§ § § -- September 14, 1996

The group met at the supper club at four as promised; Brooke had benefited from a long nap, while Daphne nursed a sunburn and Joy and Cyndy compared exotic flowers they'd seen while wandering trails and horseback riding, respectively. Shara was bouncy and full of energy, greeting everyone brightly and looking around with curiosity. "Did you get the set list all figured out?" she asked.

"Got it right here," Joy said, waving a sheet of paper at her. "George had to run out a minute, but he said he'd be right back to help with the sound check. Where'd you go?"

"Sat at the pool and watched guys," said Shara, grinning. "I had a couple of really tasty drinks too. They make wonderful drinks on this island."

"I guess you managed to remember your sunscreen," Daphne said ruefully, examining her red skin. "Does anyone have any aloe?"

Before anyone else could reply, George came back in. "Afternoon, ladies," he said. "Well, how about we start that sound check, and you can do your rehearsal?"

The sound check went well and their rehearsal was about half complete when the door opened and Leslie came in. She paused long enough to listen to the singers, then began to applaud between songs, surprising them and then making them laugh. "Hi, Leslie," Cyndy called out. "What brings you here?"

"Just wanted to see that everything's going smoothly," Leslie replied, approaching the stage and then squinting at Daphne. "Wow. Where were you that you got that sunburn?"

"I rented a moped," Daphne explained. "I think I covered the entire island."

Leslie grinned. "I see. Does it bother you a lot?"

Daphne shrugged and said, "Well, I can forget about it as long as I'm singing. Listen, not to change the subject or anything—but are there going to be any agents watching our first show?"

"Oh, God…do you want to turn me into a nervous wreck?" Joy demanded. "Don't answer that, Leslie, please. If there are any agents, let 'em wait till we're finished."

Leslie put up her hands in mock surrender, chuckling. "Anything you say. I just wanted to be sure everything's going well. Oh…Shara, there was a guy at the main house about an hour and a half ago, asking for you."

Shara's eyes widened; her sisters and Cyndy stared at her. "Did you meet somebody at the pool, or what?" Brooke asked.

Shara cleared her throat. "Did he need to see me right away?"

"He said no," Leslie replied. "I told him he could find you here if he really needed to talk with you. He seemed pretty casual about it, though."

"Oh…okay," Shara said and began to ostentatiously adjust her microphone. "Thanks, Leslie. I guess I'll see him between shows."

"Good enough," Leslie agreed. "See you later on." She left, while Shara tried to ignore the stares she was getting.

"Come on, Shara, did you meet some guy?" Brooke persisted.

Shara frowned. "He's just someone I know from back home," she said. "Look, I need to take a bathroom break, as long as we're standing here yakking. Be back in a few." She scuttled offstage while the others stared after her.

Finally Daphne said dismissively, "Hey, if Shara met a guy here, then I say it's her business, and she'll tell us when she's ready. And if he really is someone from back home, then it's probably that geek who had a crush on her in high school."

Joy and Brooke both started to laugh. "Howie Helms? I thought he gave up on her ages ago," Joy said. "Poor Shara, she just can't shake the guy."

"In that case, I think we better take it easy on her," Brooke said, giggling. "We've teased her about Howie enough to last for the next half-century. It's bad enough she has to deal with him here without us being on her back about it."

Cyndy grinned. "It's all the same to me," she said. "If Shara's at the back door beating him off, then Daph, how about you and me going to see if we can find some aloe for that sunburn? Wouldn't want you fainting from the pain halfway through the show."

About ninety minutes later the supper club had filled with patrons; Joy, peering out through the curtains, picked out Leslie seated at a table with half a dozen other women. Cyndy came out behind her and asked, "How's the crowd looking?"

"Great," Joy said. "Looks like Leslie brought a bunch of friends to the show. I saw her at a table with them, jabbering away."

"Nice of her," Cyndy said with appreciation. "Well, it's almost showtime. You think we can talk Shara out of her dressing room just once to join in our pre-show powwow?"

Joy snorted. "I wouldn't even bother," she said. "Let's just go over our checklist and be sure everything's in place, and then we'll get into our costumes and get started."

Just before they were to start their show, with George out front announcing their act, Shara popped out of her dressing room, joining her relieved relatives. "We were starting to think you'd miss the cue," Brooke muttered.

"Me? Never," Shara scoffed, beaming. "Let's do it!"

