§ § § -- July 7, 2001

It was, at last, the day of Gabriella's coronation. The previous week or so had been a sheer whirlwind of preparations and telephone calls; most of it was a blur in Leslie's mind, but there were standout moments. The day after watching the tapes of the previous two coronations, Leslie, Anna-Laura, Anna-Kristina and Michiko had all embarked upon a shopping excursion together, and Michiko had finally asked a question that had been torturing Leslie's curiosity for years. "Is it just me," Michiko had asked, "or does royalty have a penchant for overusing the same names? You see, my sister and Errico's youngest brother are married and expecting a baby soon, and they plan to name it Androno if it's a boy, after Errico's late father. It turns out that there are quite a few Andronos in the Bartolomé ancestry, not to mention all the Erricos and Carlonos and Paolonos. And the females are almost as bad. I've always wanted to ask why, but I've been afraid of offending my husband if I did…so I thought perhaps you could shed some light on the question."

Anna-Laura had laughed aloud. "I've often thought of that myself," she said. "That's the reason I gave my children the names I did. Yes, we do have a bad habit of employing the same names again and again. Anna, in some form, is a favorite in the Enstad family. My mother's name was Susanna, which I sometimes think is the reason my father married her; and for about four generations there had been no girls born into the family. So when I was born, I received the name—though I'm told Mother insisted on adding the 'Laura' to help set me apart. Then when my brother Arnulf married his Kristina and they produced their first daughter, they decided to honor me and her in tandem, and thus combined the first half of my name with hers. That's why my niece here is named Anna-Kristina."

"What about the men?" Leslie had broken in then. "I see 'Carl' was used more than once…in the same generation, no less."

"Quite so," Anna-Laura had agreed. "In addition to the thirteen Eriks and six Lukases who have ruled this country, there were four Carls and five or six Johans. Our father, Arnulf I, was Grandfather Lukas' only child, and he disdained the idea of repeating names, which is why Father was the first Arnulf. But Father, being more staid and traditional than Grandfather, apparently lacked imagination and named his firstborn after himself; then we got my next brother, and he received the name Carl Johan Lukas Erik. I am Anna-Laura Charlotta. And then Christian came along…" She hesitated, met Leslie's look, and smiled wryly. "He has more reason than he knows to resent Father's attitude toward him. When we learned I had a third brother, Father cursed very loudly, then said, 'Just name him Carl, it's enough.' Mother and I were both quite angry about that. We already had a Carl Johan and needed something else to give the new baby his own identity. I had a favorite book whose hero was named Tobias, and said we should name the baby that. And Mother came up with the rest—she had a brother named Christian who died of polio at the age of fifteen months, and wanted to honor him. And that's why his name is Christian Carl Tobias."

Michiko had smiled and nodded, then given Leslie a look that Leslie knew she'd never forget and said, "Well, the Bartolomés are about to get quite the shock, because after all this time, I'm finally pregnant. And this baby is going to get an original name!" Leslie had gawked at her, then shrieked with delight and hugged her best friend hard. It had never occurred to her to think about her own trouble conceiving; it always thrilled her to hear that one of her friends was expecting.

Three days later, Errico, Michiko and Carlono had come to join Anna-Kristina, Gabriella, Margareta, Christian and Leslie in Anna-Kristina's enormous double suite, on the back of the first floor next to the master suites that had been used by all the kings and queens of Lilla Jordsö for nearly a millennium. Here, they spent some serious time coming up with a list of songs that absolutely had to be played at the coronation gala. The yellow legal pad on which Margareta was writing down song titles began to fill in a surprising hurry, what with Michiko, Leslie, Carlono, Anna-Kristina and Gabriella throwing out a raft of suggestions that all dated from the 80s. Now and then Errico, treating the whole thing as a joke, had given them the title of some inane disco song from the late 70s, which usually made Leslie and Michiko carol about how well they remembered the tune in question.

