñez.

"Hello, Tabitha," he said softly, looking sheepish.

She stared at him. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."

Fernando went red, cast a faintly-alarmed glance over his shoulder and said, "If you'll let me in, I'll explain everything, I promise. Please."

His expression and demeanor puzzled her, but she couldn't refuse him. She stepped aside, and he darted through the door and closed it for her. Finally she asked, "Fernando, for heaven's sake, what's wrong?"

He paused for a moment, just to take in her face, then cradled it in both hands and smiled, softening his anxious look. "Your English has improved so much, mi amiga. And you've become so beautiful. You must tell me what happened." He planted a hand between her shoulder blades and guided her into the main room of the bungalow, where they both settled into the love seat. Tabitha sat up and faced him.

"Fernando, please," she insisted. "First, tell me what's wrong."

He sighed deeply and folded her hands into his. "I really didn't want to treat you that way at the pool," he began. "I felt like the lowest creature in the world when I sent you away from me…but I had to do it, for your safety. You see, Tabbie, there are some men who are looking for me. I have something they want, and they'll stop at nothing to get it."

His old nickname for her made her smile in spite of herself. "Oh, 'Nando, mi amigo. Why are they after you?"

He lowered his head, studied his hands wrapped around hers. "I guess I should start at the very beginning. My father was determined to see that I had a better life than he did, one where I would never lack for anything and perhaps be able to properly provide for a family someday, as he had so much trouble doing. He worked himself to exhaustion to earn the money to pay for college and medical school for me. I tried to help—I have a partial scholarship. But the expense is staggering, and Papa was finally forced to borrow a rather large sum from an old friend of his, Calvin Howell. Unfortunately, he learned too late that Howell forged a career on the wrong side of the law. The man deals primarily in illegal gambling, with a loan-shark business on the side.

"Papa had hoped that their status as longtime friends, ever since junior high school, would give him some immunity. But Howell has no conscience left; he'd cheerfully bury his grandmother alive just to win a bet. For a while Howell let Papa believe that he was cutting him a break, and graciously accepted Papa's loan repayments over the next four years while I finished college and went on to medical school. He even made out receipts which Papa kept in a safe place. But then, when the loan was fully repaid, Howell's true colors came out, and he continued to extort money out of Papa, calling it interest on the original loan. He always came with a couple of henchmen, and all three of them were heavily armed, so Papa never had a choice but to go on paying him.

"This went on for a year before Papa's tolerance reached its limit. Just last fall, as I was starting my final year of medical school, Papa laid down the law and announced that he was paying Howell no more money. He insisted that he had already paid far more than he had owed, and it was time for the extortion to stop. They argued about it, and Howell and his men brandished their guns, but Papa had had enough and stood his ground. They got angry and shot Papa to death; then they ransacked the room and took all the money they could find.

"I saw everything: I was upstairs in the shadows, out of sight of them all, watching. I didn't dare intervene, and when they killed Papa, I was frozen with shock and couldn't move if I'd tried. But I grew furious when I saw them tearing the room apart, and I knew I had to avenge Papa's death somehow. So I followed them at a distance, into downtown Calexico, until I saw them park their car in front of a large brick building and go inside. I slipped in after them; they had no guard, believe it or not. Incredibly careless of them—but I've since learned there are only the three of them, and they're small-time hoods despite the front they put up. They're cocky, too—they think all they need is their muscles and their guns, and no one will stand up to them and live through it.

"I probably shouldn't have done what I did, but my anger was too strong and it was dictating my actions. I hid in a safe place and waited until I saw all the lights go out and heard the men leave…then I slipped into Howell's office, picked the locks on all the drawers in his desk with my pocketknife, found the money they stole from Papa…and stole it back."

Tabitha, who had been gaping in disbelief throughout this narrative, gasped loudly. "Fernando, what were you thinking?"

"I told you, my anger was driving my actions," he said, running a hand through his glossy black hair. "Why should such lowlifes get away with what they'd done? I got safely out of the building with the money, but they learned it was gone almost immediately, and ever since then I've been looking over my shoulder. When I received a notice in the mail that I had won a trip to Fantasy Island, I thought it would be a perfect time to slip out of town and lie low for awhile, as long as Mr. Roarke would let me stay, anyway. So I've been here for nearly two weeks, but my time here is almost up and I don't know what I'm going to do after that—especially since I discovered three days after my arrival that Howell and his two pals followed me here."

