§ § § -- September 25, 1993
About an hour after the weekend's guests had arrived (and been greeted by Roarke with Julie, resigned but good-natured in light of the reason), a small crowd gathered at the plane dock for the next departing charter. A few natives traveling to Hawaii for the weekend were already in the process of boarding; Leslie stood with all her friends, the quads, the sons of Myeko and Camille, and Roarke and Julie, waiting to board. Even Mariki was there to see her off, looking suspiciously bright-eyed.
"Good heavens, this is a bigger entourage than I had when I left here with Teppo," Leslie kidded, evoking laughter. "I'll be gone only a month, and I'll be visiting Michiko, so I'll have news from her. Any last-minute messages for me to give her?"
"Just tell her to send you back here in one piece, that's all," Lauren said, grinning. "I don't think Mr. Roarke would know what to do without you anymore."
"Sure he would," shot back Julie unexpectedly. "He comes over and rousts me out of my nice warm B&B and tosses me in to pinch-hit." She grinned, and they laughed again.
Mariki leaned over and actually pinched Leslie's cheeks, making her wince. "Now you make sure to come home all rested up and back in the prime of health, Miss Leslie," she scolded. "It's just not quite the same trying to feed Miss Julie. She doesn't eat."
"I do so!" Julie protested. "I just happen to eat my own cooking, that's all!"
Leslie turned to Roarke. "Father, maybe you'd better start having people over for dinner," she observed, rubbing her face in the wake of Mariki's pinches. "At the very least, it'd give Mariki someone to feed, and you won't find yourself living on leftovers."
Roarke chuckled. "As a matter of fact, I had thought to begin inviting fantasizers to dine at the main house," he said. "One on Saturday evening, the other for Sunday lunch. I daresay that will keep me from being too lonely while you're gone."
"And we can drop by now and then and see if you've heard from Leslie," Maureen added. "I can do with the exercise now that I'm expecting. Grady's beside himself—he's probably afraid I've turned into glass, because he treats me with kid gloves."
"You'd better go, Leslie," Roarke advised, casting a smile around the group and then focusing on his daughter. "You're already the last to board the plane, and they do have a schedule to keep." He came to her and hugged her close while Julie, Mariki and Leslie's friends watched. "Whatever else you do, relax, have a wonderful time, and don't trouble yourself with what's happening here at home. You'll be back here and into the thick of this business again soon enough, so try to accept that and concentrate on enjoying the places you're visiting."
"I'll do that," she agreed. "But I'll really miss you, Father, you know that. I'll try to call when I can and let you know how things are going along the way."
"Don't trouble yourself with that either," Roarke said, but smiled. "Now go."
She gave him a last squeeze, then detached herself from him and grinned at the others. "Well, here goes," she said. "See you guys in about a month!"
Amid calls of "Bon voyage!" and "Have a great time!" she finally boarded the charter plane, feeling a peculiar sense of déjà vu. The last time she'd done this, she'd been with Teppo, leaving her home for what she'd thought was the rest of her life. Now she had an adventure in front of her, and she found herself looking forward to what lay ahead.
"What a relief," Roarke confessed as they all stood watching the plane taxi through the lagoon. "I was afraid I would have to call in the authorities." Amid a chorus of laughter, the group dispersed and headed for their respective homes.
‡ ‡ ‡
By the time she landed in Santi Arcuros more than fifteen hours after leaving Fantasy Island, Leslie was convinced her leg muscles had turned into overcooked spaghetti and her head into a large ball of fuzz. She'd had to change planes in Honolulu, Los Angeles, New York and Rome, in the last of which she had found herself boarding a rickety-looking commuter plane stenciled with the legend "Rainbow Air: the Airline of Arcolos". She had been one of only three passengers on that flight; little wonder, she thought, since locally it was about two in the morning. She was going to be reliving Saturday all over again, because she had crossed the International Date Line within minutes of takeoff from Fantasy Island. The other two passengers looked as if they had done this on hundreds of prior occasions; they collected suitcases from the lone flight attendant who apparently also acted as porter, then strode across the tarmac to a bus that waited at the far end.
Leslie gathered her suitcase and peered uncertainly around the area. The airport, in contrast to the plane, looked brand-new and was well-lit and inviting. About to go and find a place to wait for her transportation to the palace, she was halted by the pilot. "Wait, donni," he advised, using the Arcolosian term that was on a par with the Italian donna from which it had descended. "Here is your transportation now."
