§ § § - January 6, 2007

"Fate give us rest," Christian said and broke down into helpless laughter when he heard the story. "It sounds to me as if you have your work cut out for you." He capitulated to Tobias' persistent request for another helping of papaya and some more slices of cheese. "I just hope you don't have to hand out a refund, Mr. Roarke."

"The weekend is only just really under way," Roarke said with mild surprise. "Let's not write the ending before we've even neared it."

"My apologies," Christian said, chuckling. "So what did they say?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln complained first about Akima's rudeness, and then about what they called her 'wanton and deliberate nudity'," Leslie told him. "Sylvia was much more interested in seeing for herself, and trying to prove to her parents, that Akima's tail was the real thing, and that was all she focused on. I'm not sure she even noticed that Akima was, well, topless. She certainly didn't seem to care. As a matter of fact, when she told her side of it, she reminded her parents very pointedly that all mermaids were depicted as topless—sometimes, but not always, using their hair to hide certain parts of them—and only Walt Disney had the gall to sanitize them by putting bikini tops on them."

Christian laughed again. "Disney was a family man all the way," he said. "But I suspect that Sylvia's already long since outgrown Disney movies, if I have my understanding of your description of her correct."

"She does seem much older than her years at times, and often far wiser," Roarke agreed with a smile. "Fortunately, not so old, however, that she doesn't recognize the value of whimsy and fantasy in life."

"So what did you tell the parents?" Christian asked.

"I merely placated them," Roarke said serenely. "I reminded them that this is Fantasy Island, emphasis on the 'fantasy'…and that perhaps they were missing the point their daughter hoped to make to them. But in the meantime I apologized for Akima's infraction, despite the caveat Leslie gave earlier that we have no control over mermaids' actions while in our waters."

"That was inspired, my Rose," Christian observed. "It's too bad those two were too pragmatic to pay much attention."

Leslie met her father's amused gaze. "Straight from the mouth of a formerly pragmatic prince. I think we've finally totally converted him, Father."

"So it would seem," Roarke remarked.

Christian snorted. "I decided some time ago that I'd better just give up being shocked by everything you two bring up in the course of a normal lunch conversation. Otherwise I'd wear out my sense of amazement. As you said, Mr. Roarke, this is Fantasy Island, with a definite emphasis on the 'fantasy' part of it, and I decided it was the wiser move to reconcile myself to that and learn to accept all these seemingly ridiculous stories as part of that element of fantasy. After all, it's the very foundation of your business."

"So it is." Roarke laughed. "Welcome to the inner circle, Christian. How are things progressing at your office?"

Christian paused a moment and then laughed. "Oh yes, that," he said. "I think you'll like this story." He told Roarke and Leslie about the hour or so he had spent coaxing Jonathan out of his blue funk and back to work in the wake of his breakup with Ingrid.

"So that's why Ingrid's been so quiet and subdued lately!" Leslie said, wide-eyed. "So they asked for the day off to break up?"

Christian laughed again. "I'm sure that wasn't their original intention, but that seems to have been the way it turned out. Jonathan said they got together to talk in depth about their relationship and its future, and that when he proposed, it seemed to bring everything to a head, which is when it all fell apart. They couldn't seem to meet halfway, and I guess they decided splitting up was their only choice."

"That's too bad," Leslie murmured.

"Mmm," Christian agreed, "but I don't think Ingrid at least will be upset for too long. Jonathan mentioned a letter she received from some old boyfriend back in Lilla Jordsö, so when the day comes that she leaves our employ, she'll probably have someone to go back to. Although I'm sure the triplets will be very unhappy."

"We might not need her when they start kindergarten," Leslie mused slowly. "Of course, that's still a good couple of years away, so there's all sorts of time for everybody to decide what to do. Well, Susanna, do you want some more papaya?"

After lunch, Roarke took careful note of the time, had a long look out the French shutters, and then nodded. "I believe the time is right," he said. "Leslie, will you please call the Lincolns' bungalow and ask them to come here to the main house."

Leslie was secretly relieved when Sylvia picked up the phone, which made it easier to deliver her message. Sylvia promised they would all be there shortly, but "shortly" turned into more than twenty minutes; and Arthur and Veronica Lincoln were not exactly thrilled to be there. Their faces tightened when they saw Roarke and Leslie. "I suppose you want to convince us that some other mythological thing actually exists, and have someone showing far too many body parts in the role-playing," Arthur said sourly.

Roarke only smiled and said, "As a matter of fact, Mr. Lincoln, I thought you might appreciate something a little more mundane. We offer horseback riding here, and the stables are not very far away." Leslie grinned when Sylvia lit up at the mention of horseback riding; there weren't many little girls who didn't pass through a horse-infatuation period. She expected Karina and Susanna would go through it themselves one day.