Then Christian had cleared his throat. "Forgive me," he said, surveying the women especially; they had all been quite caught up in the fun. "But it appears that I'm the senior citizen of this group. Your Majesty, if I may ask, when were you born?"

Errico had laughed. "In 1961, my dear Prince Christian, which is the reason I've been suggesting those disco tunes. I frequented many a discothéque in my day."

"As I suspected," said Christian. "I'm three years older, so I am indeed the oldest one in the room. By the time the 80s came along, I had already passed the age of my greatest interest in the current music. This isn't to say that I disliked 80s music, but I came of age in a slightly earlier era. Leslie, my Rose, I know full well that you and Michiko, and quite likely Prince Carlono, should have some knowledge of 70s songs. Yet in all this time, neither you nor they have suggested a single tune from that decade. Why is that?"

Leslie, surprised, had stared at him. "It just never really crossed our minds, I suppose. Maybe also because the initial choices came from Anna-Kristina and Briella, and their memories revolve around most of the same 80s tunes we remember." She had then playfully rested her forearm on his shoulder and leaned on him. "If you wanted your era represented, then why didn't you make some suggestions?"

"Yeah, Uncle Christian!" chorused all three of Christian's nieces, then burst into a storm of giggling.

Christian gave Errico a long-suffering look; the Arcolosian monarch had shrugged and grinned. "I wasn't aware that anything I had to say would be welcome," Christian had said.

"Well, say something, my darling," Leslie said, grinning. "I'd love to hear it."

Christian had let his gaze roam around the group, resting for a few seconds on each face in turn; then, when he finally got around to his wife, he said, "Then let me see if I can stump you with a few oddities. Margareta, let me know if you need help spelling this. My favorite 70s song is 'The Logical Song' by Supertramp."

"I know that song!" exclaimed Leslie and Michiko in perfect unison, and at that the entire group had burst into laughter, Christian included. After that there had been a large number of 70s tunes suggested, until one point when Christian had made a quick trip up to his room and returned with a stack of old LPs that made the 60s-born contingent pounce on him to check out his collection.

And then—this, Leslie knew she would never forget either—Christian had casually said, "Oh, Margareta, here's an obscure one for you. This absolutely has to go on that list of yours. 'Easy Evil' by the Captain and Tennille."

Most of the others had stared blankly at him—but Michiko had looked around with wide-eyed interest, and Leslie had gasped aloud, sat up straight and gaped at him. "How do you know that song?" she had cried. "I love it!"

"I do too," Michiko had said. "In fact, I introduced Leslie to it, shortly after she and I first became friends! I thought no one outside the United States knew about that song."

Christian in his turn was gaping right back at Leslie. "You know that song too!?"

"Yes! Where did you hear about it?" Leslie had demanded excitedly.

"A dinner party when I was 21," Christian remembered, grinning. "We had the family of some visiting American politician, a mayor or some such, who had jordisk ancestors. His one daughter was quite a fan and had brought a copy of the album that contains 'Easy Evil'. She played it for us, and the song truly impressed me. As a result, she gave me the album as a gift—and here it is." He displayed an LP at her. "And now that I know you're familiar with that song, you can rest assured that you and I are going to be dancing to it."

It had come out, later, that the coronation gala was not going to be held in the castle, but rather on the grounds of Liljefors Slott, thanks to some deft negotiations by Liselotta. Their own miniature fortress had a very nicely appointed ballroom of the sort that was curiously lacking in the royal castle, and they were more than happy to play hosts. The whole place had been in a state of anticipatory excitement, sorely needed after the heavily grievous atmosphere in the wake of Arnulf's death. Christian still had some mild episodes wherein he fought with his lingering guilt; but they had all been in private with only Leslie to witness them, and she had patiently talked him through them.

