§ § § -- March 26, 2000

By Sunday afternoon Leslie was exhausted from all her running around after Hera, and stumbled into the study after the seemingly tireless goddess. Hera regarded Roarke with a mixture of emotions, chief among which was frustration. While Leslie collapsed into a chair and slumped low with her arms dangling limply over the sides, Hera said, "I begin to understand your caveat, Roarke."

Roarke squelched a smile; Leslie saw it, but Hera seemed to have missed it. "Indeed?" he said.

"Indeed and then some. I cornered fourteen couples who were having arguments and told them to really think about what they were saying. I ran into six more couples actively threatening divorce and five others who had filed papers. And I beat some sense into two womanizers and a fickle floozy. So it's been a very long day for me…but I fear all my efforts have gone for naught."

"Which," said Leslie tiredly from her chair, "would turn out to be the biggest waste I ever witnessed."

"I am terribly sorry, Hera," said Roarke with sympathy. "I understand your distress, believe me. I myself have found it necessary to grant a few divorces right here on my very own island, and each time I find it a very sorrowful occasion. Woud that you could have been here at the time to try to make these couples see reason."

Hera looked offended. "Really, Roarke, you too? This divorce mania is simply out of control. It makes an absolute mockery of my specialty. I'm sure no other god or goddess is as badly abused as I. If it were possible, I'd leap from Olympus in my despair, but I can't. Pesky immortality."

"I am sorry, Hera," Roarke said again. "But I find myself wondering whether you've done any follow-up. If you dragged poor Leslie all over the island on a whirlwind tour of feuding couples, how do you know whether any of them considered your advice?"

Hera planted her fists on her hips and eyed him reproachfully. "Well, Roarke, that's your fault. You told me you'll have to end my fantasy this evening. How can you expect me to accomplish very much in such a short time span? Follow-up is quite out of the question, unless you extend the fantasy, or I get lucky and some of these couples seek me out."

Roarke noticed the amused grin on Leslie's face and gave her a look that fazed her not a bit. "Perhaps I could be persuaded to extend the fantasy to midnight, but I can't continue it beyond that. You understand."

"No, I confess I don't, but very well," Hera acceded crossly. "Now maybe, in your infinite knowledge, you might tell me where I can find all the people I contacted today."

Leslie spoke up, "You're likely to find them at the hotel. If you feel like a nice dinner, Chef Miyamoto can get you set up, and maybe some of those couples will find you. I recognized most of them as being vacationers without fantasies, maybe trying to recapture their happiness."

"Good advice, Leslie," Roarke said approvingly. "Then, by all means, Hera, good luck."

Hera threw her hands into the air in a gesture of futility and left the house. Roarke regarded Leslie with amused interest and remarked, "It seems you got in your share of exercise today."

"That's an understatement," said Leslie, evoking a soft chuckle from him. She glanced around the room and realized Roarke had been there alone. "Where's Christian?"

"Conducting more interviews," said Roarke. "If you'd like, you might go into town and let him know dinner will be served in about half an hour. He's at his office."

Leslie pushed herself out of the chair and cast a wary glance in the direction of the kitchen. "What's Mariki serving tonight?"

Roarke grinned. "I made her promise to refrain from adding any arsenic to Christian's food," he kidded.

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Thanks a lot, Father. I think the bigger worry here should be over someone putting arsenic in her food, if you get my drift."

"Now, Leslie," Roarke admonished. "Perhaps you should consider giving Mariki the benefit of the doubt. She has been on her very best behavior since that banana incident yesterday. I believe she's afraid to even speak to you."

"She should be," said Leslie heatedly. "There's such a thing as being too protective. I wish she and Kono had had kids. She needs someone else to mother."

"They did have children," said Roarke, straight-faced. "Ten of them."

She stared at him for a very long moment, her eyes filled with doubt; then she shook her head. "I don't believe it for one second," she announced and departed, leaving behind a broadly grinning Roarke.

Leslie found Christian just winding up an interview and paused unobtrusively near the entrance, watching Christian shake hands with the latest applicant. The man thanked Christian rather profusely and started for the door, at which point he made a motion as of tipping a hat. "Hello, Miss Leslie, good to see you."

She recognized him. "Mateo! It's been a while."

Mateo nodded a little sheepishly. "Well, you remember that accident I had that forced me to quit my job," he said. "The prince has just very graciously hired me as the manager of his branch office here. I can walk back and forth to work and not have to worry about another problem."

Leslie smiled. "We'll miss you, Mateo, but I'm glad you were able to get in here. I wish you the best."

"Thank you, Miss Leslie," said Mateo and left. She watched him go while Christian came up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You seem to know him," Christian observed. "He said an accident forced him to quit, but I didn't realize he was working for Mr. Roarke. What's the story?"