"Horseback riding?" said Veronica, as if Roarke had suggested they go cliff diving.

Sylvia instantly rounded on her mother. "Please," she begged. "You know I've wanted to learn to ride a horse for years. And you better not start saying anything stupid about how you just know Mr. Roarke's horses are wild, rude beasts that throw off every rider who sets foot in a stirrup. You've embarrassed me enough in front of him and Mrs. Enstad this weekend, both of you."

"Young lady, is that any way to talk to your parents?" Arthur demanded.

Sylvia blinked at him, as if startled. "I just want to have a good time here, and you're acting like that's against the law."

"We never said any such thing," Veronica said stiffly, sounding hurt. "We just never knew you wanted to learn to ride."

"I've said for years that I—" Sylvia cut herself off and rolled her eyes. "What's the use? Can we just go, please, Mr. Roarke? And do they really have to come with me?"

"I'm afraid it's the rule that parents must accompany their minor children," Roarke said, with only a trace of regret; in fact, Leslie saw him wink discreetly at Sylvia. "But I'm sure everyone will enjoy this little outing. Would you all come with me?"

They trooped out to the rover in silence and spent the ride to the stables that way as well, which made everyone uncomfortable, except probably Roarke. Sylvia came back to life when she saw a few horses being led towards stalls, or cantering leisurely around the lush green grass, and gasped. "This'll be so exciting!"

Her parents were clearly dubious, but to Leslie's surprise, they allowed themselves to be talked into boarding the two most docile horses available. Roarke pointed out a nearby trail and suggested they take it as far as it would go, advising that it would lead them to the town square. "Then you may simply turn around and come back."

"I'm so glad you suggested this, Mr. Roarke," Sylvia exclaimed. "Oh, can you do something for me?" She dug into a pocket and extracted a small camera. "Take a picture of me on the horse, please? This might be the only time I ever get to ride."

"I'd be glad to," Roarke agreed, and took two or three shots of Sylvia posing atop the horse before handing the camera back. "Enjoy your ride." He smiled at all three Lincolns, then said, "Excuse us. Leslie?"

"You have something planned for them," she said low, watching them depart at a slow walk that had the senior Lincolns rolling uncomfortably in their saddles.

Roarke smiled. "Indeed," he said, "and I for one am looking forward to hearing about it." He winked at her, and she giggled.

When they returned, there was a message on the answering machine, which turned out to be from Paloma Esperanza. "Hi, I just wanted to ask Leslie a question—where do I find your husband's computer shop? My laptop seems to have picked up a bug from some stupid e-mail message, and I was hoping he could take a look at it. Thanks."

"I'll go and talk to her," Leslie offered. "I haven't seen her since she got here anyway."

Roarke agreed, and she left the house and headed for the bungalows. Paloma replied to her knock almost immediately, and lit up at sight of her. "Hello, Leslie, thanks for coming over. This darn thing…" She hefted up the closed laptop. "It's usually really reliable, but I guess it felt as much like taking a vacation as I did."

Leslie laughed. "Maybe it's entitled. Have you visited Damian and Mr. Casey yet?"

"I tried calling, but I guess they weren't home; nobody picked up. Well, that's all right, I'll be here for a good month. I'll catch up with them." She stepped outside and fell in beside Leslie as they strolled toward town. "How's the weekend going?"

"Busy as ever," Leslie said with a smile. "Tell me again, when's season four of King's Castle coming out?" Making small talk in this manner, they soon emerged into the town square and crossed quickly over to Enstad Computer Services. Christian and all six of his employees were there, even Jonathan, whose hair still looked a little damp as if from a very recent washing. He looked up and waved at her as she came in.

"Boss Prince, you've got company," he said.

Christian looked up from the interior of a computer tower and brightened. "Hello, my Rose," he said and stood up to kiss her. "And what can I do for you, Ms. Esperanza?"

Paloma blinked at him. "You must be the first person I've met in decades who doesn't evince total shock at seeing me," she remarked.

"Because I'm too famous for my own liking, and I know what it feels like," Christian said with a grin, and she laughed. "Are you here for a fantasy, or just a vacation?"

"I'm taking some much-needed time off," Paloma said, lifting her laptop for him to see, "and apparently so's this thing. I think it picked up some kind of virus from an e-mail that I thought was perfectly safe. Could you take a look at it for me?"

"Of course," Christian agreed and took the machine from her. "Was the message from someone you trusted?"

Paloma nodded. "A longtime friend of mine. It must have looked innocuous to her, but I'm still surprised she sent it. Thanks for taking the time to check it out."

