I'd like an opinion on a couple of Story ideas

[WriterGirl]

Hello! Me again, back with another update.
~~~

Everyone got off to a late start the next morning. By the time the former castaways (minus the Professor) were assembled around the kitchen table for breakfast, it was almost noon, and they had silently agreed to just call it brunch. They ate slowly and silently, every loud noise met with six winces and moans as they tried to fight off their collective headache.

The Professor walked in through the back door. "Good morning," he said cheerfully, gaining himself a few glares.

"Well, you're awfully chipper," Skipper said.

"Certainly. I've almost finished setting up the new irrigation system in the field."

"Thank you, Professor," Mary Ann said tiredly.

"My pleasure."

The front door slammed shut, and there were seven groans in response, one of which came from the living room. Jimmy walked into the kitchen, holding a hand to his head. "Morning, folks," he said tiredly.

He received a few half-hearted greetings in return as he sat down between Ginger and the Professor.

"Professor, Patti said that those parts for that thing should be in the mail with the afternoon train," he said.

"Wonderful," Professor said. "I should be able to get that system up and running by tomorrow."

"Oh, and Mary Ann, your friend William didn't know the house number, so he called Patti. He'll be on the afternoon train, too."

"William's coming?" she said excitedly.

"Yeah."

She gave a happy squeal, and jumped up from the table. "Oh, I better go get ready!" She ran out of the room and hurried upstairs.

"Are we going to the theater today?" Jimmy asked Ginger.

"Yes," she said. "As soon as Mary Ann is ready. If Mr. Carlisle is up, I want to ask if he'll help us. He probably knows more about re-upholstering chairs than we do."

"That isn't saying much." He looked around the table and smiled. "Did everyone have fun last night?"

"I suppose you could call it that," Mr. Howell said. "I haven't felt like this since the Oyster Bay Yacht Club's Fiftieth Anniversary Gala."

"What happened at the Oyster Bay Yacht Club's Fiftieth Anniversary Gala?" Gilligan asked.

"I haven't the foggiest."

"Must we talk about last night?" Ginger said wearily.

"I'm sorry, Ginger," Jimmy said. "If I'd been rejected and humiliated in front of the entire town, I wouldn't want to..." His voice trailed off when he saw the look Ginger was giving him. "...talk about it, either. Boy, that coffee smells good. I better get me some." He hurried away from Ginger and over to the stove.

"Skipper, what are we doing today?" Gilligan asked.

"We are fixing the hole that you put in the girls' bedroom roof," Skipper said.

"Oh, yeah," Gilligan said grumpily. "I forgot about that."

For a moment, Skipper thought that Gilligan was simply unhappy about having to work, or being reminded of his clumsiness. Then he realized: he didn't want to be around the house- much less the girls' room- while Mary Ann's boyfriend was around. And Skipper couldn't blame him in the least.

"Listen, Little Buddy," he said gently, or as gentle as the Skipper ever was. "I can probably fix the roof by myself. There are other things you should be doing."

"Like what?" Gilligan asked.

"Well, like..." He searched his mind, but came up with nothing. "Well, now that you mention it, I don't know. We've done pretty much all the repairs on the house and the barn. Mrs. Howell said she and Mr. Carlisle are just about done with the decorating." Mrs. Howell gave a tired nod in confirmation, without even opening her eyes.

"Why don't you come into town with us, Gilligan?" Ginger said. "We can always use an extra pair of hands at the theater."

"Even mine?" he said.

"Even yours," she said with a smile.


When the Professor and Mary Ann walked into the general store a short while later, they found Patti at the front counter.

"Good morning, Patti," The Professor said.

"Morning, y'all," she said wearily, her head resting on her hands.

"You sound like we feel," Mary Ann said with a smile.

"I think I feel like you feel, too," Patti said. "I guess Jimmy gave you my messages."

"Yes," Professor said. "We came in to meet the afternoon train."

"How long do you think it'll be?" Mary Ann asked.

