�The rules are kind of different when it�s your kid or someone you know,� Connie smiled knowingly at Diane.

�Well, maybe he thinks it�s not his kid. Look at him. He�s so dark. I'm not even that dark, and Danny�s even lighter than I am.� Diane�s eyes lovingly exploring every inch of her little man.

�You have a good point there. In my family, we�d be talking about the mailman right about now,� Connie laughed, flipping her blond hair and batting her blue eyes.

I know exactly whose kid this is, Diane thought.

The ladies were very quiet for a while. �So, what are you going to name him?�

�Michael Anthony Russell,� Diane whispered, looking at Rose-Marie.

�Is that a family name?� Connie asked.

�Kind of,� Diane laughed, and Rose-Marie grinned.

Bored at home after three months of leave, Diane flipped absentmindedly through a coffee table book on tropical islands and fantasized as she nursed Michael. Suddenly, she stopped and pulled the book close to her.

�What the...I�ve been there before. I think,� she said to the baby. �How about we test out your travel skills?� Diane marked the page, and as soon as the baby had his fill for the moment, she packed up her Everything bag and went down to visit the travel agent.

Twenty-four hours later, Diane was climbing down from a small propeller airplane onto a tropical island. She fumbled with her bags and her papoose-style baby carrier, and an islander reached over and helped her. Diane stopped and handed the islander a picture.

�Have you seen this man? His name is...�

�Oh, sure, lady. Everyone knows Mr. Matisse, the Zen Artist.�

�Can you take me to his place?�

�Sure, lady. No problem.�

Diane studied the island coastline, and she admired this paradise. The air was filled with a familiar, warm salty smell of the ocean, mixed with the faint aroma of orchids, hibiscus and other tropical flowers.