§ § § -- September 10-11, 1994

Jenny's head spun so badly that she didn't dare open her eyes; but her memory was in working order, and she remembered everything. For a good five minutes she lay still, eyes closed, listening through the swish-thud of her heartbeat in her ears. She could hear nothing else; when she finally dared open her eyes, she expected to see Ray's shoes in front of her face, but she saw only an expanse of white carpet.

Very slowly she began to gather herself together and pick herself up. Her head still throbbed dully, and there was a concentrated ache just right of center in the back of her skull where Ray had bashed her against the bedpost. After an apparent eternity she was on her feet, clutching the bedpost, peering uncertainly around her. The light was dimmer than it had been when Ray had come in and beaten her; she must have been out for some time.

"Tara?" she called hoarsely. "Brian? Dania?…"

No one responded, and she was so weak with a surge of relief that her knees went out from under her and she collapsed onto the bed. Evidently they had been out the entire afternoon, which was just as well, she decided. The last thing she wanted was to spoil their trip by telling them Ray had trailed them here. Jenny forced herself back onto her feet and over to the dresser, where a pad of stationery lay beside the contents of her overnight case and the stuffed St. Bernard that Dania still slept with every night. She picked up the pen that rested atop the pad and doggedly ignored her pain to write a short note to the others. I hope you all had fun. I had something to eat that didn't agree with me and I'm asleep, so go ahead and do whatever you want. I'll see everyone later on. She looked up inadvertently as she put down the pen and found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror. Out of habit, she carefully examined her face. Ray had been true to form; it hadn't taken him long to learn to hit her where the bruises wouldn't show, or to do it in such a way that there wouldn't be a bruise at all. She would be able to get away with pretending a mild case of food poisoning. She tore the note off the pad, tottered out to the main room and placed it with inordinate care atop the brochures Tara had been reading that morning.

Changing into her summer nightgown was a major undertaking and it felt like a great reward to crawl under the bedcovers. Only then did Jenny cry herself to sleep.

When she became aware once more, the light was different yet again, and this time she heard activity in the main room. Her head felt better, except for the knot in her skull, and she stretched experimentally in the bed. At that point the door eased open and Tara stuck her head inside. "Oh, you're awake finally!"

"Hi," said Jenny hesitantly.

"What the heck did you eat, anyway?" Tara asked, coming fully into the room and pausing by the side of the bed. "You were asleep when Dania and I came back from the amusement park, and still out of it when we got back from the luau. You missed a terrific time and some fabulous eats. I don't think you woke up once all night."

Jenny stared at her and sat up in bed; her muscles felt a little stiff, but everything was in working order. "You mean it's Sunday morning?"

"Yup, 'fraid so." Tara sat on the bed and peered curiously at her. "Are you sure you're okay, Jenny? You look kind of pale."

"I guess I'll have to remember never to eat any more exotic seafood," Jenny said with a weak smile. Tara rolled her eyes, and Jenny went on, "Where're Brian and Dania?"

"Dania's in the main room having some breakfast, and heck knows where Brian got off to. He never came home all night—his bed's still made up." Tara shrugged dismissively and studied her older sister. "What a shame, Jenny. You go and win this fantastic vacation, and you haven't had a bit of fun this whole time. If that isn't the height of bad luck, then nothing is. Do you feel well enough to come out to the beach with me and Dania? She wants to see if she can find some unusual shells."

Jenny struggled to control threatening tears at Tara's sympathy. "Get a load of you, brat," she teased in an attempt to stave them off. "Trying to take care of me. That's Dania's job, you know."

Tara snorted. "Well, she's falling down on it, then. Come on, Jenny, I think you need to sit and soak up some sun. We'll take a bottle of ginger ale for your stomach, and we can watch the waves and let Dania collect shells to her little heart's content. Okay?"

Jenny smiled. "Sounds great to me. Just let me get dressed." She watched Tara leave the room and sighed heavily, letting her head fall back, staring at the diaphanous bed canopy overhead. You have no idea just how bad my luck really is, little sister…

‡ ‡ ‡

Leslie descended the porch steps, double-checking a list she carried, and then stopped when she heard something strange. She slowly looked up and around; Lauren stood beside the fountain, leaning in and holding both hands under the dancing spray, a beatific expression on her face. Leslie stared at her for a full twenty seconds before she realized that the noise she heard was Lauren's humming.

"Where the heck were you yesterday?" she demanded, approaching her friend. "We waited for you for over an hour before we gave up. Tabitha was talking about sending out a search party."

Lauren blinked twice at this revelation and then burst out laughing. "That figures."

"Well? Spill it, McCormick," Leslie persisted.

Lauren shook water off her hands and regarded her friend. "Sorry for standing you up," she said breezily, "but, well…something came up."

"And that something would be…what?" prompted Leslie.

