§ § § -- January 10, 2002
Her exclamation made Christian straighten up and look around just as Leslie registered his presence, and they both lit up. "What are you doing here, my Rose?" Christian asked curiously, returning her delighted smile.
"I came over to ask Myeko something," Leslie said, glancing at her friend's computer, whose innards Christian had just finished exposing. "Uh-oh…I guess these things are down again." She caught Christian's expression and giggled. "How many this time?"
"All of them," he said, and her giggle turned into a laugh. "I just finished fixing Gordy's, and this one shouldn't take long, if my suspicions about it are correct." He set aside the screwdriver and leaned in toward her to steal a quick kiss. "Is it prying to ask what you want Myeko to do for you?"
"Old hat, my love," Leslie said, slipping her arm around him and addressing Myeko as well. "We've got this fantasy…somebody else who wants to be royalty for a weekend. The difference is, this one might actually be royal in real life. Here, take a look at these." She handed an intrigued Myeko the papers she carried, then turned to fully face Christian and smiled up at him. "Seems your day got off to a rollicking start."
"I suppose you could say that…if I only knew what 'rollicking' means," Christian said with faint puzzlement, and she snickered. They hugged each other close and he kissed the top of her head, then let her go with undisguised reluctance and turned his attention to Myeko's computer. Leaning down to examine the exhaust fan in the back, he prompted his wife, "So are you going to tell me or not?"
"Oh!" Leslie laughed. "It just means really lively. What do you think, Myeko?"
"This," Myeko announced, "is seriously cool. You think this guy really could be royalty? Hey, Christian, maybe you know him."
Christian grunted, amused. "Just because I was born royalty, I know every royal on earth? We're not all bosom buddies, Mrs. Okada." He glanced over his shoulder in time to catch Leslie's grin. "Where's he from, then?"
"He was raised in Greece, but it turns out he has Arcolosian ancestry. He claims to be related to Errico and his brothers. Gordy," Leslie said, attention distracted, "are you busy tomorrow morning? Father sent me here to ask you if you'd mind doing some shots for us. Not only that, but Myeko, he'd like you to check into some archives on the Internet when you get a chance and see if you can dig up any missing-person reports involving the Arcolosian royal family."
"Hey, no problem," Gordy assured her, rising and crossing the room to Myeko's desk. "I hope it's okay if I get a look at those papers."
"Go ahead," Leslie agreed, her hand resting absently on Christian's back as he disconnected some wires and coaxed the exhaust fan loose. "It's this guy's hope just to be accepted by the family, if it turns out he's really related to them. Maybe Arcolos doesn't have the storied history of certain other small monarchies, but I know one thing, they have their share of royal excitement."
"Leslie, my Rose, if you leave that hand where it is, I'll never finish my work," Christian warned humorously, and she gave him a wicked look and threaded her fingers through his hair before withdrawing her hand. He laughed softly and went on, "Even if he really is related to them, I suspect they won't just blithely welcome him in as some long-lost cousin. We never had anyone try to pull that little stunt on us, but then we never had any family members go missing to become 'long-lost'." Christian got the fan loose and straightened, poking at the blades and squinting at the connecting wires. "However, I do seem to remember some story Anna-Laura told once about the lone son of King Erik X nearly being the victim of a Lindbergh-style kidnapping."
"Really?" Leslie asked, wide-eyed. "What happened to him?"
"According to the story, Erik was in what's now the atrium. He saw the kidnappers making their run for it, with the infant prince's nanny in pursuit, and quite calmly took his bow, leaned out a window and shot an arrow into the kidnapper carrying the baby. It was quite enough to foil the attempt." Christian delivered all this with a perfect poker face, still with his main attention on the fan, and looked up only when the silence began to drag out. "What, you don't believe me?"
"I don't think you believe it yourself, my love," Leslie remarked, amused.
"It's a wonder he didn't kill the kid," Gordy observed.
"That's disgusting," Myeko pronounced. "Just really gross, Christian."
Christian shrugged. "It's probably apocryphal. After all, it's the Eriks." He grinned at Leslie, who burst out laughing. Gordy and Myeko looked blankly at each other, and Leslie and Christian, taking note, shared a look of bright-eyed conspiracy before he grew serious and displayed the fan at Myeko. "This is your problem—the fan's stopped working. If there's no way to carry waste heat out of the tower, the computer will simply stop running. When it does stop, of course, the heat isn't generated and the machine cools down enough that it can operate again…so it reboots automatically and runs till too much heat builds up and the process begins again. That's why you've been watching it turn itself on and off."