Patti glanced at her watch. "About another hour," she said.

"I'm hoping to finish setting up our irrigation system today," Professor said. "But I think I may need some more screws."

"I haven't moved 'em," she said. "Help yourself. I'll just add it onto Howell's account." Once the Professor had walked away, she leaned over the counter and whispered to Mary Ann, "How's Ginger doing?"

"I think she's okay," Mary Ann said. "She's working today."

"That's good."

"Patti!" Jimmy's voice came from outside as they heard his footsteps running across the porch. He appeared in the doorway. "There's a car coming up the road."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Come on!"

They followed him onto the porch, where Ginger and Gilligan were watching a blue convertible drive up the road towards them. As the driver's face came into view, Jimmy and Patti's smiles faded.

"Is that-" Jimmy said.

"Yep," Patti said shortly, crossing her arms.

"A friend of yours?" Mary Ann asked.

"No," the twins said together.

The car pulled up and parked in front of the store, and the driver climbed out. He was in his mid-50s, wearing an expensive, tailored suit and a big smile.

"You have some nerve, setting foot in my town again," Patti said.

"It's good to see you again, too...Mayor," the man said.

"Jimmy, get my shotgun."

"Now, there's no need for that," the visitor said, holding up his hands. "I come in peace."

Patti stepped off the porch. "You came because you smelled money."

"I came at the request of my dear friend, Thurston Howell."

"You're a friend of Howell's," she said quietly. "That figures," she said with disappointment apparent in her voice.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Professor said. He stepped forward and shook the visitor's hand. "Professor Roy Hinkley."

"Professor," the visitor said happily. "Good to put a face to the name. Henry Merryweather, Merryweather Properties. Now, where can I find our friend Thurston?"

"He's at the farm," Gilligan said.

"Thank you, my boy." He studied him for a brief moment. "You must be Gilligan."

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." He climbed back into his car. "Thank you for the warm welcome, as always, Mayor."

"Do you need a guide?" Professor asked.

"He can find it himself," Patti said. "He's been there before."

The group watched as Mr. Merryweather drove away, then they turned to Patti.

"Patti," the Professor said. "I couldn't help but observe a distinctly strong animosity between yourself and our new acquaintance."

Patti turned to her brother and nodded towards the Professor. "Nothing gets by this one. Come on," she said to the group. "I have something y'all need to see."

She took them to the back room of the city clerk's office, where there was an old wooden table and about a dozen filing cabinets. She took out a large roll of paper and opened it on the table, revealing a map of the town. She leaned on the table as she pointed and spoke:

"The train tracks run almost right through the middle of town. Everything west of them- the main part of town, our farm, all that land- belongs to either the town, or our family. Everything east has been bought up by Mr. Merryweather, except for Mr. Friedman's farm."

"What's he going to do with all that land?" Ginger asked.

"Build a freeway," Patti said. "Which will go over the eastern half of town, passing us by and bringing nothing but pollution and noise."

"It won't bring people?" Mary Ann asked.

"Not unless they put in an off-ramp," Jimmy said. "Which he's not going to do unless we sell the western half, which we're not willing to do. That's the offer we got last time he was here, anyway."

"And you believe Mr. Friedman kept the farm rather than selling it, in order to avoid this?" Professor asked.

"That's what I thought," Patti said. "But he left it to Howell, who's gonna sell it anyway."

"Oh, Mr. Howell won't do that," Gilligan said.

"Gilligan," Professor said patiently. "Mr. Howell, though prone to bouts of sentimentality, is first and foremost a businessman. His main motivation is profit."

"Well, we've got to try to convince him, anyway," Mary Ann said. "We'll talk to him tonight," she told Patti.