To her bewildered amazement, Lauren giggled and threw her hands into the air, spinning around in place like a little girl. "This has to be the best weekend of my whole life!" she sang out before turning to Leslie with an excited gleam in her eyes. "I'm in love, Leslie. I really think I am. I met this absolutely wonderful guy yesterday afternoon—he's here on a vacation with his niece and sisters. We met at the marina and started talking, and one thing led to another, and he rented a boat and we took a picnic out to sea and spent the entire afternoon talking and talking…and then it just took off somehow. He stayed at my place last night. It was just incredible how well we clicked, and I really think I've found my soulmate. And last night was…" She grinned deliriously and threw both arms over her head, pirouetting on one toe, while Leslie gaped incredulously at her. "There aren't words. There just aren't words to describe last night. Oh Leslie, I'm nuts about him!"

"Well, you're nuts all right," Leslie commented dubiously, shaking her head. "So what you mean is, you stood us up for a guy."

"Yeah…I'm sorry, but he was just irresistible." Lauren giggled again. "I hope you're not mad. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing, you or Tabitha or any of the other girls. I know you would've, and don't deny it."

Leslie shrugged, reminded of similar giddy feelings she'd experienced while falling in love with Teppo. "Yeah, I suppose you have a good point there," she mused, looking up and finally cracking a grin. "Okay, okay, you're forgiven…as long as you tell us all about him."

"You got it," Lauren promised. "Well, look, I gotta run…talk to you later!" With that, she skipped away, exactly as if she were six years old. Leslie stared after her till she disappeared around the bend in the lane, then shifted her gaze skyward in supplication, grinning in spite of herself.

Before she could head for the station wagon parked nearby, however, someone hailed her and she turned again to see Rodney Stone striding in her direction. "Well, good morning!" she greeted him, smiling.

"Hi, Leslie," he said, coming around the fountain and grinning at her. "Hey, you look pretty much the same as you did when we were here fifteen years ago."

"Flatterer," Leslie scoffed, and they both laughed. "How's Joanna?"

"Pregnant as all get-out. She's due any day." Rodney shifted his weight and reached up to scratch the back of his neck in a nervous gesture; seeing his change of mood, Leslie slid back into professional mode. "Listen," he said, "do you and Mr. Roarke have a few minutes? I really need to talk."

"Of course, come on in," she said and led the way inside the main house. Roarke looked up from the desk and smiled a welcome.

"Good morning, Mr. Stone. Checking up on the wedding preparations?" he asked.

Rodney grimaced, and Roarke and Leslie looked at each other curiously. "As a matter of fact," Rodney said, "the wedding is one thing I wanted to discuss with you."

"By all means," Roarke agreed and gestured at the chairs. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Is there anything we can get you?"

"No, thanks," Rodney said. "Just had breakfast at the hotel, actually."

"The hotel?" echoed Leslie, settling into the chair beside Rodney's.

Rodney reddened. "Yeah, well…I convinced Monica it would create some anticipation for the wedding night." He rolled his eyes. "Y'know, Mr. Roarke, I'm so full of baloney, I scare myself sometimes. She bought it with almost no trouble at all, and the whole time I was feeling relieved that I could sleep alone."

"I see," said Roarke, his tone indicating the opposite.

"The fact is," Rodney said, leaning forward, "this whole wedding is a farce. This marriage is nothing more than a business arrangement. Once Monica and I are husband and wife, she bails out Stonecyphers, and I save the livelihoods of dozens of people. It'll benefit them, and I'm sure it'll benefit Monica; she really wants to marry me, although I can't for the life of me figure out why. She's old money and I'm a struggling small-business owner."

"So you are having serious doubts about the wedding," Roarke said. "Have you discussed this with Miss Gold?"

"I don't think she'd hear me," Rodney said, frustrated. "I just don't see any way out of this mess—not if I want to save Stonecyphers." He sighed, then seemed to remember something and sat up. "Mr. Roarke, did you know that Jenny Knight is here?"

"Yes," Roarke said, "we do. Have you seen her?"

"I christened her with a Tom Collins at the pool yesterday," he admitted with a self-deprecating grin. "She took it well. We got to talking…" His voice trailed off and he stared into space for a few moments, while Roarke and Leslie waited patiently. Eventually he gave a sharp headshake. "I feel like hell about what I did to her." He explained Jenny's mention of her trust fund and his own vehement refusal of her budding offer. "I don't want her seeing me as some damn charity case. I get enough of that from Monica."

Roarke settled back in his chair, while Leslie regarded Rodney curiously. "I think I'm missing something here," she said slowly. "Are you willing to put up with it from Monica, when you won't take it from anyone else?"

"I can't seem to stop her," Rodney protested. "I keep telling Monica to quit hovering over me and hanging on my every little step, but she doesn't listen."

"But you are willing to marry her in spite of it," Roarke pointed out.

"Well, I gotta save my business," Rodney insisted.

Leslie shook her head. "I'm still missing something. You won't take Jenny's money, but you'll actually marry Monica to get hers."

Rodney whipped around to stare at her. "But Monica's in love with…" He trailed off again as her question and his own response sank in, and he let himself fall back in his chair while the wheels turned furiously in his brain.

Finally Leslie said gently, "So is Jenny, you know."

It was clear that Rodney's thought processes hadn't gotten that far and he cranked his head around to stare at her again. Finally he asked, "How do you know so much?"

