§ § § -- September 14, 1996

Joe Charlimansky, alias Joseph Charles during his TV-anchor stint, had just departed the main house for the small television studio a few miles outside the western limits of Amberville, armed with a briefcase full of notepads and pens and a tape recorder, and very excited about the news story he was to research and report on for his newscasts this weekend. His parting words had been, "Don't worry, Mr. Roarke, I'll ferret out the bad guys and expose them on my broadcast…you can bet on it!" Roarke and Leslie were still grinning at his enthusiasm when the foyer door opened and the five young women of the Foster Sisters singing group entered, chattering with their own excitement. The four sisters, Joy, Brooke, Shara and Daphne, all looked very much like one another, with long sunbleached blonde waves, gray-green eyes and cleft chins, although Shara was perceptibly slimmer than the others. Cyndy Malouin boasted most of the same physical features, although her hair was a glossy dark brown; she looked enough like her cousins to be mistaken for a fifth sister.

"Hi, Mr. Roarke!" the women chorused, and Roarke's grin came back.

"Hello, ladies," he said. "May we get you anything?"

"We already had those delicious drinks at the dock," Cyndy said cheerfully. "I think I'll wait and have another with lunch."

Joy, Brooke and Daphne concurred, but Shara spoke up. "I wouldn't mind another one, Mr. Roarke. Maybe a Singapore Sling?"

"I'll look into it," Leslie offered and headed for the kitchen. Shara sank into one of the chairs and Brooke, who sported an advanced pregnancy, took the other; Joy, Daphne and Cyndy gathered behind the chairs.

"This is such a gorgeous place, Mr. Roarke," Daphne said, awestruck. "I never saw so many exotic birds. I wish I could take one home!"

Joy rolled her eyes teasingly. "Daphne's our bird enthusiast. She already has three parakeets, two lovebirds and a canary. The last thing you need is a parrot, Daph."

"Oh, I know, but they're so pretty to look at. When we get rich and famous, I'll buy a house, and then I can have all the birds I want. When can we start our fantasy, Mr. Roarke?" Daphne asked brightly.

"Once Leslie has returned," Roarke said, "we'll discuss it. Miss Foster…" he began, addressing Brooke.

Brooke grinned. "I'm 'Miss Foster' only onstage—in real life I'm Mrs. Rutledge. And I'm feeling just fine, thanks…the baby isn't due for another six weeks."

Roarke raised an eyebrow and observed good-naturedly, "I see a great many people have asked you the same questions for some time now." His guests all laughed and Brooke nodded confirmation. "In that case, I will merely remind you that if you need anything at all, you have only to ask the staff and they will do all they can to see that you're comfortable."

"That's great…thanks, Mr. Roarke," Brooke said appreciatively.

Leslie reentered the room then and handed Shara a glass. "All set."

"Good, thank you, Leslie. My assistant and daughter, Leslie Hamilton," Roarke said by way of introduction before taking in the group for a moment. "Perhaps you ladies would be so kind as to provide a little background on yourselves?"

Joy said, "Well, as you know, we started shooting for the big time about ten years ago. Daphne was still in her junior year of high school. We sang at parties, at first for family gatherings, and then for school functions, and then around town…we're from Bellingham, Washington. Two years after we formed our group, our cousin Cyndy moved to town and we found out she was a singer too. She and Shara both do terrific harmony, so we brought Cyndy into the fold. She really added something to the group, because somehow we just took off around the area. We were getting great reviews for our act, and we had bookings not just in Bellingham, but in Everett and even Seattle. It was a logical progression to see if we could impress some big cheese at a recording company, so we sent out demo tapes. Of course, nobody ever responded. We didn't even get all the tapes back. We thought it was some flaw in our singing, so we all had voice lessons and then sent out more tapes…and still nothing. So we thought, maybe the songs…"

"We usually write our own stuff," Cyndy put in, "but we decided to look for some songwriters who might be able to get us some good material. We got about a dozen songs, made still more demo tapes and sent them…"

"And nothing again?" Leslie prompted.