Now, on the seventh day of July, Leslie found herself awake for some reason; she cast a passing glance at the clock, which read a few minutes past six. She had called Roarke the night before to update him on the plans for the coronation, as well as to advise him on Christian's ongoing mental state and her news about Michiko's pregnancy. Christian had talked with him a little as well, enough to agree with both Roarke and Leslie that they had been in Lilla Jordsö long enough and should head for home as soon as Gabriella had been officially crowned—especially in light of Christian's looming man-without-a-country status. They wanted to get back to Fantasy Island before his current passport was rendered invalid and he found himself trapped in oceans of red tape. So they were planning to fly out of Sundborg around breakfast time on Sunday, the eighth, to reach Fantasy Island on what would in fact be Monday, the ninth, due to crossing the International Date Line again.

Leslie turned over in the bed to face Christian, who slept deeply at the moment, and regarded him with the usual sensation of curling excitement in her stomach. Every time she looked at him she thought her heart was too small to hold all the love she felt for him, and her emotions manifested themselves physically more often than not. He'd been through so much in this last week and a half; they both had been, but she knew the effects would linger with him for some time. Going back home might help to ease his remaining grief and the traces of guilt that stubbornly clung to it. They had so much to do to completely settle into their house, and she was impatient to start on it. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes, relaxing at Christian's side and listening to his quiet breathing. Eventually she fell asleep again, only to be slowly roused by someone's quiet voice in jordiska nearby.

She soon grew aware that it was Christian on his cell phone, but had no idea whom he was talking to. She stirred a little and he stopped in the middle of something he was saying, then chuckled softly and wound up his conversation. Then she felt his hand on her, slowly stroking her back. "Wake up, my Rose," Christian murmured in a gentle singsong. "I promised you we're going to refresh all those lessons we taught you."

Leslie cracked open one bleary eye and peered at him. "Sadist."

Christian snickered and settled back down beside her, weaving his fingers in her hair and gently massaging her scalp with his fingertips. Leslie released a blissful little sigh and closed her open eye, more than ready to go back to sleep. "None of that, my darling," said Christian in amusement. "It's almost nine and only six hours before the ceremony."

"Wake me up at noon," mumbled Leslie drowsily. Christian laughed, and she added as an afterthought, "Who were you talking to a minute ago?"

"Hmm, so you were awake after all," Christian remarked. "I was checking on things at my office here. Jörgen has asked me to come in if I possibly can, and I think I can spare him an hour or so if I leave here by ten. Do you want to come with me?"

That made Leslie open her eyes again. "Well, I've never seen your office here, so I think I might do that. Where's it located?"

"South side of the city. I'll probably give Rudolf's car another run…we haven't stirred from the castle much since the funeral, and it's been sitting for a good while now. Anyway, I promised him I'd fill the gasoline tank in exchange for the sightseeing trip." He sat up and indulged in a stretch before sliding off the bed.

"How much is gas around here?" Leslie wondered idly, rolling onto her back and going through a long yawn and stretch of her own.

"Cheaper than in most of Europe, actually," Christian said from across the room where he was going through his suitcase. "That's because of the Vikslunds and their oil empire. Their drilling platforms are visible in the distance from the northern coast, and they are the source of all our fuel here. They make their real money selling to other countries." His voice dropped to a surprised mutter. "Now what happened to that suit jacket?"

"Which one?" Leslie asked, hopping off the bed in her turn. "I sent one down to the laundry on Anna-Kristina's advice."

"Oh," said Christian. "I suppose in that case I'll have to wear a different suit. You don't need to dress in anything fancy, just wear something comfortable. You'll be wearing formal dress long enough this afternoon. If we hurry, we can stop at a café I know and have breakfast there."

They dressed quickly—Christian in business attire (minus a suit jacket after all) and Leslie in one of her favorite sundresses—and crossed the great entry, already being set up for the ceremony, to the southern wing of the castle. "What're we doing here?" Leslie asked.

"The garages are on the foundation level on this side," Christian said. "I see no reason to have the car brought around when we're perfectly capable of going to get it. It just occurred to me that I'll have to get a Fantasy Island driver's license too. Just as well, mine for here is about to expire." He removed his wallet from a back pocket and idly took a look at his current license. "Hmm, well, I suppose it will have to be the first order of business when we get home. This expires the day we arrive."

