§ § § -- October 16, 1993
Halfway back to Liljefors Slott, she stopped the bike again and poked through her bag till she found an unused postcard and her pen. Lukas' words remained fresh in her mind, and she wanted to record them before they got away from her. She didn't doubt that he believed every word he'd said, and she was more than half convinced he was right; so she wanted to be certain she had his account written down while she had a clear head.
Completing her task, she carefully hid the card away and continued on towards the inn with a jumpy feeling in her stomach. I need to dispute that rate, she reminded herself, as if chanting a mantra, and repeated it to herself over and over.
Within sight of the inn, though, the thought faded away like powder in the wind, and she even forgot she'd had it. A peaceful sense of happiness stole over her, and a surge of cheery energy overtook her as well, so that she returned her rental bike and strolled into the lobby feeling as though she could walk all the way around the island.
"You have had a nice day?" called Anja from the front desk.
"It was wonderful, thank you," Leslie called back with a smile and continued on up to her room. Making her way to the second floor, she wondered idly why there seemed to be no other guests in the entire inn, and for some reason the thought stuck with her, as if penetrating the spell that must have come over her. Leslie stopped in front of the door to her room, key in hand, eyes wide with realization.
They did it again! I must be really helpless in the face of this thing, if I let it take me over so easily. Father would be ashamed of me. And blast it, I know for a fact I've been through something like this before! I just can't think what, or where! Frustrated, Leslie pushed the key into the lock and threw the door open, knocking the side of her head with the heel of one hand as if that would jar the elusive memory loose. Lukas is right, I've got to get out of this place. I can't think clearly around here. Besides, I can't afford that exorbitant rate they're charging me. Before she could be distracted again, she withdrew her suitcase and began packing as fast as she could throw clothing into it, annoyed with herself and the desk clerk to such an extent that the emotion seemed to provide a block to any further tampering with her thoughts.
With a thunderous mien about her, she emerged into the lobby less than ten minutes later and slammed the key onto the desk, making the young clerk jump back with wide eyes. "I need to check out," Leslie announced. "Your rates are far too high, and I can't afford to stay here at those prices."
Anja blinked at her. "We make the price less," she said, gazing intently at Leslie as she spoke. Leslie's ire escalated and she shook her head.
"It never should have been that high to begin with. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving." She pushed the key across the counter at Anja. "Now, please."
At this point an older woman emerged from the back and asked Anja a question in Swedish; the girl replied hastily, her eyes still huge with something like fear. The older woman turned to Leslie and studied her intensely. "If you wish, we will lower the rate of your room for last night as well," she said.
Resolutely Leslie clung to her determination, which she could feel fading even as she stood there. "No," she insisted stubbornly, her voice sounding slightly desperate. "I stand by my decision. Just check me out." She looked away from the older woman and shook her head hard, focusing grimly on her need to escape.
"Please do not leave," Anja pleaded, sounding on the verge of tears. "We do as you wish, we make the price much smaller. I promise you this. Please."
Leslie made the mistake of meeting Anja's tear-filled gaze, and as if prompted, her own eyes filled too. Out of nowhere she felt unaccountably sad. "I…"
And that was when it hit her. Oh my God, she thought. Now I really have to get out of here. I've got to talk to Lukas… She sucked in a breath and blinked back the involuntary tears of empathy. "Let me leave, this moment," she demanded more loudly than she had meant to. Her voice echoed slightly off the walls, and its volume finally made both the woman and the girl capitulate. Anja reluctantly checked Leslie out of the room, and Leslie grabbed her belongings and all but ran out the door into the street. She glanced at the bike-rental shop across the way, decided against it and started to walk towards the city.
§ § § -- October 18, 1993
Wide awake at nearly eight the following morning, in a room in a small city hotel, Leslie stared at the ceiling and ruminated over what she had gone through the previous night. The revelation she'd had the night before remained fresh in her mind, and she overturned her new theory with a feeling of unease, trying to decide exactly where to begin investigating. If she turned out to be right, she planned to cut her trip short and fly back home to Fantasy Island as soon as humanly possible.