Ginger and Gilligan arrived home early that evening, done in by their impatience to hear Mr. Howell's decision. When they pulled up and didn't see Mr. Merryweather's car, Ginger wasn't sure what to think.

"I'm real sorry about that chair, Ginger," Gilligan said as they walked up onto the porch.

"It's okay, Gilligan," she said. "It's nothing that can't be fixed." Silently, she hoped William wouldn't be staying long. Working with Gilligan was an adventure best had in small doses.

They walked into the living room and met Mary Ann as she came in from the kitchen. She greeted them with a smile.

"Hey, you two," she said. "You're just in time for dinner."

"Great," Gilligan said happily.

"Skipper and the Professor are in the kitchen," Mary Ann said. "I was just heading upstairs to tell everyone else."

Ginger and Gilligan found Skipper and Professor sitting at the kitchen table, with eight places already set.

"Hey, Skipper," Gilligan said excitedly, sitting down next to him. "What did Mr. Howell say? Is he gonna sell the farm? What's he gonna do?"

"Calm down, Gilligan," Skipper said. "Howell hasn't said anything. He hasn't made a decision yet."

"He's spent most of the day upstairs," Professor said. "Discussing business with Mr. Merryweather."

"Ginger, is it as serious as the Professor and Mary Ann said?" Skipper asked.

"The twins certainly think so," Ginger said. "You should have seen Patti. She looked at him with murder in her eyes."

Mr. Howell walked into the kitchen, and Gilligan jumped out of his seat to meet him at the door.

"Mr. Howell," he said excitedly. "What are you going to do? Are you gonna sell the farm? Are you?"

"Gilligan, will you calm down," Mr. Howell said impatiently. "Don't you know it's impolite to discuss business at the dinner table?"

"What about the living room?"

"As I've been telling everybody, all day, I have not made a decision yet," he said. "I'll let you know."

"Mr. Howell, it's real important to the town," Gilligan said.

"Well, I understand," Mr. Howell said. "It's important to me, as well. That's why I need time to make the right decision, you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The phone rang.

"Be a good boy and get the phone, will you?" Mr. Howell said.

"Yes, sir." Gilligan walked to the phone that hung on the wall by the refrigerator and picked it up. "Hello?"

"This is Bernie Grossman," a man said in a loud voice with a prominent New York accent. "Who is this?"

"This is Gilligan."

"Gilligan again, huh? Doesn't anybody else in that house know how to answer the phone?"

"I guess not," Gilligan said.

"Well, put Ginger on for me, will ya?" Bernie said.

"Yes, sir." Gilligan pulled the receiver away and said, "Hey, Ginger, it's your agent."

"Oh, good," she said happily. "I'll pick it up upstairs." She hurried out of the room and up the stairs, and answered the phone on the hall table. "Hi, Bernie."

"Ginger, babe," Bernie said cheerfully. There was a small click as Gilligan hung up the downstairs line. "How's life in the sticks?"

"I've had better weeks," she said.

"Well, I'm about to make it a better week," Bernie said. "Much better. Harold Hecuba's new picture starts filming next week."

"I know. That's the one Debbie's starring in."

"Correction, my dear: that's the one Debbie was starring in, before she became the toast of off-Broadway. Now it's the one starring the beautiful Ginger Grant."

"Me?" Ginger said.

"Do you know any other beautiful Ginger Grants? Because I don't. Now get that red head of yours back to the West Coast. We've got a lot of work to do."

"Oh, I don't know, Bernie," she said. "Things have been crazy around here. It's not really a good time."

"What, do you think you'll get back and the place won't be there?"

"Yes."

"I know it gets windy in Oklahoma, but come on, kid," Bernie said. "Look, it's a month of work, we save your career, and you get a nice paycheck that you can use to save all the little theaters in Waywind."

"Wayward," she said.

"That's what I said. Everyone wins."

Ginger fell silent for a moment. Bernie had a point. They both knew her career was in jeopardy, and she could put that money to good use, helping the theater. And if Mr. Howell decided to sell the farm, what use would she be here anyway?

"Kid?"

"Make the deal," she said. "I'll leave tomorrow."
~~~