The lights spilling out of the terminal windows illuminated a long black limousine which glided to a stop a short distance from the airplane. The back door popped open and Michiko Tokita, now Princess Michiko of Arcolos, erupted out, rushing for Leslie and throwing her arms around her with a joyful shout. "You're finally here! Oh Leslie, it's so wonderful to see you!" She pulled back and examined her friend critically. "Oh my gosh, Mr. Roarke was right when he said you'd collapsed from exhaustion. Come on, let's get you back to the palace pronto. Nobody else is up, so all we have to do is get you to your room and you can sleep all day if you want." Without waiting for a reply, she tugged a totally befuddled Leslie along to the waiting limo.
"It's hot here," Leslie finally remarked inanely, so drained from all her flights that she could no longer think. Her return greeting to Michiko had been automatic, as had her smile of relief that someone was there to pick her up; but her brain seemed to have ground to an unceremonious halt.
"Oh, that's normal for here," Michiko said, prying Leslie's suitcase and overnight bag from her hands and thrusting them at the driver who had come around to stash the luggage in the trunk. "Don't worry, we have air conditioning to spare. You go first." She gently prodded Leslie toward the car, and Leslie crawled in and sank into a plush seat with a deep sigh. The interior of the car was cool and blessedly low in humidity. Michiko got in after her and pulled the door shut. "Errico probably thinks I'm insane," she chattered cheerfully. "I've been sitting up waiting all night, staring at the clock. I've been too excited to sleep. It's going to be so much fun having you here with us, Leslie. I can't wait to start showing you all around Arcolos. We can start with Santi Arcuros, and then you've got to take a trip into the Maragnas…that's our mountain range, and the rainbow-gem mines are there. Errico keeps a private summer home in the forest on the shore of Lake Oligati, and we should definitely visit Li Ciento on the east coast. It's a gorgeous resort town." She halted and stared at Leslie, who was watching her with blank eyes, apparently trying her utmost to be polite. "Oh dear, just listen to me. I'm turning into an awful chatterbox, but it's just so good to have one of my friends here after all this time. You're the first one to come and visit!"
Leslie grinned. Tired though she was, she was happy to see Michiko as well. "I guess I'll have to start laying a guilt trip on the other girls," she remarked, making Michiko laugh merrily. "Well, I'll be here for ten days, so there's plenty of time for us to do all those little side trips you're talking about." She yawned hugely in spite of herself. "I'm sure Dr. Lambert back home would be horrified to see me now. Did Father tell you exactly what happened last weekend?" While Leslie had been sleeping most of Monday away, Roarke had put through a call to the palace and spoken with Michiko to advise her that Leslie was coming for a visit and why.
"He outlined it," Michiko said, gazing at her curiously. "He said you fainted?"
Leslie nodded and told her what had happened the previous weekend in whatever detail she could prize from her memory, which seemed to be closing down on her even as she spoke. After a few minutes Michiko held up her hands. "Never mind," she said. "You're all but asleep on your feet, and five days of enforced idleness after three years with no time off just isn't enough. Let's get you off to your room at the palace before you faint again and scare twenty years off my life." She rose and lurched forward through the long back compartment of the limo to the glass divider that cut her and Leslie off from the driver, rapping on the glass a few times. It lowered a couple of inches and Michiko gave the driver some instructions in Arcolosian. A word or two of acknowledgement came back, and Michiko sat down where she was while the divider rose again and the car gained immediate and surprising speed. Leslie, who'd been perilously close to dozing off, was awakened again by the movement and looked up with some alarm.
"What kind of roads do you have on this island?" she asked.
Michiko laughed. "Don't worry, they're the best. The palace is actually about ten miles southeast of the city and we're already over halfway there. I just told the driver to make it as short a trip as possible."
"And I notice you speak Arcolosian," Leslie observed, yawning again.
Michiko nodded. "Needless to say, I had to," she said. "Most of the servants don't speak English." She too yawned, a result of Leslie's action. "Now that you're here, I can get some sleep too. Hang on, Leslie, it's just a little farther."
