§ § § - July 26, 2008

Not till two weeks later, though, did Leslie personally hear anything from any of her friends in regard to Michiko, and that was because Tabitha appeared again, this time in the middle of Roarke and Leslie's lunch, looking agitated. "Have you heard from her?" were the first words out of Tabitha's mouth.

Leslie restrained a wry smile; she knew exactly whom Tabitha was talking about. "No, Tabitha," she said patiently, "nothing."

"It's been over two weeks," Tabitha announced, yanking out the chair Christian usually sat in, which was vacant at the moment as something had held him up at his computer-repair shop. "I know we have to give her time, but even under the circumstances, having her hide out like this without a single word to a soul is just not normal. It's not healthy." She fixed Leslie with a stare that made Leslie flinch back slightly. "It's time for her welcome-home party, and I'm going to round up the girls - anybody who wants to help me plan it - and get it going. She needs to come out and reconnect."

"A party?" exclaimed Susanna before Leslie could gather her wits enough to react. "Can all us kids come too? Please?"

Leslie peered at her daughter, then eyed Tabitha and drawled, "Well, Tabitha, since you seem to have elected yourself chief party planner, what's the verdict?"

Tabitha recovered nicely, executing an amiable shrug. "Fine with me, everybody's kids are welcome. I hope you're not too busy this weekend, because I think you should be in on this. Fair warning, Mr. Roarke." She barely glanced at an amused Roarke before shoving Christian's chair back and standing up. "Make sure you have your phone on you at all times. For now, I'm going to get Myeko and Maureen and Camille and Katsumi off their lazy behinds and tell them it's party time. I'll be in touch." With that, she half-ran off the porch, while Leslie watched her go, a little bemused.

"What kind of party will it be, Mommy?" Karina wanted to know.

"I have no idea, sweetie," Leslie admitted with a wry little grin at her four-year-old daughter. "I guess I'll find out soon enough." She cast Roarke a look that made him chuckle.

"Well, if she's gonna let us kids come," Susanna said cheerfully, "I hope there's lots of good food to eat."

"But no pears," Tobias spoke up then, making a face. "Pears have sand in 'em."

Leslie giggled and Roarke grinned at this statement. "I'll pass the word along," Leslie promised her son and gestured to his plate. "Right now, you need to eat what's in front of you, before you get in trouble."

"Where's Daddy?" Tobias wanted to know, taking a big bite out of an apple half.

"Still at work," said Leslie. "He'll be here when he can. What other food do you think they should have at the party?"

The triplets were contributing enthusiastic suggestions when Christian finally put in an appearance, taking the steps by twos and jogging across the porch. "My apologies for being so late," he said, taking his seat. "If it weren't for certain overly choosy customers, I'd retire and simply be chairman of the board of this company, and leave the website designing entirely up to Julianne. Have I missed anything crucial?"

"No," Leslie said with a knowing grin to herself. "You certainly wouldn't think it was crucial, anyhow; let's put it that way."

"Mrs. Ordoñez is gonna have a party for Queen Michiko," Susanna informed her father excitedly. "And Mommy said we could help pick the stuff they have to eat."

"But not pears," Tobias insisted again, around a mouthful of apple. "Pears have sand in 'em, Daddy. So tell Mrs. Ordoñez no pears."

Christian froze long enough to stare at his son with wide-eyed disbelief, a smile plucking at the corners of his mouth. "Pears don't have sand in them."

"They do too," Tobias shot back in a strident voice. "It makes my teeth grumble." He turned to Roarke as though for validation. "Pears do have sand in 'em, don't they?"

Roarke winked at his grandson. "Yes, they seem to, now that you mention it."

"See, tol'ja so," Tobias said, smirking. "Gran'father said, and he knows everything."

Leslie hid a snicker behind her hand and Christian grinned. "It's not sand, son, it's just part of the pear." To Leslie, he said, "So when does she intend to have this party?"

"I don't know yet, she's only just started planning it and warned me to be sure I have my phone on me at all times. I admit to having some hope we'll be busy this weekend."

Christian laughed and set about filling a plate. "Well, perhaps if you ask nicely, Mr. Roarke can accommodate you. What are the plans for the afternoon?"

As it happened, Leslie didn't get a call till after the triplets had been sent to bed for the night and Christian, who had had a long day at his office, was yawning and stretching as though preparing to follow them. She checked her phone ID and snorted. "Fine time to call," she muttered and answered with some reluctance. "Hi, Tabitha."

"Everybody thinks the party's a great idea," Tabitha said immediately, her voice a rush of excitement. "We'll have it here at our house so we can finally christen that new deck we gave ourselves last Christmas. Tell Christian husbands are invited too."

"Uh-huh," Leslie responded dryly, meeting Christian's heavy-lidded gaze. "When do you plan to have it?"