And sure enough, the show went off without a hitch; it was their usual mix of cover songs and their own original material, starting with a tune Brooke and Cyndy had written called "Believe Me." They found themselves called back for an encore, to their delight, and gladly gave one before exiting the stage once more. They had a little less than an hour before their second show, and their adrenaline was still flowing as they gathered fresh costumes and lined up to take turns in the little shower that served all four dressing rooms.

Shara, seeing the line, groaned. "I'm going back to our bungalow for my shower," she said. "See you guys in a bit."

"Shara…" Joy called after her, but her sister zipped away down the hall and out the back door. "Blast it. She's jumpier than ever, and we don't even know if there were any agents in the audience."

Brooke sighed. "Come on, Joy, give her a break. We know there will be in the next one, and she's probably all hyper about it. I really think you're obsessing just because Shara handles pre-show nerves differently from the rest of us."

"Yeah, hang loose, sis," Daphne suggested with an easy grin. "She'll be back."

Cyndy, wrapped in an oversized towel, stepped out of the steamy shower cubicle. "Next," she called. "Be careful of the hot-water handle. It lives up to its name and then some." Her cousins laughed; Brooke went in for her turn and Cyndy started for her dressing room, then paused. "Where's Shara?"

"She claimed she couldn't wait for the shower here and ran off to the bungalow to use that one," Joy said.

Cyndy eyed her quizzically. "You sound like you don't believe that."

Joy shrugged. "Well, she never did that before."

"Probably because we were never within sprinting distance of an extra shower before this," Cyndy suggested logically. "Come on, Joy, quit worrying about Shara. We're all a little nutty on account of those agents and all."

"Like Brooke said, she deals with nerves differently from us," Daphne said, nodding. "Of course, if you want one of us to play spy and sneak after her to see what she's really up to, instead of just taking her word for it…"

Joy screwed up her face in frustration. "If it's so innocent, then why is my intuition screaming that something's wrong?"

"Because your intuition likes to cry wolf," Daphne said cheerfully. "Shara's just super-crazy this time, instead of regular crazy. We've all got extra nerves. Why do you think I didn't eat supper? I didn't have room for it around the butterflies."

Cyndy snickered and said, "Yeah, and you're usually the eating machine, show or no show. So there you go, Joy. Give it a rest, huh? I gotta get my hair dried." She ducked into her dressing room. "Hey, aren't these costumes supposed to come with shoes?"

Her question ultimately sparked a mass shoe search, making even Joy forget her misgivings about her sister. For that matter, Shara appeared in plenty of time for the second show and joined in the hunt, settling Joy's worries.

Following the second show, which was as well received as the first one, the sisters and Cyndy retreated backstage to do some hasty freshening up before meeting three or four agents who had expressed interest in them. Joy finished first and stepped out of her dressing room with the intent of returning to the stage, when she heard a voice that made her pause. She recognized it as Shara's, and it sounded as if she were on the phone with someone at first. After a few seconds Joy detected a second voice, this one male, and stifled a grin. Maybe geeky Howie Helms really had followed Shara to the island. She started towards the back door to offer her sister a means of rescue, then stopped dead when Shara's voice rose a little, just enough that Joy could make out a few words.

"Dammit, Howie…lightning…have to…freaking crazy!" Shara was hissing. She fell silent; Howie's voice was too low for Joy to hear, but she wasn't listening in any case. What did Shara mean by lightning? As far as she knew, the forecast was for perfect weather.

"Get lost, Howie," Shara said, with such disgust that her voice came through loud and clear. She slammed the door and stomped down the hall, nearly colliding with Joy before Joy could dodge aside. "Oh…hi there."

"Guess old Howie figured out where we were gonna be this weekend," Joy kidded lightly. "Guy just can't take no for an answer, can he?"

Shara shrugged, a silly grin splitting her face. "Guess not."

"Are there supposed to be thunderstorms tonight?" Joy wondered idly, strolling in the direction of the stage.

"Thunderstorms? I don't know, why?" Shara asked blankly.

"I just heard you mention lightning, that's all," Joy said.

Shara stopped walking. "Oh," she said, and for just one moment looked startled, her gray-green eyes wide. Then she snorted. "Howie's still a geek," she said. "I thought it looked like a storm might be coming, and he said he was going to stand on a beach and watch it, and I told him he'd just get hit by lightning."

"I see," said Joy, peering at her curiously. "You were that concerned about him that he made you mad about it?"

"Well, if he got hit and survived it, he'd probably blame me," Shara bantered, and they both snickered. "Like I told him, he's just crazy. So where's everybody else? I thought we were supposed to be meeting with some agents."