[WriterGirl]

Me again!
~~~

Jimmy had a bad feeling as he drove up to the Friedman farm the next morning. The day before had been bad, and today was probably gonna be worse. Ginger was leaving on the Noon train, and Mr. Howell still hadn't decided whether he was selling to Mr. Merryweather or not. The longer Mr. Howell took to decide, the more certain Patti became that he would, but Jimmy was still trying to keep his hopes up.

When he got out of the truck, he found Gilligan sitting on the front porch steps, carving a piece of wood. "Morning, Gilligan."

"What's good about it?" Gilligan asked.

"I didn't say it was good. I just said it was morning."

Gilligan glanced up at the sky. "Oh, yeah, it is."

Jimmy leaned on the railing. "What are you so glum about?"

"What's there to be happy about?" Gilligan asked. "Ginger's leaving, and Mr. Howell's selling the farm, and..." His voice trailed off, but Jimmy barely noticed.

"Mr. Howell made up his mind?"

"No," Gilligan said. "But the Professor thinks he's gonna sell, and he's usually right. That's why he's a Professor."

"That makes sense."

"Hi, Jimmy," Mary Ann said as she and William walked in from the fields. Gilligan looked down to resume his carving.

"Morning, Miss Mary Ann," Jimmy said with his usual smile and a tip of his hat, followed by a curter nod for William.

"Ginger's all packed and ready," Mary Ann said as they walked up the steps. "I'll let her know you're here."

"Thanks." Jimmy waited until William and Mary Ann were inside before asking Gilligan, "How long is Miss Mary Ann's fella supposed to be staying?"

"I dunno," Gilligan said with a shrug.

"You like him?"

"Yeah, he's a swell guy," Gilligan said, in the same glum tone.

"Yeah, it sounds like it."

The front door opened and Ginger looked out. "Hi, Jimmy."

"Hi, Ginger."

"My bags are just inside here," she said. "Would you mind getting them? I still have to say good-bye to the Professor."

"Yes, ma'am."

The boys began moving the luggage while Ginger went upstairs. She had already said her good-byes to the Howells, the Skipper, Mary Ann, and even William, but not yet the Professor. With the uncertainty hanging over Mr. Friedman's property, she wasn't sure when they would be seeing each other again, and she wanted to leave things on a good note. He was, after all, still one of her dearest friends.

She knocked on his door and heard a "Come in." When she entered she found him, as usual, hunched over his desk, writing. He quickly rose from his seat when he saw her.

"Did you think you could get away with not saying good-bye to me?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Are you about to leave?" The Professor asked, joining her near the door.

She nodded. "I'm riding into town with Jimmy and Gilligan to catch the twelve o'clock train."

"Do you have any indication of when you'll be returning?" he asked. He assumed- or perhaps simply hoped- that she planned to return to complete her work at the theater, regardless of the outcome of the current uncertainty concerning Mr. Friedman's property.

"Bernie said it would be about a month, but it's hard to tell. I'll be sure to let you know." Ginger paused for a moment, then asked carefully, "Professor. Do you really believe Mr. Howell will sell the farm?"

The Professor sighed. "I do. Mr. Howell is, first and foremost, a businessman. Selling is the most profitable option."

"It didn't take him long on Wall Street to grow back those wolf fangs," she said with a pout.

"Well, he is still as human as the rest of us," the Professor said. "Perhaps his sense of sentimentality can still overrule his pragmatism."

"Well, make sure you help him with that."

"I will give it a valiant effort, I assure you. Although, my skills of persuasion are not as well-honed as some," he said with a smile.

She returned the smile and gave a tiny nod as she said, "Good-bye, Professor."

"Good-bye, Ginger."

She gave him a long, lingering kiss on the cheek before she slowly turned away and left the room, both of them silently hoping that she would be back sooner rather than later.


Mary Ann held her red gingham dress up in front of her. She was surprised what good shape it was in, all things considered. Socials in Winfield, days and nights on the island, and everything in between, with barely a thread out of place. And now it was about to go back in her closet to await whatever came next. What a reliable little dress, to stick with her through everything.

She was hanging it in the closet when there was a knock on the door. William walked in with a smile.

"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing?"

"Just putting away some laundry," she said with a shrug. "Don't know why. I expect I'll be packing it all away soon."