Leslie smiled a little with sympathy. "It was Jenny's fantasy to see you again." She briefly explained how Jenny had used the trip she'd won to request her fantasy; Rodney listened, his face looking more and more stunned.

"And I blew her off," he groaned when she finished, scrubbing one hand across his face and raking it through his hair. "I really am a first-class jerk. I did try to find her at the luau last night, but she wasn't there…don't know why."

Roarke, who had let his daughter take the reins momentarily, now sat up and leaned over the desk a bit. "Mr. Stone, if you are to marry Miss Gold but prefer to keep company with Miss Knight…perhaps you had better examine your feelings for both ladies very carefully. Whatever your decision, someone will be hurt, and you must tread lightly."

"Yeah," Rodney mumbled, facing the full magnitude of the situation and thinking for a moment. Then he met Roarke's gaze. "Fact is, Mr. Roarke, I think it's a foregone conclusion. Monica may be in love with me, or at least think she is…but she's always known this is a business arrangement. I've made it clear to her from the outset that I don't have any feelings for her. For that matter, I've never figured out just why she wants me, when we operate in two completely different social strata." He sighed deeply and drummed his fingers on the chair arm before nodding to himself. "So I think the course of action is pretty obvious. I'd better talk to Monica."

As he rose, Roarke looked at Leslie and remarked somewhat whimsically, "Perhaps you had better add another item to that list, Leslie, and pay a visit to Julie." Because of the size of her property and her culinary skills, Julie's B&B had become the most popular place on the island to hold weddings.

Rodney paused and grinned at Roarke. "Don't act too quickly, Mr. Roarke," he said. "If my plan works out—well, I'll let you know." He hurried out of the house, and Roarke and Leslie both laughed.

"Maybe now I can get to work on those errands," she said. "If he comes back before I do, let me know what happened." Roarke laughingly promised, and she exited the house in Rodney's wake to finally get started on her list.

Rodney used a shortcut path to get back to the bungalow he shared with Monica, trying to map out what he would tell both her and Jenny. However, his thoughts ground to a halt when he came into the bungalow and saw Monica eating the last of a leisurely breakfast, alone at the dining table, looking a bit forlorn. She gave him an accusing look when she caught sight of him. "You could at least have come back and had breakfast with me."

Rodney sighed and slowly approached the table. "Monica, I'm afraid we need to have a long talk," he said slowly, trying to think of the best way to break it to her.

But his tone of voice tipped her off somehow. "You want to call off the wedding, don't you?" she asked point-blank.

Rodney felt his face heat up and nodded sheepishly. "Yeah…look, you're a fantastic woman, and any guy would consider it a privilege to call you his wife. But I've told you from the start, I just don't feel that way about you. And it really seems mercenary for me to marry you just so I have an infusion of cash to bail out Stonecyphers."

"You weren't going to take that money anyway, were you?" Monica asked, remarkably calm, getting to her feet and dabbing at her mouth with a cloth napkin. "I knew you were upset that you didn't seem to have any other way of saving your company." She dropped the napkin and gazed at him, her distress finally showing on her face. "All this time you've been saying you'll find some way to do it, yet you couldn't seem to find that way; so I thought it was all right. I guess I should have listened to you after all."

Rodney hesitated a long moment, studying her, then giving in at last. "Monica, this'll probably sound awful, but it's been bugging me for ages. Why, exactly, did you want to marry me, knowing I didn't love you and knowing that we're really too different to make it work out between us?"

To his surprise, she began to turn red, and her gaze dropped. He actually heard her swallow before she replied in a small, embarrassed voice. "You were always such a gentleman. You treated me with respect and dignity, and you never looked at me and saw nothing but dollar signs and a life on easy street, like all the other men I ever met or that Daddy's tried to introduce me to. Not only that, you were always honest and up-front with me." She finally looked up and managed a slightly wobbly smile. "It made me feel like a real person for the first time, and I guess I thought we could build something from that."

Rodney smiled back, touched despite himself. "Monica, there's gotta be someone out there for you. They say there's someone for everyone. It just takes longer for some of us, I guess. You know what I think? I think you should extend your stay here. I've always heard that a lot of couples meet on this island. You never know what could happen."

She nodded slowly, then peered at him with new recognition. "It happened to you, didn't it, Rodney? You met someone here too."

He stared at her. "I don't know how you women figure these things out. But, yeah, I did. For the second time, actually. And now I want to see if she'll have me." He shrugged and chuckled self-consciously. "Like I said, you're a really terrific woman, and you're going to make some lucky guy an excellent wife. I don't think most other women would have been half as understanding as you have." He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. "Thank you, Monica. I think you set us both free."

She smiled wistfully. "I think so too. Go find her, Rodney, and I wish you both the best of everything and all the happiness and success you deserve."

"You too," he said, "and I really mean that. Call your father and tell him you're gonna stay longer, and then do it. Let yourself fly and find that guy."

"I will," she said with cheerful determination. "As a matter of fact, I'm going to go and check with Mr. Roarke, and see if this bungalow is available for the next two weeks." She grinned at him and left at a half-run. Rodney turned with a light step and headed for the bedroom to pack the rest of his belongings.