"Oh," said Myeko. "Do you have a replacement?"
"Yes, by some sheer stroke of luck, I do have one," Christian said. "I'd better call Julianne and tell her to make an order for at least another dozen of these, because the new computers are being made with different designs and soon this model will be obsolete. If the paper doesn't replace these machines, you'll likely be looking for more replacement fans in the future. My Rose, are you due somewhere else, or do you actually have the time to loiter around here and distract me while I'm trying to work?"
Leslie pretended offense. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Christian Enstad?"
"Who, me?" Christian said and grinned again. "I just thought you might get into trouble. I don't care how much you hang around me, I'm happy about it. But since it looks as if you're finding yourself at loose ends, maybe you could make that call to Julianne for me. My hands are full." He was digging in the briefcase again.
"Good Lord, Christian, that's the biggest mess I've ever seen," Leslie said, staring at it in amazement. "And this from the original Neatnik Prince."
Gordy laughed aloud. "You've been busted, Christian."
"Looks that way," Christian said and chuckled, unpacking a replacement fan.
Gordy picked up the papers Leslie had given Myeko and riffled through them, then looked curiously at the Enstads. "Say, Leslie, you figured out yet what you and Christian are doing for your anniversary next week?" he asked idly.
Leslie let out a tiny chuckle. "We had quite a serious discussion last night about our chances of keeping it low-key. It's our first wedding anniversary, and we really thought for a little while that we could get away with making it a private thing, but then we realized we didn't stand a chance. There's no doubt in my mind that someone, somewhere on this island, is planning an overblown foodfest even as I speak."
"That someone being Mariki, the food freak," Christian commented, connecting wires inside Myeko's tower. "Quite strange…she actually stopped nagging us for two weeks, and then yesterday she was back to her old complaints. I had begun to think a small miracle had happened. I should have known better."
"Father probably told her to knock it off," Leslie said, "otherwise she wouldn't have restrained herself nearly that long."
Myeko laughed. "Really, you guys, you can't expect the island to let your anniversary go by without some kind of fanfare. You've been married a year, and it's like a milestone. Can't you just let everybody congratulate you and have a little fun with it? I mean—it's the post-holiday blahs. We're not getting a long weekend till Easter and that's not till March thirty-first. So give us a reason to celebrate."
Christian gave Leslie an ironic look. "So now we're to be a public holiday." Leslie grimaced; Gordy laughed and Myeko rolled her eyes. Christian, shaking his head, started replacing the tower housing. "Oh, to be a nobody."
"Aw, come on, Christian, that's no fun," Gordy said cheerfully. "There have to be somebodies out there, or people like me and Myeko wouldn't have jobs. Well, actually Myeko, not so much me. You're the first really famous person I ever got to photograph."
"Lucky me," said Christian dryly, tightening the final screw. "Well, that's two. Now then, who needs his computer more urgently, Bud or Kevin?"
Bud flapped a hand in Kevin's direction. "Go ahead and take care of his first. My phone's keeping me plenty busy over here."
"Well enough. Look, Gordy, believe me, I'm thrilled for you that you're getting the magazine offers," Christian said as he crossed the room to Kevin's desk, "and it's nothing against you; but to be completely honest, if I never see another celebrity photographer again, I'll die happy. No one has bothered Leslie and me since my brother's funeral last summer, and it's been quite peaceful; I've had to stay on the island since we came back from Lilla Jordsö because I officially lost my citizenship there on August first and won't get Fantasy Island citizenship until next Wednesday. Without a passport I can't take any international trips, even for business. It's turned out to be a blessing in disguise. No demands for interviews, no shutterbugs popping out of the shrubbery to record my face on camera…you can't imagine how wonderful that is, for someone who's had some level of fame all his life as I have. I almost got away with living a very quiet life…and then the arranged-marriage story came out, and that was the end of the anonymous jordisk prince."
"Hey, no problem, Christian," Gordy said, a little surprised at the former prince's long, fairly impassioned narrative, which he had delivered while he took Kevin's computer tower apart. "You know me, I'd never take any pictures of you or Leslie without asking your permission."
Christian looked up for a moment and smiled apologetically. "I was speaking in generalities, Gordy, not necessarily about you. But," he went on, turning back to the tower, "I have to admit that I wonder if that's the kind of thing you really want to do for a living. You can't tell me you haven't heard about celebrity tantrums against persistent paparazzi, and if you want the brutal truth, I was on the celebrities' side."