"That's my business," Christian said, smiling. "I'll take a look as soon as I've finished this project here." He gestured at the tower on the work arm of his desk.

Paloma chuckled and said, "Don't feel as if you have to hurry; I could probably stand a long break from surfing online anyway. And besides, Leslie reminded me that I owe Howie and Damian a visit. Do you happen to know if they ever get into town?"

"If they do, they don't come in here," Christian observed, turning to his wife. "Do you ever see them?"

Leslie shrugged. "Not outside the Enclave. Maybe they do all their errands in the middle of the night so the fewest possible people see them out and about."

Christian and Paloma both laughed at that, and she grinned as Paloma observed, "You know, that sounds a lot like something they might try. Which seems ridiculous, considering that—" She happened to glance out the window, and cut herself off at that moment. "Well, speak of the devil. And here I never thought they'd do it."

Christian and Leslie turned to look as well, and Leslie grinned, for approaching the shop was Damian Mullawney, pushing Carson Howland Casey in his wheelchair. Casey had a computer tower balanced on his lap. Paloma went to the door and said teasingly, "We really have to stop meeting like this."

"Well, if it isn't Paloma!" Damian exclaimed and laughed. "Why didn't you tell us you were here? We had no clue!"

"I tried calling you guys, but nobody answered," she told him. "I guess that's because you've been here all this time. Come on in." She held the door open for Damian to wheel Casey inside the office, and Christian greeted them in the same nonchalant way he had with Paloma, making the two men exchange glances.

"We've got a fried computer," Casey said without further comment on Christian's welcome, patting the tower on its top. "Now I'm told you're a virtual miracle worker with these things, but I'm prepared to buy a whole new system if this one's beyond help. So if you don't mind, could you check this thing out and let me know?"

"I'll be glad to," Christian said, chuckling, "but you may have to wait a while. Ms. Esperanza here just requested that I look at her laptop, and I've been working on this one over here for the better part of the afternoon."

"Just whenever you can get to it, Your Highness," Damian spoke up, stepping around the wheelchair and lifting the tower out of Casey's lap. "Where can I put it?"

"Over there," Christian said, waving at a table that held towers and other components awaiting service. Each had a Post-It note attached with a name written on it. "Darius, do you have any more Post-Its? I think I've run out over here."

"I've got a whole drawer full of them," said Darius Langford with a chuckle, rising and pulling a drawer open. He scooped out a handful of small, square yellow notepads and brought them to Christian's desk, where he dropped them. He nodded at the newcomers. "It's nice to meet you."

"Damian Mullawney," Damian said immediately, extending a hand. Darius grinned at him and shook, then repeated the gesture with Casey before turning to Paloma. He paused to look at her with impressed surprise, then slowly extended a hand.

"Darius Langford," he offered.

"Paloma Esperanza," she replied, grasping and shaking. But Leslie could see that the two were mutually interested, and when she caught Christian's surprised glance, she knew he'd seen it too. Paloma went on, "So you work here?"

"Just since last March," Darius said. "I'd just gotten out of the Air Force and was hoping I could find some way to stay on this island, and Christian here obliged me with a job. Helped me find an apartment too, and in a couple months I'll be eligible for citizenship." He nodded at her surprised look. "Haven't decided on that yet, though."

"You'd be crazy not to stay, young man," said Carson Howland Casey in his characteristically blunt manner. "If it means giving up US citizenship, then for crying out loud, don't hesitate. Roarke's operation pays so well that he doesn't even take taxes out of the paychecks here."

Paloma looked astonished. "He doesn't?"

Christian grinned and said, "No, and that's what makes my accountant's job so easy." He gestured at Jonathan, who snorted, making them laugh. "I have to worry about taxes in four other countries, thanks to the various branches of my business, so being able to exclude Fantasy Island from the tax tangle is a relief. Mr. Roarke's able to pay all his own employees a decent living wage and can provide civil services such as police and fire departments, plus a hospital, without taxing the population here because his business is so incredibly lucrative. Between all the vacationers, plus the fantasies he grants…well, he can afford to forgo taxes. There may be people who are just getting by, but no one is truly poor here."

"What, does he employ the entire island?" Darius wanted to know.

"Not quite," Leslie said through a chuckle. "The high-school staff and faculty are actually paid in part by Air Force allocations because the base on Coral Island sends its teenagers to high school here. And the folks living and working in the fishing village are self-employed. They make up a pretty heavy percentage of the total population here, so it's not like Father's supporting everyone on the island. Plus, anybody who has businesses here, like Christian, pays his or her employees from that income, rather than anything Father gives them. On the other hand, Father does employ about two hundred islanders all told, so he does have a fair-sized layout—but not as enormous as that."