Joy sighed. "Exactly. The weird thing is, every time we made these improvements, our bookings soared and our reviews glowed more than ever. But the record companies just ignored us." She cleared her throat and glanced at her cousin and sisters. "I don't want to sound like we think we're too big for northwestern Washington, Mr. Roarke, not at all. We love what we do and the audiences are so fabulous—it's just that we're ambitious."

"Of course you are," Roarke said with understanding. "A great many ambitious music groups have the same hopes that you do, and receive the same lack of response." He pulled open a desk drawer and extracted the tape that the group had sent him. "While I realize that there are undoubtedly many equally talented musicians hoping for the same break you do, I did find your tape extremely impressive. I had some feedback indicating that you could reasonably expect to find success on a national level." He gave Leslie an oblique look, and she shrugged, smiling. Their guests giggled.

"I do think you're all exceptional," Leslie said. "As a matter of fact, I talked Father into letting me borrow the tape, and I took it over to the manager of the supper club. He was blown away, to use the vernacular. You're booked for two shows this evening: the first one is at seven, the second at ten. And tomorrow you'll be performing at the amusement park. The manager has the pavilion marquee all decked out with your group name, and you have four shows there throughout the day." The group members looked at one another with bright eyes; it meant exposure to vacationers from all over the United States and from a wide assortment of other countries. "Not only that," Leslie added, "but there'll be agents from record companies at your ten-o'clock supper-club show and at the second and third of your amusement-park performances. All from different companies."

This met with squeals of delight and Joy and Cyndy hugged each other exuberantly. Shara raised her glass in toast and downed a goodly percentage of its contents; Brooke and Daphne linked hands and squeezed. "This is fantastic! Thanks so much, Mr. Roarke and Leslie!" Joy exclaimed.

"You're very welcome," Roarke replied with a smile. "You will be sharing a bungalow, the five of you, and I suggest that you go there and rest for a time. George, the manager at the supper club, will expect you for rehearsal and sound check at four this afternoon; until then, the day is yours to do with as you will."

"Then I'm for the pool," Shara announced. "This might be the only chance we have all weekend to relax, and we really should rest the pipes before we do our little concert series. We could bill it as the Foster Sisters Fantasy Island Concert Tour."

"But we have to work out a set list," Joy said. Leslie, listening to her, had the impression that she was the group leader. "That won't take too long, so see if you can hold on a little longer, Shara. Which bungalow do we get?"

"I'll take you," Leslie said. "Right this way."

As the women walked, the group and Leslie chatted, getting acquainted a bit; Brooke revealed that it was her first baby and she was excited, although nervous. "Chris—that's my husband—is back home in Bellingham waiting to find out if we get any good news this weekend. He was worried about me flying at seven and a half months pregnant, but I told him this could really be the break we've been after for so long."

"Of course," Leslie said. The name of Brooke's husband had caught her off guard; seemingly every other thing still managed to remind her of Christian. But she carefully schooled her expression; after what she'd been through immediately following his marriage, she had no interest in more pity. "Your doctor must've okayed it, since you're here."

"I made sure he did," Brooke remarked with a grin. "I told him that if he didn't let me have this chance at stardom and riches, he might not get paid his usual nice fat fee." They all laughed and continued along.

The sisters and Cyndy exclaimed over their bungalow when Leslie let them in, and she handed Cyndy the key and smiled. "Enjoy," she said. "If you need anything, the staff can see to it…and if there are questions they can't handle, Father and I are always available."

"Great," Cyndy said. "Thanks, Leslie." Brooke, Daphne, Joy and Shara added their thanks in chorus, and Leslie paused for a moment.

"You guys sounded a little like your demo tape," she said, a little shyly. "Could you sing a couple of lines, just so I get to hear you live in person?"

Good-natured laughter greeted that and they nodded; the five women lined up in the middle of the room, conferred for a moment and then belted out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" in rich, soaring harmony. Cyndy and Shara sang harmony to Joy's second soprano, Daphne's alto and Brooke's soprano, with Cyndy a half-tone lower than Brooke and Shara's half-tone providing contrast in between Joy and Daphne. They treated the little song like a ballad, so that Leslie found herself humming along, and when they finished she applauded enthusiastically.

"You guys are even better in person!" she said, evoking laughter. "I got all my friends tickets for the seven-o'clock show tonight, and I know for sure they'll be impressed."