Tabitha paled. "Fernando, you can't go on like this. Why don't you tell Mr. Roarke?"

"I have no evidence, Tabbie," Fernando said. "Those damned crooks took the receipts that Howell had given Papa and burned them, so there was no evidence of the transactions. I have nothing to prove that the money wasn't theirs—only the story I just told you. And what can Mr. Roarke do with that? I didn't want you mixed up in my mess, Tabbie. So when I saw you at the pool, I was so stunned for a moment that I forgot myself, but I knew immediately that I wanted you safe. You're completely innocent and have nothing to do with any of this."

"Well, I do now," Tabitha said nervously, "now that I know your story. And what's more, you can't get rid of me now. If you let me, I could try to help you. I could go to Mr. Roarke and Leslie and tell them everything you told me."

"No," Fernando said, rocketing upright and grasping her shoulders. "No, Tabbie, don't do that. It would only put them in danger too, and I'm already risking your life just by telling you all this. And anyway, I've hidden the money in the safest possible place I could think of." He shook his head. "But I couldn't go on letting you think I wanted nothing to do with you. The look on your face when you left the pool…you'll never know how terrible I felt. Oh, Tabbie, please, let me make it up to you somehow."

She smiled faintly. "To begin with, you could explain something for me. I thought you and your father moved to Texas, but you said you followed those men into downtown Calexico. When did you move back?"

"Less than six months after we left," Fernando said. "Papa's job in Texas didn't work out, so we returned to Calexico. Unfortunately, by then you were gone, and no one in our old class even seemed to realize you weren't there anymore, much less knew where you had gone. I've wondered what happened to you ever since." He grinned broadly for the first time, bringing back strong memories for Tabitha of the boy she had known. "So…now it's your turn to tell me your story."

"It won't be quite as long as yours," Tabitha said. "I think I managed to explain to you that we are full-blooded Aztecs, my parents and I, and my father wondered whether that was enough to give us refuge in the only place on earth that didn't require oceans of red tape to initiate and complete the immigration process. So he wrote to Mr. Roarke within a week of our arrival in Calexico and explained everything as best he could in the Spanish we had learned during our time in Mexico, after our village was discovered. The gamble paid off and Mr. Roarke gave us the go-ahead to move to Fantasy Island. We left before you came back to Calexico, and I grew up and went to high school here. I took classes in Spanish there, and in my last year I met a girl who tutored me in English so that I finally learned the language well enough to function properly."

"She did a wonderful job. You speak it flawlessly," Fernando complimented her.

"Gracias, mi amigo. My Spanish is better but still not perfect, unfortunately, but at least when I speak it, it isn't quite so broken." She chuckled. "Papa got a job at the casino, and Mama took a position as a maid at one of the mansions in the Enclave. When I finished high school I was able to get a job as the receptionist for a doctor on the other side of the island. I've been with him for nine years now, but he's elderly and wants to retire soon. Unfortunately, there's no one to replace him, so he simply carries on. I have a tiny apartment near the fishing village, and Mama and Papa still have a little house there that we moved into when we first came to Fantasy Island. I try to visit them once a week."

"I never forgot you, Tabbie," Fernando said softly. "I'm glad you were able to come here. Did you find school easy here? Did you make new friends?"

Tabitha told him about her school years on the island, and he nodded, absorbing her narrative. She looked up after a few moments' pause, then said, "I never forgot you either, mi amigo. I just didn't know where you were to try to find you again, and you and your father left for Texas so suddenly…"

"I know," he said wistfully. "Neither of us ever thought to ask for the other's address to stay in touch. What a stroke of luck that I won that contest."

Tabitha blushed her usual sunset red and said, "I have to confess, 'Nando, there was no contest. That was my doing. I finally wrote to Mr. Roarke and Leslie and asked them to grant me a fantasy—which was to find you again. And they did, somehow."

Fernando stared at her in astonishment, then began to smile. It turned into a grin that stretched from one ear to the other. "Tabbie, you are a rare gift," he said at last. "And maybe a mind reader. Just yesterday morning I was going to track down Mr. Roarke and ask him for a fantasy of my own—namely, to find you!"

Tabitha's hand went to her mouth, and all of a sudden they both started to laugh, then hugged each other without restraint for the first time in some fifteen years. And it was then that they heard the knock on the door.