Leslie laughed. "There's timing for you. Can I see?"

"You've never seen a driver's license?" Christian kidded, but handed it to her anyway. It dated from five years back; the photo of Christian on it was just this side of murderous, and Leslie tried with only partial success to choke back a laugh.

"Who were you thinking of skewering when they took that picture?" she asked.

"Arnulf," said Christian, half grinning, "who else? I was on Fantasy Island when my last license expired, and had to get it renewed immediately upon returning home—by which time, of course, I'd discovered I'd been married to Marina. Needless to say, I was in what felt like a permanently foul mood. I think this time the photo will be better." Leslie laughed and handed the license back to him.

In a few minutes they were on the way down the coastal road that led to the turnoff for the city. Familiar as he was with the highways and byways here, Christian drove fairly fast, but was an extremely competent driver; and Leslie relaxed and enjoyed the ride, watching the ocean vista roll by at their right, the green countryside flashing past all around them, the many trees dappling the sunlight. It took about fifteen minutes to get to the city limits, whereupon Christian took another route that skirted the downtown area and soon arrived at a small freestanding office building in a fairly heavily settled business district. Leslie had been watching him with fascination for the last several miles of the ride, and when he finally noticed her scrutiny, he paused just before killing the engine. "What?"

"Just watching you drive," she said and smiled. "You look so natural doing it."

"And you thought it was funny when I watched you drive that time," he said, shaking his head and laughing. "I've said it before, but you're still priceless. Well, come in with me and I'll introduce you to my staff here."

In short order Leslie met half a dozen people in Christian's employ, most notably his longtime office manager, Jörgen Olofsson, a smiling man around fifty or so, with a receding hairline and a brisk manner. Once the introductions had been performed, Jörgen said, "We do have a small problem that requires your attention, Your Highness…"

Christian gave Leslie an apologetic look. "You'll have to excuse us, my Rose," he said, "we need to use jordiska for this. It looks to me as if Karla and Elisabeth over there want to ask you some questions." He grinned at two of his other employees, both of whom turned red at being caught out, but grinned back good-naturedly. "Go ahead and get acquainted. If we're lucky, this won't take very long." At her smile, he smoothed her hair once and then turned to Jörgen and asked him something in jordiska.

Leslie caught the eyes of Karla and Elisabeth and drifted in their direction, looking curiously around her as she did so. The office looked to be recently built, but there wasn't much for décor, and Leslie wondered if she should mention it to Christian. She grinned at the two women, who beamed back and invited her to sit with them. Leslie pulled up a chair in front of Elisabeth's desk and soon found herself answering excited questions about Fantasy Island, which she was more than happy to answer.

Then Karla said, "So now you are married to our Prince Christian! We always heard many things about you, but we never thought we would meet you. Is it really true, that soon he will no longer be a prince?"

"It's true," Leslie confirmed. "We were told it'll be maybe another two or three weeks, and then he'll be just another human being."

"I hope he has nice people working for him on Fantasy Island," Elisabeth said. "We always got along with him so well here, and we miss him. He's a very easy man to work for."

Leslie grinned. "That's how his Fantasy Island employees think of him too. I've known two of them personally since they were born—they're the younger brother and sister of a friend of mine—and they started calling him 'Boss Prince' when he finally came to the island and we got married. Christian got quite a laugh out of it." Karla and Elisabeth both laughed as well.

"Do you think he would fire us if we call him that?" Karla joked, bringing on more laughter. A couple of Christian's other employees, drawn by their banter, came to join them, and soon Leslie was very much at ease.

Some twenty minutes later Christian and Jörgen came over to investigate the lively conversation going on, and Leslie grinned at her husband's quizzical look. "This is such a nice group of people," she said. "You've got good folks working for you, my love."

