§ § § -- May 6, 1995
Roarke brought Leslie around the last bend in the path and stepped aside, watching her face as he did so. She stopped short and gasped. The Saturday-night luau was in full swing as usual; but this time, there was a huge banner strung between two palms, which read "THIRTY AND THRIVING!" and beneath that, "Happy Birthday Leslie." Roarke grinned and turned to the gathering, calling out, "The birthday girl is here, everyone!"
Heads turned all over the clearing and voices shouted birthday greetings, stunning Leslie. Roarke, half laughing at her reaction, guided her into the thick of the party, where she was promptly surrounded by guests, employees, and her friends and their families. It took her several minutes to regain her equilibrium; by then she realized she was standing in front of a table stacked with gifts and laden with food. In the middle of it all was a gigantic sheet cake frosted in chocolate, with "Happy 30th Birthday Miss Leslie" iced on it in yellow and a huge pink icing hibiscus beside that. She stared at it all, still a little dazed.
"Well, what do you think of all this?" Roarke prompted.
"I'm astounded," Leslie finally managed, blinking at him and sweeping her gaze around at all the people watching her. "I never expected this, that's for sure. I swear, it looks like everyone on the island is here."
"Almost," Myeko told her. "I have the privilege of interviewing you for the Fantasy Island Chronicle. This character over here is Gordy—he's taking the pictures." Gordy wore a couple of expensive cameras on straps around his neck and was eyeing the food; when he heard his name, he turned to Leslie and made the motion of tipping a nonexistent hat.
She laughed suddenly. "I remember you. You were the photographer at Tattoo and Solange's wedding. I hope there's enough food for everyone else after you get done." Her teasing tone brought on laughter; Gordy grinned good-naturedly.
There were two candles on the cake, one in the shape of a 3 and the other a zero; Mariki stepped forward and lit them, and everyone sang "Happy Birthday to You", applauding and cheering loudly when she blew out the flames. Her friends gathered around her and handed her gifts; it reminded her in some ways of her fifteenth birthday, when she had been surrounded by Roarke and Tattoo, Camille, Myeko, Michiko, Lauren, Maureen and all their families, feeling for the first time since her family's deaths as though someone truly cared about her. The cast of characters had changed somewhat in the intervening years, but she felt just as cared for. Lauren stood nearby with her fiancé, Brian Knight; Tabitha, likewise, with Fernando, to whom she was engaged as well; Camille was there with Jimmy, David, now nearly five, and the sixteen-year-old quadruplets. Myeko had her two children, three-year-old Alexander and one-year-old Noelle, with her, and to Leslie's surprise was accompanied by Sheriff Clark Mokuleia, who tipped his own cap at her in greeting. Maureen and Grady Harding were there as well with one-year-old Brianna. Though Michiko hadn't been able to come, her parents and youngest sister, Reiko, now almost 26, were in attendance, as were the parents and siblings of Leslie's other friends. As Leslie soon discovered during the long period of unwrapping gifts, Frida Rosseby had sent an example of the quintessential Swedish souvenir, a Dala horse, plus a card containing a long chatty letter.
"Read it to us," Lauren urged her. "We still never hear from her."
"That's true," Leslie said, grinning. "Well, if you guys can find some time for lunch on Monday, I'll read the whole thing to you then. Meantime, she does say that she and Klaus are doing fine, and she also says that her mother and father got married last Christmas and are living not too far from her and Klaus. Her brothers and sisters are still running their mother's café, but they make several visits a year to see them."
"That's gratifying to hear," said Roarke with a smile. "Oh, Leslie, you missed this one." He lifted a large flat package from where it had been propped against the table leg and set it in front of her; he held it upright for her while she removed the card and lit up.
"It's from Tattoo!" she exclaimed delightedly, opening it and scanning the few lines he had written inside. "He's going to call me for my birthday tonight, he says. It'll be wonderful to talk to him again."
"So what'd he send you?" Camille asked.
She ripped off the brown wrapping paper to reveal, to her utter shock, the painting of the main house that had hung in the room where she'd stayed while visiting Tattoo and Solange. "Oh my God," she breathed. "Oh, Father, look…"
Roarke studied it, deeply impressed. "Is this the painting you mentioned to me after you returned from your trip?" he asked.
She nodded. "I'm glad he sent this…I wanted so much for you to get to see it too. We've got to think of a good place to hang it."