Within the next ten minutes the car had wound its way up a curving gradient and come to a halt under a softly-lit portico. The driver followed Michiko and Leslie inside, toting Leslie's bags and handing them over to a tall, thin man with a saturnine face who reminded Leslie of Lurch from the old Addams Family television series. "Oh yes," Michiko said with a slight giggle. "Our butler, Giohanni. Not only does he not speak English, he doesn't speak at all. Just follow him, Leslie, he knows where your room is."
Is that a good thing? Leslie thought, eyeing Giohanni with caution, but made her way along in the butler's wake with Michiko alongside her. After hiking what seemed like a mile down a corridor with a floor so highly polished that Leslie could see everything reflected in it like a slightly distorted mirror, Giohanni brought them to a stop in front of an ornately carved, very heavy wooden door. He set down the bags, extracted a shiny silver key from some hidden pocket and unlocked the door, stepping aside and holding out one hand to indicate that Leslie and Michiko should enter.
Despite her near-comatose state, Leslie was stunned by the beauty of the room where she would be sleeping for the next nine nights. The bed was a king-sized canopy affair, all intricate fussiness, but the fluffy ivory comforter issued an irresistible invitation. There was a round table with two chairs; a huge wardrobe to which Giohanni took Leslie's bags; and a door that stood open enough to reveal a sparkling bathroom on the wall across from the bed. On the wall opposite the door there was an enormous picture window that was one solid sheet of glass; in the far distance Leslie could see the twinkling lights of Santi Arcuros, and there was a striking view of the clear night sky. The wall on either side of this window consisted entirely of built-in shelves, most of which were empty.
"Wow," mumbled Leslie, blinking and wondering if she would remember where she was in the morning.
"Glad you like it," Michiko said. "Just pull that cord next to the window and you can shut out all the lights so it's nice and dark for you to sleep." She bestowed another hug on Leslie and grinned into her friend's sleepy face. "You poor thing. Go on to bed, and sleep as long as you want. I'll put out the word not to disturb you."
"What happens when I finally do wake up?" Leslie asked.
"See that phone on the table beside the bed? Just pick it up and punch out the number 10—that's the palace switchboard. This place is so big we have our own telephone system and a phone in every room. Tell them you want to talk to me, and they'll connect you. That's all you need to know now. Okay?"
Leslie smiled. "Perfect. In that case, I'll see you sometime tomorrow."
"Great." Michiko beamed at her. "Good night." She turned and called, "Giohanni!" The laconic butler pivoted silently away from the wardrobe and crossed the room, going out the door without so much as a glance to either side. Michiko waved impishly and let herself out, pulling the door shut behind her.
Leslie slowly crossed the room to the window and let her head fall back till she was staring at the stars. She lingered long enough that she nearly did collapse where she stood, because the Milky Way was clearly visible overhead and she had not had the privilege to see that since she was in elementary school in Connecticut. Finally, sapped of even her last inner reserves, she turned and grasped the thick silken braided rope that brought a heavy curtain down over the window. She then found her most comfortable nightshirt in her suitcase, changed for bed, brushed her teeth and doused all the lights, feeling her way to the bed and crawling under the comforter with a long weary sigh. She was deeply asleep less than a minute later.
‡ ‡ ‡
When she did awaken, the room was dim but she could see her surroundings, and for a moment she was confused before memory returned with a rush. Leslie rolled over in bed and squinted at the clock next to the phone; it was almost noon. But she felt much better and was more than ready to get up for the day. Her stomach rumbled as if to second the decision, and she grinned to herself and picked up the phone, punching out 10 as Michiko had instructed her to do the night before.
A voice replied in Arcolosian and Leslie hesitated for just a second before requesting, "Princess Michiko, please."
"Ah, donni Hamilton. Her Highness said you would call for her. One moment, if you please." Leslie swung her feet around and sat up over the side of the bed, waiting. There were a few clicks, the double buzz characteristic of European telephones, and then Michiko answered. "Leslie, is that you? Did you sleep all right?"
"I slept fine," she said. "Just now woke up and never stirred till this moment. I feel great. Obviously I missed breakfast, but what's on the agenda for today?"
"Well, first things first. I'll come to your room, because this place is like a rat's maze. It took me a month to learn my way around when I first got here. So you get up and get dressed, and I'll be there in a little bit. Lunch is in about ten minutes, and the children are eager to meet you. Errico's looking forward to seeing you again too."
"Okay," said Leslie. "Thanks, Michiko."