"You really think Howell's gonna sell this place?"

Mary Ann was quiet for a moment before she shrugged. "I don't know. That's the thing about Mr. Howell. You never know if you're dealing with the 'Wolf of Wall Street' or...the man who gave Gilligan his teddy bear when he ran off to live in a cave," she remembered with a smile.

"Why did Gilligan go live in a cave?" William asked.

"Which time?"

"Never mind," he said. He sat down on the bed and took Mary Ann's hand to gently pull her over. "Enough about that. When are you gonna marry me?"

"William..." He had asked before, a few times, and it was a fair question. They had been together since her return to Kansas, and she did care about him deeply. He was a sweet, wonderful man and she loved being around him. Yet every time the subject came up, there was something that held her back from saying yes. "I don't know," she said. "I'm not ready to get married." It was the best way she could think to put it.

"You know, my grandma says, if everybody waited until they were ready to do something, nothing would ever get done," William said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small diamond ring. "I took a big chance coming here, and I think I deserve to go home with an answer."

Mary Ann looked at him with a nervous smile. What was it, exactly, that was holding her back? The farm? Her fellow castaways? Or was it just one?

William was right: he deserved an answer, and maybe it was time for Mary Ann to move on. Maybe it was time for all of them to move on.

She smiled. "Well, then, my answer is yes."


Patti gave a weary sigh as she stepped onto the porch of the general store and looked out onto her quiet, empty town. She did this a lot, standing there and trying to picture it busy and bustling again, like she remembered it being when she was young. Now it seemed like that was never going to happen.

She saw her brother coming her way and gave him a smile. At least, when all was said and done, she still had Jimmy.

"Hey, little brother," she said.

"Hey," he said, joining her on the porch. "Did you hear about Miss Mary Ann?"

"Yeah," she said. "She called earlier." Patti gave a sad sigh as she thought about everything that was happening, and the fact that their new friends would all be leaving soon. And all thanks to this guy, she thought as she saw Merryweather coming down the road, walking with that irritating swagger that rich people always seemed to have.

"How are you on this fine afternoon, Mayor?" he asked with a smug grin.

"Not as good as I'll be when you leave," she said, matching his grin with an equally cheeky one of her own.

"Well, then I have good news for you," Merryweather said. "I came to request a check-out from your charming little inn."

Patti's smile suddenly became more genuine. "Oh, giving up, are you?" she asked.

"On the contrary," he said, reaching into his jacket. He pulled out a small stack of papers, unfolded them and held them up so she could see Mr. Howell's signature on the bottom line. "I got precisely what I came for."

Patti's face fell. She grabbed the papers from him, examined the signature, and then practically threw them back to him. She stormed past him to where the twins' truck was parked, with Jimmy hurrying behind her.

"I'll just wait here, shall I?" Merryweather said.

"You'll just get out of my town," Patti said.

"But not before you check out," Jimmy said quickly. "You still have to pay your bill." He barely managed to jump into the truck before his sister drove away.


The Professor stood on the porch, leaning against the railing and looking out on the fields that they had all worked so hard on for so many months, all for naught. The truly unfortunate fact of the matter was that everything had proceeded precisely as he had expected. Gilligan had kept his feelings to himself, and so Mary Ann had chosen to move on. Ginger had chosen to return to Hollywood to salvage her career. Mr. Howell had done what he always did and made a businessman's decision. Everyone had made their most logical choice, and here was the result.

The Skipper sat behind him in one of the rocking chairs, deep in thought. "I don't know what to do, Professor," he admitted in frustration.

"To which particular problem are you referring?" The Professor asked, turning to his friend.

"Either of them." Skipper shook his head. "I wish I could do something for my little buddy."

"Well, Skipper, you tried. We all tried."

"Hey, guys," Gilligan said, coming onto the porch.

"Hello, Gilligan."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"You," Skipper said with a pointed glare.