"The foyer just up from the study," Maureen offered in the awed silence that fell when Roarke and Leslie turned the painting around so everyone else could see it. "And you know what else you should do? Have a little gold nameplate made, telling who painted this and when. Put it on the wall in the hallway so that if you come inside from the terrace in the back and look straight across the room, that's what you'll see."
"That's perfect," Leslie exclaimed. "What a wonderful idea—thanks, Maureen."
"Yes, that would be the ideal spot," Roarke agreed. "I thank you also, Maureen. Well, everyone…I believe this is the moment to begin having a good time." He grinned, and the assemblage laughed and settled about doing so. Voices rose in animated conversations, and the plane-dock band struck up a lively Hawaiian-flavored tune that promptly filled the dance floor. Leslie found herself greeting a steady stream of well-wishers for more than an hour, fielding birthday wishes and occasionally some comments from visitors, in between conversations with her friends. Roarke made the rounds a couple of times, but came back each time to talk with them.
It was so late when the luau/birthday party wound down that even Roarke was yawning on the way back to the main house. Two of their employees, Mateo and Lono, carried the bulk of Leslie's birthday gifts, while Roarke and Leslie carefully toted the painting between them. They were in the process of taking down the painting currently hanging in the inner foyer when the phone rang and they both hurried to the desk.
"Hello," Leslie said with great anticipation.
"Happy birthday, honorary niece!" Tattoo's voice greeted her from the other side of the world. "How does it feel to be three decades old?"
Leslie laughed. "Not so different! Thanks, Tattoo, and thank you too for the painting. Both Father and I were overwhelmed when I unwrapped it. We're getting ready to hang it in the inner foyer, so it's right there for all our guests to see when they come here. There's no way we could hide something so beautiful."
"Flatterer," Tattoo said, making her laugh again. His voice sounded weary, she thought, and she cast Roarke a worried look that made him round the desk and switch on the little-used speakerphone so that all three of them could talk at once.
"Hello, my friend, how are things in France?" he asked.
"Hi, boss, good to talk to you!" Tattoo said cheerfully. "What is it now, midnight or something over there?"
"Past that, actually," Roarke admitted, and then added teasingly, "Technically, for Leslie at least, you actually managed to miss her birthday."
"Sacré bleu, the horror," Tattoo gasped with exaggerated shock, and Roarke and Leslie laughed. "Well, the painting made it on time anyway. And you know, this is actually the fourth attempt I've made to call you. Where were you?"
"They turned the Saturday-night luau into a birthday party for me," Leslie explained. "It went on for quite a while, and I think some people are still there. I'm glad you kept trying. What kind of birthday would it have been without you being part of it somehow?"
The threesome talked for some ten minutes, catching up and enjoying the sounds of one another's voices, before Tattoo begged off. "I'm sure you both need to get some sleep, and I'm not feeling all that great myself," he confessed.
"Is everything all right, Tattoo?" Roarke asked in concern.
"For the moment," Tattoo said. "I'm just tired—I get tired a lot more easily these days. I really just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Leslie, and to get a chance to talk to you and the boss. Oh…wait a minute…Leslie, someone wants to say something to you." They heard him prompt someone off the line in French; then a little voice crackled out of the speakerphone.
"Bonjour, cousine Leslie! Happy birthday," it chirped. Leslie giggled.
"Bonjour, cousine Mireille!" she replied, grinning at Roarke. "Thank you, and how are you doing? Are you taking good care of your father?"
"Yes, I promise I am," Mireille Latignon said, giggling. "Are you coming back to see us soon? I want you to read me some more bedtime stories."
"Oh, one of these days, I'll come back," Leslie said. "Who's reading you stories now?"
"Maman is," Mireille said. "But I like it better when you read to me. Oh, Papá wants to talk again. Goodbye Leslie."
"Bye, Mireille," Leslie said, and Tattoo came back on.
"She insisted on talking to you," he said. "She has some memory—it's been almost two years since you were here. Well, I'm afraid I've really got to go now."
They all made their farewells, and after Roarke had disconnected the call, he and Leslie looked at each other. "He sounded more than just tired," Leslie said softly.
Roarke nodded. "Yes, that was my impression too. But he made a special effort to call you for your birthday, and I suggest you focus on that and on our good fortune in having the chance to speak with him. We can leave the painting for the morning; it's time for us both to get some sleep." She agreed and wished him good night, heading up the stairs; and only then did he close his eyes briefly and expel his quiet dread in a long sigh. He had the horrible feeling that the phone call they'd just received was the last time they would ever speak with Tattoo.