Finally she decided the best place to start was with Lukas at the café. She got up and repacked her suitcase, then sat at the table near the window and appropriated the pad of hotel stationery that lay there. Thinking hard, sometimes waggling the pen back and forth between her thumb and forefinger, she composed a list of questions to ask Lukas, and resolved to keep after him till she got the answers she needed. When she looked at the clock, it was almost ten. She ripped the sheet off the pad, folded it a couple of times and stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans; then she donned a light jacket that she'd bought in Paris with Tattoo and picked up her duffel, slinging it over her shoulder and leaving the room with a sense of purpose.
At the front desk she asked where the café was located and was delighted to find that it was only a few minutes' walk from the hotel. She thanked the clerk and strolled at a leisurely pace along the streets, following the directions she had been given, till the little café came into view. She crossed the street and settled at a small table near the front window, glancing around and finding herself one of several customers at the moment. She pulled her list from her pocket and reread it critically, made a couple of additions and finally folded it over once again, sighing.
"Ah, fröken, welcome," said a familiar voice, and she looked up at Lukas, who was watching her with a reserved, wary smile.
"God morgon, Lukas," Leslie said. "Do you have any free time today at all?"
He stared at her in surprise. "Why do you ask?"
She drew in a deep breath. "I left Liljefors Slott last evening," she told him quietly. "You were right. They tried to get me to stay, but I managed to keep my wits about me, and I walked back into the city last evening. I'm at a hotel a few blocks from here."
Lukas' expression warmed considerably, and his smile widened with relief. "I am very glad to hear that." He glanced around at the scattered customers before turning a politely quizzical gaze on her. "Perhaps you are interested in a tour guide, then?"
Leslie hesitated. "Not exactly. I have some questions."
Again Lukas' guard went up. "I don't know you, fröken," he said coolly.
She nodded. "I understand," she said, "but if you prefer, we won't leave this café and I'll sit at this same table, in plain view of anyone passing by outside."
Lukas regarded her in silence, and she sat quietly, waiting. He looked away, thinking hard to judge from the expression he wore, and frowned, closing his eyes momentarily. At last he gave a sigh and nodded. "Very well. You should have some breakfast, however. Please, take a menu and make a choice, and take your time. When the others have left, I will call my sister to take over, and I will speak with you."
"That's fair," said Leslie with a relieved smile. "Thank you, Lukas."
Lukas nodded, expression still guarded. "Enjoy your meal." He turned away and left her table noticeably more quickly than he'd come; she smiled faintly and perused the menu at some length, checking a small Swedish phrasebook she had brought with her, before making her choices. Lukas brought her fare with only a nod of acknowledgement and after that left her entirely alone.
Another 90 minutes passed before the other customers left and Lukas disappeared into the back for a bit, returning shortly with a dark-haired girl in his wake. She tended to the lunch crowd while he came directly to Leslie's table and sat in the chair opposite her, his blue eyes chilly. "Before you ask me anything," he said in a voice that seemed to lower the temperature in the room a good ten degrees, "you will tell me who you are and why you are here. You have had me at a disadvantage since we met yesterday."
Leslie nodded. "Understandable. But I must ask you in turn to keep my identity private. I've discovered recently that I'm something of a public figure." She had seen it while touring Arcolos with Michiko and while exploring Paris with Tattoo; in the latter case, he had been recognized for the artist he now was, while she was spotted for being one of the hosts on Fantasy Island. She hadn't fully realized the extent of the fame of her father's resort till this trip, and had later reflected somewhat ruefully to Tattoo that it might have been a mistake to have new travel brochures printed the previous year that contained photos of her and Roarke as the hosts. It was a very strange feeling.
Lukas eyed her in confusion. "You are famous?"
Leslie grinned sheepishly and lowered her voice. "My name is Leslie Hamilton, and I'm from Fantasy Island."
His reaction was just what she had expected; he stared at her in disbelief. "You are the assistant and daughter of Mr. Roarke! But what are you doing here on Lilla Jordsö?"
She smiled and summarized her reasons for visiting the little island, then leaned forward. "Ever since I came here, I've thought there was something familiar about Liljefors Slott and the story behind the place. After the last day or so, I can see my sources were right." She glanced at her list of questions and drew in a deep breath. "First of all…tell me everything you know about the Liljefors family, please."