"I don't blame you," Gordy told him immediately. "Seriously, Christian, I didn't set out with the intention of being a paparazzo. Just wanted to be a regular news photographer and do the whole 'serious journalism' thing. It's just that it's those shots I took of you and Leslie right after your wedding last year that got me all this attention."
Christian was disengaging Kevin's motherboard. "Oh, I know that, and I understand. But I have to tell you that I don't see the connection between getting shots of famous people and forging a career in photographic journalism. Or is that journalistic photography?"
Gordy snickered, struck as he so often was by Christian's sense of humor. "I don't either, but hey, whatever gets my foot in the door. Besides, not all the offers were for jobs taking celeb shots. I might try living in Canada for a while. There were a couple of newspapers up there that made really tempting offers."
"Ah, I see. Well, then, happy choosing." Christian shook his head. "Your motherboard is fine, Kevin. Maybe your problem is your habit of boxing with your computer. Let me see if I can find something out of place in here." He reinstalled the motherboard and squinted into the tower, while Leslie wound up a conversation with Myeko and wandered over to stand beside her husband.
"Boxing with his computer?" she echoed, making Christian look up and laugh.
Kevin grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well…y'see, Mrs. Enstad, I kinda let it slip that I have to apply my fists a couple times a day to remind it who's boss. Now I think Mr. Enstad's feeling sorry for the stupid thing."
Christian and Leslie both laughed. "My Rose," Christian said, "I think there's a small flashlight in my briefcase…would you look for it for me, please?"
"I'm going to need a guide dog to navigate my way through that mess," Leslie teased him, patting his shoulder. "But I'll give it my best shot." She went back to search through the briefcase, and Christian stood up straight, tipping backward slightly to ease the strain on his back from bending over. He was trying to massage his lower back with his thumbs when she returned with the flashlight; he saw her and froze, staring in disbelief.
"How did you find that so quickly?" he exclaimed.
Leslie grinned. "Pure, unadulterated luck, my love. Are you okay?"
"I'll survive, I've just been leaning over too many computers. Let's see what's in here. I just thought of this, Leslie…when you go back to the main house, you might think about discreetly dropping some questions at Mr. Roarke as to whether he's heard any rumors about turning our anniversary into a bloated party, as they did our wedding reception." Christian aimed the flashlight beam into the tower.
"Do I have to? I'd rather not know, if there really is something in the works," Leslie protested mildly. "That way, if we decide to hide in our own home, we can always say we had no idea what was happening when people yell at us for not showing up."
"Oh, seriously, you can't do that," Gordy blurted. "Look, we could make you a deal. If you let everybody on the island make a big fuss over you this year, then next year we'll leave you completely alone and you can do whatever you want on your second anniversary."
Christian and Leslie eyed him, then each other, then both started to laugh. "I can't decide if I should be tempted by that offer," Christian said.
"Me either," Leslie agreed mirthfully. "Actually, I think it's leading to a plea to be the one who takes pictures of us at whatever overdone party we wind up attending. I mean, no matter what they do, the paper's going to be covering it."
"Well, if you'll let us talk this over," Christian said to Gordy, "we'll give you the verdict later. Let me finish up here, my Rose, and then I can take you back with me. I've already been here nearly two hours, and since I still have one more computer to look at, we may as well make plans to have lunch together."
Leslie nodded agreement and said, "I can go for that. Since you accused me of distracting you earlier, I'll just go bug Myeko for a while and let you get to work."
Gordy ensconced himself back at his desk and brought up his e-mail account while Christian continued to examine Kevin's computer and Leslie chatted with Myeko. He was feeling very good about things right now; it was exciting to think of all the possibilities that had suddenly opened up for him. To his amazement, he found several more offers in his e-mail account, and looked through them with sheer wonder. He'd been a shutterbug since he was old enough to squint through a viewfinder, and now it was a heady feeling to find that his favorite hobby could finally start earning him some serious money. As it happened, while most of the offers stemmed from the pictures he had taken of Christian and Leslie for Myeko's article, there were some that had dug up years-old copies of the Chronicle, either online or in archives, and had seen some much older photographs he'd taken for assorted news stories. He even had one offer from France which had stemmed not just from his pictures of the Enstads, but from his photographs of Tattoo's wedding on the island almost nineteen years before.