A few minutes past noon, Michiko tapped on the door and glanced around the room; Leslie had lifted the curtain to admit enough light by which to see, but otherwise had left things as they were. "Good," said Michiko. "Think of it as a hotel—the servants will straighten up while you're out of the room. Lunch is waiting and so are Errico and the kids. We eat a lot of seafood here, being on an island, but there are a lot of French and Italian elements to Arcolosian cuisine too. So we have the best of two wonderful ethnic menus. And we really need a chance to talk about what's going on back on Fantasy Island. You need to catch me up on all the news from home." Michiko chatted excitedly on while she led Leslie through a warren of corridors, up one and down another till Leslie was all but dizzy from the numerous twists and turns. At last Michiko opened the door to a large room with a twenty-foot ceiling; in here was a long table that could seat at least three dozen persons, and the far end of the room seemed to be open to the elements.
"There's no wall," Leslie said in surprise.
"This room opens out onto the terrace where the palace pool is located," Michiko said. "This is the summer dining room, by the way. Sit anywhere, and let's have some lunch." She and Leslie took chairs at the table where Prince Errico and the three children were waiting for the two women to join them.
"Leslie, my dear, what a treat to see you!" Errico said expansively, making her grin sheepishly. "My dearest Michiko has been chattering of nothing else for nearly a week, ever since Mr. Roarke called here and told her you were coming to visit us. I understand part of the reason you are here is under medical orders."
Leslie nodded and summarized the events of the previous weekend while servants materialized from the perimeters of the room and served the six diners. "So, well, you're stuck with me for the next week and a half," she said jokingly. "Just don't feel you have to go out of your way to entertain me, especially today. I'm still a little knocked out from all the flights I had to take yesterday, and I'll be just as happy to spend today lazing around here, while Michiko and I get caught up on everything."
"Of course, of course. You are resting, after all," said Errico, nodding. "Tell me, how is your illustrious father, Mr. Roarke? Is his island still as popular?"
"Every bit," Leslie said and grinned. "Sometimes I think we get busier every year." She looked around at the three children, who were watching her curiously. "Hello, Your Highnesses. I'm not sure you remember me—you didn't see very much of either me or my father when you were on Fantasy Island."
The children, now thirteen, twelve and ten years old respectively, looked at one another and then grinned. "Madi talks about you and her other friends on Fantasy Island all the time," said twelve-year-old Princess Adriana cheerfully. "So we feel that we know you, except that we never really met any of you."
They all laughed. "Well, then, in that case, I'm Leslie Hamilton—I'm Mr. Roarke's daughter and assistant," Leslie said, "by way of formal introduction. Now refresh my memory here, so I don't wander around trying to think of your names all the time."
The older boy told her he was Prince Paolono; his sister reminded Leslie of who she was, and the younger boy explained that he was Prince Marcolo. Leslie nodded and smiled at them. "Pleased to meet all of you."
"Do you really see a lot of magical things on Fantasy Island?" Adriana asked. "Madi says they happen there all the time."
Leslie and Michiko looked at each other with knowing grins, making Errico and the children all wonder what the two knew that they didn't. "Well, Father prefers that most of the business conducted on Fantasy Island stays there," Leslie said. "A guest's fantasy is confidential, and we don't just spread information around at random."
"But you used to tell us about the fantasies every Monday at school lunch," Michiko reminded her. "Did Mr. Roarke know you were doing that? I mean, if he did, he never stopped you, since you did it right up till we all graduated."
"Oh, I think he knew," Leslie said, "but he also knew that he'd made it very clear to me from the beginning that I wasn't to tell just anyone I met. And after he met you and the other girls once I started school the week after I first arrived, I think he realized that I was going to talk about my weekends. Which, of course, is why I asked you guys to keep everything I told you to yourselves. And even at that, I never told you all the details."
"No, you always summarized things," Michiko remembered, "and sometimes if something funny happened, you'd tell us about that. But all we ever heard was 'so-and-so wanted to be a rock star', or 'what's-her-name asked to see ancient Rome', things like that."
"Right," said Leslie. "Father never mentioned it after that. I guess he knew I'd picked friends who could be counted on to keep secrets."
Michiko grinned a little sheepishly. "But you never knew just how much we had to restrain Myeko sometimes," she confessed, making Leslie's eyes go wide. "There's a gossip columnist in her soul, all right."