"Oh, well, don't let me stop you," he said. He tried to hurry back into the house, but the Skipper's "Gilligan!" cry kept him in place.

Skipper rose from his chair to face his first mate closely, and spoke in the familiar tone that he used when he was struggling to keep his patience in check: "Gilligan, are you really telling me that you're just gonna let Mary Ann get married without telling her how you feel?"

"Yep."

Before Skipper had a chance to lose his temper, Mrs. Howell joined them and the conversation turned her way, much to Gilligan's relief.

"Mrs. Howell," Professor said. "Have you had any luck?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not," she said sadly. "You know how Thurston can be: when he makes up his mind, it's almost impossible to convince him any other way."

Neither Skipper nor the Professor were surprised, but Gilligan had other worries.

"Skipper," he said. "Please don't make me tell Patti." Most of the time, he was okay with taking the jobs that nobody else would do, but he wasn't sure if he would come back from this one. Skipper was trying to decide if this was, in fact, a Gilligan Job when Patti and Jimmy's truck pulled up in the driveway. They came to an abrupt stop, and Patti slammed the door as she got out.

"Gilligan," Professor said calmly. "I don't believe that will be an issue."

"Where is that selfish, opportunistic snake?" Patti asked, hurrying onto the porch.

"To whom are you referring?" Mrs. Howell asked.

"Your husband."

"Oh, he's upstairs in the office," Mrs. Howell said, waving nonchalantly to the door.

"Thank you," Patti said before storming into the house.

"Skipper," Gilligan said. "It wouldn't be right to go listen in, would it?"

"No," Skipper said, slowly and unsurely. "It wouldn't."

The four of them hesitated for the briefest moment before they all hurried inside and up the stairs.


Mr. Howell was sitting in an armchair in the corner of his office/bedroom, working through his second glass of Vodka. It had been a long, hard day, and the evening was young still. He had no doubt that Patricia would be making an appearance soon.

"How dare you?!" Indeed, there she was.

Mr. Howell picked up his glass and rose from his seat with even more dramatic flair than usual. "How dare I, she asks, after she enters without knocking and slams the door behind her! How dare I do what, Patricia? How dare I sell a property that is legally mine to sell? How dare I make an incredibly difficult decision that you happen to not agree with?"

"How dare you do this to my town?" she asked, coldly. Thurston must have had too much to drink already, because her expression of anger looked astonishingly like Frederick's. "You know how important this was to us."

"I understand," he said with a calm nod. "That's why this was such a difficult decision."

"You mean it didn't have anything to do with the giant pile of money Merryweather offered you?" she asked skeptically.

"Despite what some may think, I do not make decisions based solely on money. Frederick left this property to me because he trusted that I could make the hard choice."

"No, he trusted that you could make the right choice."

"How dare you presume to know what Frederick wanted! You knew him a matter of weeks. I was his closest friend for twenty years."

"And he trusted you to take care of this place. But no. You decided that it was too much work, so-"

"Don't talk to me about work!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the table. "I've worked hard every day for the last forty years! I've built an empire! A legacy! Don't tell me that I haven't earned the right to say 'No'!"

"I have a legacy, too," Patti said. "And you just sold it out from under me."

"Then you build something else. You start over. That's the nature of progress, my dear: one thing ends, and something new begins."

"You say whatever you need to convince yourself," she said. She turned to leave and opened the door to find all of their friends gathered around the doorway. Everyone made a valiant effort to pretend that they hadn't been eavesdropping.

"I'll be at the bar," Patti said as she passed through the small crowd. "Anybody wants to join me, they're welcome."

One by one, everyone followed her except Mrs. Howell, who first went into the bedroom. She found her purse, checked herself in the mirror, and headed for the door.

"Lovey," Mr. Howell said sadly, sitting in his chair again. "Do you hate me, too?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Thurston, I've stood by your side for thirty years, and shall for thirty more. I'm simply disappointed, and I think that our friends need me tonight."

She closed the door behind her as she left her husband alone.
~~~