In all honesty, Gordon Paul Strassner had never been overly ambitious, but he was definitely a dreamer. He was going to be 45 this year and it was a terrific feeling to see those dreams finally beginning to come true. Growing up a military brat, he'd lived in at least fifteen states during his childhood; he'd been born in Klamath Falls, Oregon, just about the time his then-twenty-year-old father had enlisted in the Air Force. Before Gordy's first birthday they'd been stationed in Texas, and from then on had made quite the whirlwind tour of Air Force bases around the country and even beyond it. Gordy had fond memories of his dad's stint in Alaska; it had been a treasure trove of amazing nature shots and had given him a lot of experience in learning to use a camera. When Gordy was fifteen, the Strassners had been transferred to Coral Island AFB and had remained long enough for both Gordy and his younger sister to graduate from Fantasy Island High School. By then he'd seen some opportunities and had been sending pictures in to the island newspaper, a few of which had been published as curiosities in the paper's Humanities section. Tonya, his sister, had just started college on the mainland and Gordy had just been hired onto the paper's staff when his father had been transferred once more; it had felt strange to stay behind, to know where he was going to be for the indefinite future, but it had given him the chance to start making real friends for the first time.
He'd taken any assignment the paper had given him throughout his employment; the paper had a couple of other regular photographers on staff, but Gordy's shots were of a consistent quality and thus he was kept a good bit busier than they were. Since he had started out in Humanities, his desk was in their section, and he liked it there; it was a genial and informal place, and he liked his co-workers. They all knew about his hypoglycemia and teased him relentlessly about it; he took it in the spirit it was intended and always teased them right back about one thing or another. He still remembered the reporter with whom he'd gone to cover Tattoo's wedding; the woman hadn't really understood the nature of his condition, and had been forever saying she wished she had it as well so that she could control her weight. Gordy had taken that in stride too. He'd always been easygoing and accepting, and her comments had just rolled right off him; but he'd had to admit he didn't miss her when she took a different job and moved off-island.
It had been at the wedding that he'd first met Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie in person. It had been clear to him from the outset that all three were quite close; he'd noticed that poor Leslie had been crying her eyes out when Roarke brought her back for the group portrait that the reporter had wanted to headline her story. Two years later he'd photographed Leslie's wedding to Teppo Komainen, and it had been as much of a shock to him as anyone else when she had returned in 1990, newly widowed and needing support in her heavy grief. He'd liked her very much; she had gently teased him at her first wedding about leaving some of the buffet for the other guests, and had even cheerfully agreed to a dance with him during the reception. It was good to see her so happy now with Christian. He thought of her as a friend, and when she had married Christian and he'd started having to come over on a regular basis to effect computer repairs, he'd ventured congratulations to the prince, who had smilingly accepted. Then he'd gone out on a limb and told an anecdote about Leslie at Tattoo's wedding, getting Christian's intrigued attention and making him ask how he knew that; from then on they'd forged a friendship and often chatted whenever Christian came in to keep their aging machines running.
He was printing e-mails when he noticed Christian starting to put Kevin's tower back together. "Find the problem?" he asked.
Christian shook his head. "Everything looks fine. I did nudge a small part back into place, but other than that I couldn't see anything wrong. If you ask me, it's simple old age in this case. Kevin, I'm going to look at Bud's computer…boot yours up and let me know what happens, all right?" The young reporter nodded and watched Christian reattach the housing, then got his computer going while Christian crossed the room to Bud's machine and began tinkering there. In a moment Kevin called out that his machine was working, and Christian nodded with satisfaction.
Myeko looked around Leslie. "Bud and his coffee," she said.
"What?" Christian asked distractedly, twisting screws loose.
"What about my coffee?" Bud growled at her.
"I've heard you complain any number of times about spilling it," Myeko said with a sly grin. "Your computer's probably just burned out from running on caffeine."
Christian stared at her. "I hope you're joking!"
"How would that be possible?" asked Leslie.
Still smirking, Myeko said, "He has a habit of setting his coffee cups on top of the tower. Come on, Bud, 'fess up."
Bud rolled his eyes. "Gads. Don't listen to her, Mr. Enstad, she's a troublemaker. Has been from the get-go." Then he hesitated. "Or is it possible for liquids to seep through the housing and inside the tower?"
Christian gave him a long incredulous stare while Leslie and Myeko sat trying, with only a little success, not to laugh. Finally he said, "Listen, my friend, if there really is coffee in that tower, it's all over. You'll have to hold a funeral." That was enough to make the two women explode with merriment; Gordy and Kevin looked at each other and joined in. Christian, remarkably straight-faced, gave a long-suffering sigh and finished removing the housing while Bud watched with an uneasy look on his face. Everyone looked on, watching Christian pull up a chair that sat near Bud's desk and then stare at something inside the tower. They were so intent on him that when Bud's phone rang, everyone jumped, Christian included. The curse he muttered made them all laugh again, and Bud had to clear his throat loudly before he could pick up the phone.