"We are. I just finished first," Joy said, and at that point Daphne emerged from her own dressing room.

"It's all yours, Shara," she said, and Shara tossed a quick thanks at her, ducking inside and shutting the door. "I can see Brooke being slow, but what about Cyndy?"

Joy threw her hands in the air. "That impatient, are you? Why don't you come on out with me and we can make small talk with the agents while we're waiting for Cyndy and Brooke and Shara." Daphne eagerly agreed and they headed out.

‡ ‡ ‡

At the main house, it was nearly midnight and Leslie had just retreated to her room to get some sleep. Still a little wound up, she turned on her computer, changing clothes while she waited for it to boot up; then she went online to see if there were any messages. For her and her friends, e-mail was still enough of a general novelty that it had largely taken the place of telephone conversations; so she found messages from all her friends—along with one from Christian. As they always did whenever anything connected with him came to her attention, the butterflies filled her stomach and she skirted around his message, checking those from her friends first and replying to the ones from Maureen and Tabitha.

But finally she could no longer ignore Christian's message; it was the last one left. Don't bother with it, she told herself, staring apprehensively at his name in the sender line. It can wait till morning, and you need to get to sleep. Look what time it is. And it's right in the middle of a busy weekend too, so you really shouldn't… She rolled her eyes. What was the point of trying to talk herself out of it? Oh, for crying out loud, you know you're going to look at it. You might as well do it now. Disgusted with herself, she blew out an exasperated breath, gave in to temptation and opened the message.

My darling Leslie Rose,

I see that you still have trouble writing to me. I can only hope that you'll eventually open up to me again, as you did when I was on the island with you. I so miss those wonderful days we had together.

I have finally learned the true reason for that marriage contract. I caught my brother sprinkling something on his food from a special salt shaker, something he shared only with his three daughters. I was curious and asked him what it was. When he refused to tell me, I mentioned it purely by chance to Marina, who explained it to me. I had never heard of amakarna before she told me about it, but now I am afraid I know all there is to know about it. I have been so angry with Arnulf ever since the day he informed me that he had married me to Marina that I have spoken to him only when I felt it absolutely unavoidable. Now that I know why he did what he did, I don't speak to him at all. He has done his utmost to destroy my life and Marina's; she and I both are in love with others, and our happiness has been sacrificed for the sake of this spice. A condiment, of all things! I can't describe my fury over this situation. It would be more bearable if only you could see fit to forgive me for not telling you of that contract, my darling. To have daily contact with you, to have a window on your everyday life, is the only thing that keeps me sane. Marina said you told her you would wait for me. Are you going to wait in silence?

All my love, Christian

Leslie bit her lip and read the message two or three times before sighing heavily. She was indeed still blaming Christian, when he was even more trapped than she. Trying to compose a response in her head, and about to hit the reply button, she happened to notice the clock in the corner of the screen and gasped to herself. It was well past midnight and she needed to get some sleep. I'll answer it in the morning, she promised herself and signed out of her account before shutting down the computer. This time she intended to have more to say than just a simple, reserved "good morning". A tiny smile crossed her features as she turned off the bedside lamp and settled under the covers.

A couple of minutes later Roarke came up, turning on the hallway light and glancing in on her. "Good night, Father," she said.

"You're still awake?" he asked.

"Just now got into bed," she admitted, propping herself up on one elbow. "I had a message from Christian, and something he said made me think."

Roarke nodded. "I see," he said. "In that case, perhaps you'll truly communicate with him now, rather than simply brushing him off."

Leslie felt herself turn red. "Has he been talking to you too?"

"He has mentioned in passing that you've been quite cool to him, sending him the shortest messages possible," Roarke said. "My only counsel to him was to have patience. But the time is overdue for you to forgive him his oversight in not telling you about that marriage contract, my child. I suspect he felt that, once he presented his brother with the fact of his engagement to you, King Arnulf would back down and allow him his wishes in the matter, and he would never have to mention the contract. Unfortunately, he didn't know that it was, quite literally, a matter of life and death to Arnulf."

"Yeah," Leslie murmured. "I see what you mean." She looked up and smiled at him, a little sadly. "But things are going to change now. I'll write him back in the morning—I mean, really write to him."

"Good," said Roarke warmly. "Sleep well, Leslie." She smiled, settled back down and closed her eyes as he turned out the light and retreated to his own room. As always, somehow he had managed to ease her worries enough that she fell asleep quickly.