"Monday evening," said Tabitha. "And you'd both better be there. Bring the kids if you like, but if you have to drag your husband by the hair, make sure he comes too."

"Monday evening?" Leslie echoed in surprise. "Kinda short notice, don't you think?"

"Not at all. She's been sequestered much too long and it's time for her to come out. So like I said, bring your family. Did the kids come up with food ideas?"

"Oh, anything goes, except pears. Tobias won't eat them - he doesn't like the gritty feel of them in his mouth. Are you guys cooking, or what?"

"Maureen offered to cater for us. Wasn't that sweet? I'll pass on the message about the pears. Our house, six in the evening, okay? See you then!" She hung up instantly.

Leslie eyed her phone for a moment before terminating her end of the call and sighing to herself. "That was fast work."

Christian yawned again before peering suspiciously at her from under his drooping eyelids. "I take it Tabitha's party has come to fruition?"

Leslie nodded and gave him a wry grin. "We have a social obligation for Monday at six, and I'm told you're required to be there."

She waited for his usual grumbling response, but for once he was quiet, closing his eyes and sitting still for a moment, then hitching one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "All right. Did she say who's supposed to bring Michiko?"

"No, but she didn't ask us to either, so I guess someone else is doing it." She watched him yawn again and grinned. "Go on to bed, Sleepy."

"Gladly," Christian murmured, though he didn't budge from his slouching posture on the loveseat near the stairs. "Come with me."

"You know I can't." Roarke was out and had asked Leslie to hold down the fort till he returned. "But it probably won't be much longer anyway."

"Then I'll wait here with you," he said, or rather slurred, his voice all but dying as he let his head slump to one side. Leslie grinned, got out of Roarke's chair and gave Christian's dark hair a good tousling.

That, of course, woke him right up. "Hey, stop that," he protested, annoyed, swatting her hands away. "Who are you to interrupt my nap?"

"Go to bed," Leslie said, leaning down to drop a kiss on his lips. "That's an order. If you sleep on that sofa, your neck and back will be killing you in the morning."

"Must you remind me of my relentless aging?" he grumbled, but pushed himself to his feet and started for the stairs. "Well enough, but try not to be long."

"I'll send Father a telepathic message telling him to get back here right now," Leslie said, earning a dirty look from him that made her grin. "Just go get some sleep. I'll be there when I get there."

Christian plodded up the stairs, and while she slit open envelopes, she absently listened to the sounds he made getting ready for bed. He had been silent for a while, and she was getting well into the latest stack of fantasy-request letters, when there came a knock on the door. She threw an incredulous glance at the grandfather clock before tucking a letter back into its envelope and calling, "Come in."

Her visitor turned out to be Michiko, surprising her greatly. "Wow. What brings you here at this hour?"

"I can't sleep," Michiko admitted, letting herself into the study and sinking into one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. "I told Mama-san I was going out for a walk, but that was almost an hour ago. I really haven't been getting much sleep since I came back, to be honest with you."

"Too much on your mind?" Leslie prompted.

Michiko shrugged. "I guess. I'm almost ready to rent my own apartment, even without my things here. Mama-san's place is just too small, and I'm already sick of living out of my suitcases."

"Did you make any progress on that house you want to build?" queried Leslie, settling back as if for a long siege.

"I'm still drawing up my ideas, but at least I was able to contact the architect you and Christian used. He said he's ready anytime I am. But I can't seem to get myself motivated. I mean, I've known for a long time what I want, but there's nothing driving me to get it done anytime soon, not even trying to stay out of my own way in Mama-san's apartment."

Something uneasy stirred deep within Leslie, and she considered for a moment before she decided to go ahead and mention it. "You're aware that Tabitha and the other girls are having a welcome-home party for you at the Ordoñezes' house on Monday."

Michiko's dark almond eyes flicked up for just a second to meet hers, as if mildly surprised by this. "Oh, that's nice, I guess. Well, it'll be nice to see the rest of the gang."

Leslie leaned forward, and in spite of herself a few lines from an old song scrolled through her head. Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong / You're enchained by your own sorrow… That uneasiness squirmed in her gut and she wondered what it would take to pull her friend out of the doldrums. "Michiko, are you sure you're all right? Look, if you don't want to go to the party, just call up Tabitha and tell her so."

"Oh goodness, no. If she's already got it set up, I wouldn't want to make her waste all that effort. No, it's okay." Michiko seemed to go limp in the chair, her eyes losing focus and her voice drifting into a monotone.