Leslie laughed. "Funny you should mention that. Lately she's been pestering Toki that she wants to start working for the Fantasy Island Chronicle in just that capacity." She bit her lip. "Which has led to problems, actually. I'll tell you about it after lunch."
Some two hours later, while the prince was handling state matters with his father and the children had gone horseback riding with two of the palace's stable hands, Leslie and Michiko lay by the pool on lounge chairs, dressed in swimsuits, slathered in sunscreen and fortified with mildly alcoholic drinks. "Okay, now, what's this about Myeko wanting to be a gossip columnist?" Michiko prodded.
"I guess Toki's taking exception," Leslie said and recounted Myeko's complaints. "It's gotten to her so much by now that she wants Father to grant her a divorce from Toki."
Michiko gasped and sat up, lifting her sunglasses to gawk at Leslie in horror. "Are you serious? Myeko was always crazy about my brother. I can't believe she'd ask that."
"Well, she did," Leslie said, sighing gently. "Michiko, since Toki is your brother and all, naturally you'd have at least some idea of what his feelings toward Myeko are and were. Myeko brought up the fear that maybe Toki married her because your parents expected him to marry, and since she was in love with him anyway, she was the most convenient and obvious choice. What was your impression about Toki and Myeko?"
Michiko slowly settled back down on her lounge, absently tugging her sunglasses back into place and staring into the brassy blue sky. "I can't say that Toki ever really talked about Myeko much, at least not before we'd all finished college anyway. But you're right about Mother and Father expecting him—all of us really—to get married. Reiko's still single, but she's only 24, so there's no real hurry for her. But you know all the rest of us are married now, and that was just the way things were supposed to be."
"But did he ever talk about who he might've wanted to marry?" Leslie asked.
"No, I don't think so," Michiko murmured. "I do know one thing: he had a crush on you for several years, Leslie. I know you probably think that's ridiculous, but it's true. He used to ask me questions about you now and then. It's just that he made such a botch job of it when you and he first met each other, he was never sure how to handle it after that, and I guess he figured it was a lost cause. But he really did like you a lot, Leslie."
"Hmph," mumbled Leslie uncomfortably. "He had a strange way of showing it."
"Not that it matters," Michiko said and grinned. "After you met and married Teppo, it became a moot point. That's when he started dating Myeko. Now the thing is, Leslie, all the time you were living in Finland with Teppo, Myeko really had to work on him. As far as the rest of us knew, he'd lost interest in you; but he never seemed to have the kind of feeling for Myeko that she did for him—or even the sort of feeling he used to have toward you. The more I think about it, the more I'm beginning to be afraid Myeko's right: that he married her because it was expected of him, and she was there and in love with him anyway, so that made it easy for him." She sighed and shook her head. "How long has he had that job in Hawaii, by the way?"
Leslie sat up in her turn and studied Michiko curiously. "I wouldn't know. Not that long, I guess, or Myeko would have complained about it long before this. I thought you'd know that. Was he working on Fantasy Island before?"
"Yes, in the casino," said Michiko. "He was making pretty good money there, but I suppose he didn't like it too much. Who knows with Toki?" She stared through her dark lenses into the sky again. "I'd hate to lose Myeko as a sister-in-law, but even though Toki's my brother, I have to admit I'm on her side. Toki's always been the black sheep really."
"I can believe that," Leslie remarked. "But it'd be harder on Myeko if she succeeds in getting her divorce, because Alexander's going to have a little brother or sister sometime in January. In view of that, I don't blame her for wanting to work for the newspaper."
"Oh, I'm getting a new niece or nephew!" Michiko exclaimed, brightening. "That's great! I just wish the circumstances weren't so sad. So…what about the other girls?"
"Camille's not watching the quads anymore—they're fourteen now, so they can stay at home by themselves. David keeps her busy now that he's three. Maureen married a lawyer named Grady Harding last November, and she had Father perform the wedding ceremony. Her mother was matron of honor and Myeko and Lauren and Tabitha and I were all bridesmaids—Camille was off-island with Jimmy and David at the time."
"Who's Tabitha?" Michiko broke in.
"Oh yes…Tabitha Zuma. Remember when I called last year asking about her from high school when she came to us for a fantasy? We got to be friends, and she's become part of our little group. She's still single, and so is Lauren. Maureen's pregnant now…about two months along. She says Grady acts like she's made of glass."