"So how do I get in on this?" Paloma inquired, and they all laughed again.

"I could tell you more this evening over dinner, if you're interested," Darius offered in a low voice while Christian wrote Casey's and Damian's surnames on a Post-It to stick onto their tower. Paloma regarded him curiously, then smiled.

"I think I'd like that," she said. "Thanks. What time should we meet?"

Before Darius could reply, there was a loud clattering in the square, and every head in the room turned to the windows. Out front were three horses, each bearing a rider, two of whom were in what appeared to be a state of sheer flailing madness and the third exhibiting wide-eyed, dazed delight. Leslie alone recognized the Lincolns, gasped and burst through the door. "Are you folks all right?"

"There was a thing in the woods!" cried Veronica Lincoln, grasping her thigh. "I can't imagine what on earth it was supposed to be…"

"What'd it look like?" Leslie asked, aware of everyone from Christian's office, including his employees, crowding out onto the covered sidewalk in front of the building to gape and listen. Apparently oblivious, Veronica waved her hands madly and stammered something before falling silent and rubbing her hand in circles on her thigh.

Arthur took over, though he looked only slightly less hysterical than his wife. "It was some huge monster," he said breathlessly, eyes grotesquely magnified behind his glasses. "I don't even know what it's called…it was some sort of…fusion of Homo sapiens and Equus ferus caballus." His face changed. "If this is another one of yours and Roarke's…tricks…"

Half man, half horse—a centaur! Leslie thought, and with difficulty managed to hold back a laugh. "Oh, I assure you, it's no trick, Mr. Lincoln."

"How could it be anything but a trick? You know those things don't exist—"

"Unless there's some…some aspiring Frankenstein hoping to create something that didn't exist before," Veronica babbled frantically.

"You two," Sylvia said, rolling her eyes. "You must be the last two people on earth who wouldn't know a centaur if he came up and bit you on the leg."

"But that's what it did!" wailed Veronica, closing her eyes and spreading out her hand over her leg. Leslie blinked, feeling a laugh bubbling rapidly up within her and reminding herself that this was the last thing the Lincolns would welcome.

"And you still didn't know it was a centaur," Sylvia said scornfully. "Holy cow."

By now the small crowd behind Leslie was mumbling amongst themselves; she heard Jonathan's and Julianne's muted voices somewhere in the mix, agreeing sagely that this must be yet another of Mr. Roarke's fantasies. Christian sidled up beside her and whispered into her ear, "Are these the people you were talking about at lunch?"

"Uh-huh," she murmured back. "The skeptics."

"Maybe they'll be slightly less skeptical now that they've seen this centaur," he said low, a grin spreading over his face. "And been bitten by one, it appears." Leslie lost some of her hard-won control and a giggle boiled out before she slapped her hand over her mouth. Christian just grinned wider.

"Those people must be nuts," said Carson Howland Casey from somewhere nearby, making both Christian and Leslie dam up their laughter with hands over their mouths. "We all know centaurs don't exist—except here on this crazy island."

They could see that Sylvia heard him, and she beamed at him, pumping a fist high in the air while her parents moaned over the alleged centaur bite Veronica had received. "You got that right!" the girl proclaimed happily.

Her voice made Arthur Lincoln look up, and as luck would have it, his gaze collided with Leslie's. She read abrupt fury in his, and her burgeoning mirth died almost instantly, just before he leaned over in his saddle, nearly falling off the horse, and roared in a hoarse voice, "We're going to sue you, and you can tell your father that for me!"

§ § § - January 7, 2007

"Are you still mooning over that man's announcement, my Rose?" Christian asked at breakfast the next morning, taking in Leslie's troubled expression. "Surely you don't think he'll actually go through with it."

She looked up and said with a sigh, "It's not so much the threat itself, but how it was made. Namely, in front of a town square full of people, including about ten very avid witnesses in front of your office."

Roarke had crossed the veranda while she was speaking, and took his usual chair with an amused glint in his dark eyes. "If those witnesses were as avid as you say, then according to the story you two told me at last night's meal, they could have no possible grounds for a lawsuit. Consider it, Leslie. It cannot happen."

"What do you mean?" Leslie asked.

"They would be likely to insist upon neutral ground for their lawsuit, since I own this island and am the law here. And tell me, what judge beyond this island would believe their reason for suing me? A centaur bite? After all, centaurs are imaginary creatures."

Christian snickered, and Leslie relaxed in her chair and laughed. "You know, you're right, Father. Thanks for pointing that out to me. But they're going to be a couple of very upset people, I don't doubt."

"Of that I am well aware, my child. But don't worry; the weekend isn't over yet." He perused the dishes on the table. "Why don't we have some breakfast and think about it later, when we are fortified."