"Mateo's a native," Leslie said. "He's actually only a year or so older than I am. He was one of our regular drivers for years. Then last year he developed narcolepsy without warning—there was no hint of it till he fell asleep at the wheel of a utility vehicle and rammed a tree with it. The vehicle was totaled and Mateo was in the hospital for almost three months. He's lucky to be alive. But he came to us and quit his job because he was afraid he might eventually hurt one of us."

"I see," said Christian. "Was there no one he could rely on? Family who could have helped him?"

"Mateo's parents are both dead and he's never been married," Leslie said. "He lives by himself about midway down the island from here. He's a very nice guy and was one of our most dependable and hard-working employees. I'm glad you hired him, my love." She turned in his embrace and smiled up at him. "If you're done here, Father says dinner'll be ready shortly."

Christian, looking suddenly apprehensive, demurred, "Maybe I'd better eat at the hotel."

Leslie laughed. "I can't blame you, but Father seems to think Mariki's been well and truly put in her place. I guess we'll just have to take our chances, since I don't want him eating all alone at home."

Reluctantly Christian gave in. "All right, if only to save Mr. Roarke." Leslie grinned and slipped out, waiting for him to lock up before taking his hand and leading him to the jeep she had parked nearby. He was quiet all the way back, looking thoughtful and a little pensive, and Leslie wondered uneasily what was on his mind. He smiled at her when they reached the main house and wrapped an arm around her waist on their way to the table, but still didn't speak.

Not till Mariki had come out with the food did he clear his throat and say, "Well…I've done all the hiring I can do here. I have one more candidate that I'll probably hire, but the interview will be in Lilla Jordsö…so I'm going to have to go home in a few days, once I've shown Mateo the ropes."

Leslie went still and stared at him, her stomach free-falling. Roarke glanced at her, then said, "I see…we'll be sorry to see you go, Christian."

Just then Mariki set a dish on the table, and Leslie's attention shifted. "Well, there might be someone here who won't be."

Her tone made Mariki stop cold and close her eyes. "Excuse me," the cook said after a moment. "I have something for Prince Christian." She headed for the kitchen, with Leslie's suspicious eyes on her.

Christian resettled himself in his chair and remarked a little uneasily, "Well, I suppose this is the acid test. I deliberately waited to announce my departure until Mariki came out here, because I don't feel right about all this discord and I thought she would be happy to know I'm leaving."

"It's Mariki's fault, not yours," Leslie said flatly. "Christian, honey, I'm not certain she isn't going to do something else—"

"I've already mentioned there'll be no arsenic," Roarke teased, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "What are you so frightened of?"

"Hemlock," said Christian right on cue, and both Roarke and Leslie burst into laughter despite themselves.

A minute later Mariki returned with a small plate that she set in front of Christian. "This was meant to be dessert, but I thought it better to make a peace offering with it."

"What is it?" asked Leslie.

"Chocolate-cinnamon cake with vanilla-almond glaze," Mariki replied, apparently unwilling or unable to meet anyone's gaze. "I found the recipe online when I…uh, went looking for specialties from Prince Christian's country."

Roarke looked quite surprised; Leslie's mouth dropped open, and Christian did a double-take. "You went to all that trouble just for me?" he asked.

"I hope it's clean," said Leslie, still not quite trusting the cook after her long-standing grudge against Christian. "Mariki, really, this looks a little convenient…"

"Leslie," Roarke said reprovingly.

But Mariki looked up then and said, "Don't bother, sir. I perfectly understand her skepticism. Miss Leslie, all I can do is appeal to your sense of fair play. I've been watching you around Prince Christian all weekend since you caught my last dirty trick, and I have to admit, I've never seen you happier than when you're with him." She cleared her throat, shifted her weight and added with great reluctance, "Not only that, but Kono nearly garroted me when he found out I'd gotten into his moonshine stash."

Loud snickers broke out of Christian and Leslie at that, and in seconds they'd all broken down laughing, even Mariki. "Tell me, just how much did you put in Christian's banana yesterday, if Kono noticed there was some missing?" Leslie wanted to know.

Mariki shrugged, turning red. "About half a jug. And this is a jug." She held her hands about six inches apart, one over the other. "It's pretty potent."

"Yes, I learned that yesterday," said Christian, dryly but good-naturedly. "Mariki, let me assure you that it would be impossible for me to hurt Leslie. I found out the hard way that it hurts me just as much, if not more, when I do something like that. My marriage wasn't my fault, but trying to let Leslie go was solely my mistake and no one else's. I would die without her—it's as simple as that. So if you could find it in your heart to forgive and forget, I'll take the spiked banana in stride. I'll probably even laugh about it someday."

Mariki grinned broadly with relief. "Done, Your Highness." She stuck out her hand and shook with Christian, then cast a tentative glance at Leslie, who smiled.

"Thank you, Mariki," she said softly.

Roarke smiled with satisfaction and some relief of his own. "Peace around here at last," he said. "Now, shall we eat?" They laughed again and tucked into the meal.