In your eyes / There is no hope for tomorrow…

The line jolted Leslie into sitting up straight, which seemed to catch Michiko's attention. While she had it, Leslie pinned her friend with a look. "Dammit, Michiko, something's wrong." That song, she discovered, wouldn't let go. How I hate to see you like this / There is no way you can deny it… "You need to talk to me. You need to talk to someone, anyway, and as long as you're here, it might as well be me. I know you'll be grieving for Errico a very long time, and that's perfectly understandable. But I think there's more to it than having just been widowed. You need to tell me what's really going on. I'll help you if I can, but I can't do it unless you talk to me."

With no warning at all, Michiko smashed a fist onto the chair arm with enough force to make Leslie recoil in her own seat. "I have nothing to do! This is home, but there's no place for me here! I'm a queen with no king, no country, no home. No purpose. All I do is eat and sleep and take walks in the middle of the night. What am I going to do with myself?"

Leslie stared at her for a long speechless moment, her mind racing. You were always sure of yourself / Now I see you've broken a feather / I hope we can patch it up together. She gave her head a few hard, rapid shakes and knocked it against the heel of her hand, as if trying to expel water out of her ear. Michiko eyed her. "What's the matter?"

Leslie chuckled and shifted in the chair. "That song 'Chiquitita' by ABBA started scrolling through my head a few minutes ago and it won't go away. The thing is, it just fits this situation so perfectly. Anyway, consider what you used to do while you were Errico's wife, even before you became queen of Arcolos. You're still running your children's foundation, aren't you?"

"The Worldwide Orphans' Fund? Of course." Michiko began to toy with a pen that lay on the desk. "But that doesn't take much. It practically runs itself and barely needed me for any kind of supervision. I traveled a lot on behalf of king and country, but that's over now. I don't mind that - I can use a rest - but I already miss it a little. And I don't have a reason to do it anymore. I'm not trained to hold down any sort of a job. I don't really have to, but it'd keep me occupied. It's just that I can't do anything."

Leslie shot her a disgusted look. "Oh, you can too. You can sing."

"The Singing Queen," scoffed Michiko. "No thank you."

"You could teach students to sing," Leslie said, her patience beginning to fray, though she hid it the best she could. "You know how it is on this island - there are never enough art and music teachers. If you think you need qualification to be considered, then go for it, but in your case, with your history, it could possibly be waived."

"That'd make headlines," Michiko snorted. "From queen to teacher?"

Leslie stared at her, and Michiko stared expectantly back, as if waiting for the next suggestion to shoot down. But Leslie had had enough. "Michiko, if you're just going to nix every idea I have, there's no point in continuing this. Maybe while you're walking back to your mother's place, you should think about it yourself and find an idea of your own, if you don't like any of mine." She drew in a breath, trying to pretend she hadn't noticed Michiko's stunned expression. "Do you need a ride to Tabitha's on Monday?"

After a moment Michiko stood up, her delicate features icing over. "No, I can find my own way there, thanks anyway." She headed for the door.

"Michiko -" Leslie began, but her friend walked right out without looking back, and Leslie let out a heavy sigh and dropped back in the chair. I guess I blew that one, she thought dismally, and wandered out to the terrace, trying to find a little solace in listening to a night crier calling from a nearby tree.

† † †

In the morning Roarke and Christian took note of her subdued demeanor, though the triplets seemed oblivious. They let it go till Noelle Tokita, that weekend's babysitter, came to collect Susanna, Karina and Tobias for a carefully supervised visit to the resort pool, which had recently had a children's wading pool added to it; the triplets were excited and gave each parent hasty, perfunctory hugs before falling into place around Noelle's feet like a band of wild ducklings.

Then Roarke inquired, "What's bothering you, Leslie? You were almost as quiet last night when I got back."

"And you didn't wake me up when you came to bed," Christian added.

"You were so knocked out, you never would've woken up anyway," she told him with a quirk that was meant to pass for a grin. At his amused shrug, she focused on her father. "I had a little visit from Michiko, and it didn't end very well."

"Oh?" Roarke prompted, and with that she explained to them both what had taken place the previous night. They listened without speaking till she had finished, then looked at each other before Roarke half-smiled and asked unexpectedly, "What are your thoughts, Christian?"

Christian's astonished expression made Roarke and Leslie laugh, and he threw Leslie a dirty look and rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right, if you're serious about knowing. It's classic. I saw it in my sister when we all thought Esbjörn had died. She had no interest in doing anything, even the things she had been most passionate about. Even her historical group held no allure for her, and once she asked me to stand in for her. But that's another story entirely. My point is that from the sound of it, Michiko is showing all the usual symptoms of depression caused by mourning. She was apparently looking for someone to solve her problem for her, and got upset when you couldn't. You'll just have to give her more time, I'm afraid. She's the only one who can get herself through this."

"Well said, Christian," Roarke said approvingly. "Do you agree, Leslie?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that occurred to me last night while I was trying to fall asleep. I think she wants to do something, but even she doesn't know just what. And it's not something somebody else can figure out for her."