"Thanks again," Daphne said, and her sisters and cousin echoed her. Leslie smiled in reply, excused herself and departed.

"Okay, everybody," Joy said when the door had closed behind her, "let's work out our set list now, so we can get it over with and start enjoying ourselves. I think if we take a fifteen-minute break in the middle, we can probably fit about two dozen songs into a two-hour show."

"Are we starting out with 'Believe Me', like we usually do?" Shara broke in.

"We could," Joy said, eyeing her curiously. "I was thinking of mixing up the order of the songs, just for something fresh."

Brooke shook her head. "I don't know, Joy. Maybe for the first show at least, we should stick to our usual order, so we can kind of get the lay of the land and see what sort of reaction we get from the audience. If it turns out well, we could mix it up for the second show. But let's not change too much too soon."

Joy frowned thoughtfully, then nodded. "That sounds good, Brooke. Okay, then, we can start with 'Believe Me' as usual. But in the second show, I'd like to open with a real rocker. Maybe our cover of 'The Look'…"

Shara shifted restlessly in her chair. "Joy, really, if you're just gonna mix the same old numbers, then there's not much reason for me to hang around, is there? I mean, we always tape a copy of the set list to the stage floor, and I know all the songs backwards and forwards. I really need to get out and get some fresh air, but before I do, I need to take a shower and get into my swimsuit and so on…"

"Shara, what's with you?" Joy demanded.

Daphne grinned. "It's probably restlessness from being cooped up in planes for so long. I can't blame her, Joy—I've got the same problem."

"Couldn't we work on the set list during rehearsal at the supper club?" Cyndy asked. "I mean, it's great to be so gung-ho, but Mr. Roarke said we have the day to ourselves till four, and I really hate to miss out on what little leisure time we've got."

Brooke yawned. "Sorry, but you know us preggos…we need our sleep." That brought on a round of laughter, and Joy flipped her palms up.

"Outnumbered, I see. Okay, okay, do your thing. To tell you the truth, I was hoping to get in some beach time myself. See you at the supper club, everybody." She watched the other women, except for Brooke, get to their feet; Cyndy and Daphne went off to change, while Shara bolted for the bathroom as if she were late for something. "Hey, Brooke…" Joy began, trailing off in search of the words she wanted.

Her sister peered drowsily at her. "Hmm?"

"Do you see anything…weird about Shara?" Joy asked helplessly.

Brooke shook herself awake and struggled into a more upright position on the sofa. "I don't know…depends on what you mean by 'weird'."

Joy frowned, still trying to articulate her vague disquiet. "She just seems…skittish. No, more like jumpy. Too energetic, maybe. She's got all this…this get-up-and-go all the time. She's turned into one of those people who just can't stay still."

Brooke listened with a curious frown, considering Joy's words and thinking back. "I can't really say I've seen much different about her, if you want to know the honest truth. Shara's always been kind of excitable, though. I mean, she always gets nutty and nervous in the last couple hours before a show, but once she's onstage she's professional all the way."

"I know," Joy mumbled, slowly shaking her head. "She always shuts herself in her dressing room and doesn't come out till we get the cue. I just don't get that."

"That's just Shara," Brooke said through another yawn. "I don't see her acting any different from usual. My opinion here is that it's probably excitement because we're about to finally see our dream come true. With Mr. Roarke granting our fantasy, and stardom just waiting for us, I'm kind of antsy myself. In fact, it's the only thing keeping me awake at the moment, and it won't be long before even that isn't enough." She grinned.

Joy laughed and gave up. "Okay, go take your nap already. Maybe I'm just seeing things that aren't there, I dunno." She got up and knocked on the door of the room she was sharing with Cyndy and Brooke. "Hey, cousin, you done in there yet?"

Ten minutes later Shara emerged from the bathroom and glanced around the main room of the bungalow; no one was there. She peeked quickly into the bedrooms; Joy, Cyndy and Daphne were gone, and Brooke was sound asleep on one of the beds. Shara sighed to herself with relief. This would be the only chance she'd get till they got to the supper club, and she couldn't last that long. She hurried into the room she shared with Daphne and began to scrabble single-mindedly through her suitcase.