"So what's the verdict, my love?" Leslie finally asked with interest.
Christian focused on her. "Come over here, my Rose, and look at this." He waited till she had paused beside his chair; then he looked at her and said with all apparent seriousness, "If this ever happens to any computer you come in contact with, don't expect me to come and resuscitate it."
She leaned over, peered into Bud's tower, and then looked at Christian. "If this ever happens to any computer I come in contact with, you'd better find another scapegoat—you know I don't drink coffee." That made Christian thump his elbow on Bud's desk and drop his chin into his hand with an I give up expression; his wife burst out laughing. "Seriously, my love, is there anything you can do for the patient?"
Christian made a noise in the back of his throat and shrugged. "It's as Myeko said: this thing has essentially overdosed on caffeine. I've never seen anything like this before. Wasn't he threatening Kevin about equipment liability? I'm afraid it's his paycheck that's going to be garnished for damages instead. I could clean this thing out, but I'd have to charge extra, and I couldn't guarantee it would work again. How many cups of coffee does he spill each day, Myeko?"
Myeko was weak with laughter by now. "He drinks coffee almost as much as Gordy eats. I'd say he knocks his cup over at least a couple times a week. Most of the time it's close to empty by then, but yesterday he tipped over a full one. Which was sad, since that was one of the few times the pot was working right and the coffee was actually good."
This time even Christian laughed, examining the small dark pool that lay in the bottom of the tower. "Maybe there's some hope. It doesn't seem to have actually destroyed anything, which is very fortunate. I hope someone's got napkins."
Kevin promptly yanked open a drawer and brought him a small stack. "Help yourself, Mr. Enstad. Holy smoke, willya look at that!" This earned him a very dirty look from Bud that sent him backing off toward his desk with his hands in the air; Christian, shaking his head yet again, began gingerly mopping up whatever was still in liquid state and asked Leslie to bring him the briefcase again. It took him another fifteen minutes to clean out the tower to his satisfaction and check over the components before replacing the housing and watching Bud's machine come back to life.
"That's it, I think," he said, putting tools back in the briefcase and scraping loose papers into it so he could close it. "Although if your computer is sluggish, Bud, you're just going to have to break it of its caffeine habit cold turkey." Amid the laughter and Bud's groan, he grinned and stood up, sliding his arm around Leslie. "Are you ready, then?"
"Just waiting for you," she said and smiled. "Myeko, if you dig up anything, just send us an e-mail. Father'll do whatever's required after that." Myeko nodded, and Christian and Leslie bid everyone goodbye and departed together.
They strolled down the quiet hallway and looked at each other. "Do you think we could get away with going somewhere other than the main house for lunch?" Christian asked thoughtfully. "Perhaps the café? Maybe even home…?"
Leslie regarded him with interest. "How long a lunch hour are you thinking of taking? Father did tell me to take as long as I needed, and I have only one more thing to do before I go pick up the mail and sort it out. You look exhausted already, my darling."
"I am," he admitted with a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. "Usually I have to attend to only one machine at a time. How they managed to coordinate their computer woes like that simply escapes me."
Leslie considered it, then smiled and suggested, "What if we arrange for the afternoon off? We're going to have a busy weekend; we've worked steady five-day workweeks since we came back from Lilla Jordsö last summer; and we haven't even scheduled our next vacation yet. Father mentioned how slow today was going to be when I got in this morning, and it shouldn't be a problem for you, since you're the boss."
"Yeah, Boss Prince, to be exact," said Christian with weary humor, and she grinned. "I like the idea very much. We'll stop at my office, then let Mr. Roarke know, and if he doesn't mind, then the day is ours." The prospect made them smile at each other with anticipation, and forgetting where they were, they paused in the parking lot and kissed.
"You two are just begging for exposure," said someone, and they broke to see Gordy approaching them with a paper in his hand. "You dropped this on the way out, Christian, and I thought you might need it."
Leslie started to laugh. "Now I know how we're spending the day, my love—cleaning out that briefcase!"
"Not before I clean your clock, Leslie Enstad, if you don't stop," Christian shot back, but he was grinning. He accepted the page from Gordy and tossed him the tail end of the grin. "Thanks, friend. Have a good day, and make sure Bud stops feeding his tower that sludge he passes off for coffee." Gordy roared with laughter and watched them settle into the car and drive away.