Michiko laughed. "Was this Grady Harding someone she met on the island?"
Leslie nodded. "He's actually about fifteen years older than we are. He's an attorney, and not just any attorney but a very good, honest and ethical one. They finally tore down that enormous mansion Maureen inherited from Russell St. Anthony, and they're building what Maureen describes as Grady's dream house on the site, along with a separate building where he plans to install his law practice. And Maureen wants to put in a garden where she can grow her own flowers and vegetables. I think the grounds'll be just gorgeous when they get everything done." She smiled faintly. "And as for us, everything's about the same as it's always been. Mariki's still the cook, my room doesn't look any different, and we still have red vehicles with red-and-white-striped canopies for roofs. About the only differences are that Father and I both tend to dress more informally during the week, and we got a computer to help knock out reply letters more efficiently. We had the main house painted last month, and I'm trying to grow a plumeria bush in front of the gazebo section of the porch where we always eat. So far it doesn't look like I'm much of a green thumb."
"Poor Leslie," Michiko teased. "Well, I'm glad you brought news from home; I don't hear much from any of the girls these days. They're all getting lazy about staying in touch, and I can't always initiate contact. The kids are sweet but they're spoiled in a lot of ways, and I'm constantly running around Arcolos appearing at charity projects or in parades or at high-class parties or political functions. I never knew being a princess could be such hard work. Now I appreciate what Princess Diana probably goes through." She grinned.
"Did you declare a personal vacation just for my visit?" Leslie teased, and they both laughed. "Gosh, this is really something, Michiko. It's gorgeous out here, and you have the most amazing view. Are the mountains high enough to get snowcaps in winter?"
They chatted for some time in this vein, till the sun dropped low enough that they noticed it was late in the afternoon and Michiko's three stepchildren came out to play in the pool for awhile. They had supper a little past seven that evening, and Leslie found herself yawning helplessly less than two hours after they'd finished eating. Michiko urged her to get some more sleep, and she went to bed without much fuss.
Her ten days on Arcolos drifted lazily by; she made friends with Paolono, Adriana and Marcolo, and saw quite a few other locales beyond the palace. She and Michiko took shopping excursions in Santi Arcuros and the southern coastal city of Enecola, went on a tour of the largest rainbow-gem mine in the Maragnas, and spent a couple of days on Lake Oligati at the royal vacation house, sailing on the lake and entertaining one of Errico's brothers who dropped in for a visit. His interest in Leslie was ruthlessly quashed by Errico, who told him firmly that Leslie was her father's only child and as such, was off-limits. Michiko and Leslie had a long private laugh about that later on.
The evening before she was to leave Arcolos, Leslie got a visit from Michiko, who offered at first to help her pack and then smiled and settled on the bed when Leslie declined. "So where are you off to next?" Michiko asked.
"Paris," Leslie said, "to visit Tattoo and his family. Even when Teppo was alive, we never managed to get there to see them despite that I was about as close to France as I was ever going to get. Anyway, I haven't met Tattoo's children, and I want to see his house and his art gallery and see how he's doing. The last time we saw him was at the engagement gala two years ago, and Tattoo's so busy that we seldom hear from him."
"Ah," said Michiko. A grin spread across her features. "As a matter of fact, you're likely to have company. Errico and that one servant of his who speaks English are about to head for Paris themselves to peruse the stock in that very art gallery. Errico just loves it, to the point where he refuses to go anywhere else. Tattoo gets all Errico's business."
"Your husband has very good business sense," Leslie said with a broad grin. "He has a servant who knows English?"
"A recent hire," Michiko said, "from someplace in Ireland from the sound of it. He has enough of a brogue to give him away in no time flat. His name's Rogan something, I think. And he's a looker, Leslie—so be careful he doesn't turn on that Irish charm, or you're going to have your heart broken."
Leslie smiled wryly, an old sadness creeping into her eyes. "Not too likely," she told Michiko. "It may have been three years since Teppo died, but I'm no more ready for a new relationship now than I was then. I've lost too many people in my life, and Teppo's death was probably the last straw. No, I'm not taking that risk again. Don't worry about me."
Michiko studied her and shook her head a little. "I don't know if that's the healthiest attitude in the world, Leslie, but I have to admit that I can understand why you feel like that. Well, it's not as if you really have to be involved with someone. Anyway, have a good trip, and give Tattoo and his family our greetings and love."