"Yes, I do," Christian agreed, taking in his employees with a grin. "It's beginning to look like a party over here, and now that we've solved our little problem, I want to get in on it." Everyone laughed.

"But the coronation is today, isn't it?" Elisabeth asked. "The party tonight will be much bigger than anything we could hold. I heard it will be at Liljefors Slott."

"That it will," Christian confirmed, "thanks to my nephew's wife. They have the ballroom some forgetful ancestor of mine managed to omit at the castle. And now that you remind me, I'm afraid Leslie and I must get back there and start preparing."

Amid many goodbyes and well-wishes, Christian and Leslie got back on the road and stopped to fill Rudolf's gas tank before finding the café Christian had mentioned. Leslie was utterly stunned when they got there. "This is your café?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, why?" Christian asked.

"I've been here!" she told him, making his eyes go very wide. "The owners are the family of my friend Frida!" It was, indeed, Ebba's Café, owned by the Dannegård family, Frida's father and four half-siblings.

"I don't believe this," Christian said, staring at her. "When I lived here in the city, I used to eat here almost every morning before going to work. Now I really don't understand how I ever missed meeting you when you were here before. We should have run into each other. How did we manage not to?"

"Timing, maybe," suggested Leslie. "I came in the late morning…you must have already been and gone when I got here."

"That must be it," Christian agreed incredulously, shaking his head. "I have to tell you, though, hearing about that makes me want to simply strangle Fate to death." Leslie let out a laugh, and they got out of the car and walked into the café hand in hand.

It was quiet inside, with only two or three tables occupied, and Leslie and Christian both instantly recognized the dark-haired man busing another table. At their entrance he looked up, then straightened in astonished delight. "Prince Christian…and Leslie Hamilton! Welcome back! It's been far too long!"

"It's good to see you again, Lukas," Christian said, shaking hands. "But you can't tell me you don't know that Leslie's my wife."

Lukas Dannegård grinned sheepishly. "I did know, but in my surprise I forgot. I well remember her previous visit here. She brought us back my half-sister. Hello, Princess."

Leslie groaned. "This 'princess' stuff just seems completely wrong for me," she said, giving Christian a plaintive look that made him laugh. "Lukas, I told you to call me Leslie when I was here the first time, and I wish you still would."

"Then I will, and many thanks," Lukas said. "Please, sit anywhere. Anything you like, it's on the house. Don't argue with me, Your Highness. It feels like a special occasion, and since I know you have moved to Fantasy Island, it may very well be. It was always a pleasure to have you come to us for breakfast."

"Oh, all right," Christian grumbled good-naturedly, "but under protest, you realize. Why don't we sit here in the back, my Rose. We could use a little privacy."

They had a very enjoyable meal there in the café and talked a bit with Lukas as well. He regularly heard from his father and Frida, and told them that while Kristofer and Catarina Dannegård were now living near their daughter in Sweden, they all came to Lilla Jordsö for annual summer vacations. "We expect them in August as usual," Lukas said. "Frida's little daughter is an angel and my sisters are simply crazy about her. And so, Your Highness—I understand that today we will have a new queen! It quite startled us when the news came out last year that Princess Anna-Kristina had given the succession to Princess Gabriella. Did she explain why?"

Christian and Leslie took turns telling him the story of Anna-Kristina's realization that she had no wish and no real inclination to be queen, and Lukas nodded understanding. "I wish Princess Gabriella all the best," he said. "Perhaps one day she will come here and I can give her and Prince Elias the same service I used to provide you. We truly have missed you around here, Prince Christian. I am very happy you came back."

On their way back to the castle, Leslie grinned impishly at Christian. "The People's Prince," she said cheerfully. "Everyone I've met this morning seems to be crazy about you. Are you sure you want to give up your title?"

"I've had enough of life in a fishbowl," Christian said dismissively, grinning back. "I'd much rather be just Christian Enstad. Frankly, I can hardly wait to go home."

"Same here," Leslie agreed, squeezing his hand. "It's been a very interesting interlude, but it's time for us to get back."