"No," Roarke agreed, "it's a decision she must make for herself, no matter how much help she wants, or thinks she needs. Just try to be patient with her, Leslie. Only time will heal her, and no one in the world knows how much of that she will need."

§ § § - July 28, 2008

The Omamaras, Knights and Enstads gathered around Christian and Leslie's car, in a mild funk after what had turned out to be a resounding fiasco. "What a crappy party," Camille complained in disgust. "Tabitha almost singlehandedly ruined it, after all the hyping she did and all her badgering about us helping her plan it and making sure we showed up. And then Michiko doesn't even bother."

"Okay, okay, Camille, we get it," Jimmy assured her, patting her shoulder. "Let's just go on home before this gets any worse."

"But she's right," Leslie said, ushering the triplets into the car and helping them get strapped into their child seats. "Something's wrong with Tabitha."

"Did you notice Diane wasn't here?" asked Lauren, referring to their doll-refurbishing friend who lived toward the western end of the island. "You think she and Tabitha had such a falling-out that Tabitha didn't even bother to invite her? I know we don't see Diane that much, but I didn't think it had gone that far."

"Well, I can explain that at least," Leslie said. "Her daughter's resettled permanently in Minnesota, and Diane decided to move back there so she could be closer to her family."

Christian slapped the roof of the car, catching their collective attention. "She lived not too far from here, didn't she? I seem to remember Fernando mentioning a few times in the recent past that he was glad Tabitha had a friend who lived close by, whereas all the rest of us are much closer to the resort. If Diane has left permanently, that may leave Tabitha feeling lonely and isolated."

Leslie, Lauren and Camille looked at each other, and Leslie ventured, "You think that's it?"

Camille snorted. "Well, if that's what the problem is, she's handling it like a seven-year-old whose best friend's dad just got transferred to another state."

"No kidding," Brian agreed. "I wonder if Fernando knows about that."

"I should think he would," Christian mused, "but the way he was acting seems to suggest that he doesn't - to me, anyway. Perhaps the best thing we can do is just get on with our own lives, move on as though everything were the usual, and wait to see if Michiko manages to recover enough to start resuming her life and whether Tabitha's sulk is due to something other than having a friend move away. Does anyone need a ride home?"

Brian and Lauren, who had only their four-year-old son Kevin with them, accepted; but Jimmy checked his watch. "Thanks, but no - your car would be packed to the rafters. The next bus should be around in a few more minutes. You guys go on home, and we'll see you later. Oh yeah - by the way, Christian, I'll probably drop by your office tomorrow. My laptop's slower than ever."

"Did you defrag it?" Christian asked.

"Yeah, but it didn't help. Maybe it just needs a cleaning. You'll be there to take a look at it, won't you?"

Christian grinned. "Don't tell me I'm the only one you trust with that thing." Jimmy laughed, and he chuckled in response. "Yes, I'll be there for a while, but only a couple of hours or so. Come in around ten if you can."

These arrangements made, the Omamaras headed for the nearby bus stop and the Enstads and Knights got into the car, heading for home with a mixture of relief and disappointment. Leslie let her head fall back against the headrest as Christian piloted the car east along the Ring Road, and he glanced at her. "Are you all right, my Rose?"

"Just tired," Leslie said through a long exhalation. "Maybe I'll just sleep tomorrow completely away."

"Good luck with that," said Lauren skeptically, and the adults all laughed. "I can't say I blame you, though. What a fiasco that party turned into. Camille told me at one point that she just wanted to slap some sense into Tabitha." She let the chuckles pass, then peered at Leslie curiously. "Wasn't Michiko supposed to build a house next door to you?"

"That was her plan," said Leslie. "She even went so far as to sign the papers Father had drawn up and collect her copy of the deed to the land, and I've heard she saw the architect who worked with Christian on our house. But we thought we'd be waking up to construction noise every day by now, and so far, nothing."

Lauren was quiet for a minute, making an acknowledging noise; Brian let the time elapse, then remarked with mock suspicion, "I can see cogs cranking around in that head of yours. What kind of scheme are you cooking up?"

"Scheme?" Lauren repeated in all innocence. "Who, me?"

Brian scoffed, half laughing. "Yeah, you. All I have to say is this - whatever you're planning, leave me out of it."

Lauren rewarded that with a loud raspberry that pitched the four children headlong into a manic laughing fit. "I won't need you anyway, spoilsport. But Leslie, if you decide to opt out too, I promise I'll let you know what happens."

"That's great, but what're you planning to do?" Leslie asked.

"When I've finished figuring it out, I'll tell you," Lauren told her. "For right now, let's just try to put that catastrophic party behind us and think positive."