[WriterGirl]

Hey, some more of this story for you!
~~

For the second time in a month, there was a crowd in the small bar on Main Street. This time, however, there was no celebration.

Patti looked at the group surrounding her. If nothing else, she was grateful that she wasn't alone. She'd always known that when the time came, the moment when the bottom fell out, Jimmy would be by her side, but she hadn't expected to have so many friends there with them. Gilligan, the Skipper, the Professor, and Mary Ann were there, and even William and Mr. Carlisle. All of them drowning their sorrows together.

"There's gotta be something we can do," Gilligan said, for what must have been the hundredth time in the last few days. He looked down the table to the Professor, who was becoming weary of having to repeat himself.

"I'm afraid not, Gilligan," the Professor said. "The land legally belonged to Mr. Howell, and if the papers are signed, as Patti witnessed, then the deal is done."

The finality of the statement hung over the table for a long moment, until they were granted a bit of relief with Mrs. Howell's arrival.

"I hope you'll forgive me for showing up uninvited," she said, giving a sheepish smile.

"No apologies necessary, Mrs. Howell," the Professor said as he rose to offer her his seat. "Please, join us."

"Oh, thank you, Professor," Mrs. Howell said with a smile. She sat down as he pulled a new chair for himself from a nearby table. She looked around the table and was relieved to see all the friendly faces. "I hope you're not all terribly upset with me?"

"Of course not, Mrs. Howell," Patti said with a smile. "We know you did all you could to talk sense into him. He was just more interested in dollars."

"Please don't be too hard on Thurston," Mrs. Howell said. "It was a very difficult decision for him, but he decided that this was what Frederick wanted."

"I can't believe that. Why would he leave us all that money if he knew Howell would just turn around and ruin everything?"

"Honestly, I never quite understood the way Frederick's mind worked."

"Therein lies our trouble," the Professor said. "There's no way to know Mr. Friedman's intentions, and so we can only project our own ideas and motivations onto him. Mr. Howell knew Mr. Friedman as a fellow businessman, and thus assumes that he would make a practical and profitable business decision. You, Patti, saw him as a friend of the town, and were therefore sure that he would remain loyal to your efforts. Of course, the truth lies somewhere in between."

"I wish Ginger were here," Gilligan said. "We could have one of her séances and just ask him."

The Skipper sighed impatiently. "Gilligan, Ginger isn't a real psychic, don't you remember?"

"I remember it was supposed to be a secret," Gilligan said. "Thanks, big-mouth."

Skipper considered whether or not his first mate needed a slap of his captain's hat, but he was quickly distracted by Jimmy's laughter.

"What's so funny?" Patti asked.

"Dollars and sense," Jimmy said. "I just got it. That's good."


Mr. Howell was on his third drink and finally felt like he was getting somewhere. He wasn't sure where that place was, but it was better than the state of guilt he'd been left to wallow in by his friends and, worst of all, his wife. He thought that if anybody was going to understand, it would be Lovey. Did she expect them to stay there forever, putting money and work into a dying town, out of some foolish sense of sentimentality?

Thurston Howell III was not a sentimental man. It was a fact that he was normally proud of.

Of course, as he looked out the window at the land stretching out behind the house, he couldn't help but think of all the man-hours they had wasted on it.

He raised his glass to take another sip and found it empty. As he turned to the table to refill it, he became suddenly aware that he was not alone in the room.

"Drinking alone, Thurston?" Frederick asked from the armchair in the dim corner.

Mr. Howell looked down at his glass. "Yes," he said. "And I think I've reached my limit."

"I think you're right, my friend," Frederick said. "You don't look very good. In fact, you look like you've seen a ghost!" He gave a hearty laugh.

Mr. Howell was not in a laughing mood. "Well, I'm glad you find it funny."

"A bit predictable, perhaps, but I've never been one to pass on an easy target."

"I never considered myself an easy target, and yet here we are."

Frederick furrowed his brow. "Thurston, you'll have to pour me a drink or three if you expect me to keep up."

"I'm speaking of this house, Frederick!" Mr. Howell said, slamming his glass down on the table. "This blasted property, and this godforsaken town. You said you were going to sell it, and instead you saddled me with it."

"Well, don't you like it here?" Frederick asked.

"Of course. That's the problem," Mr. Howell said. "I came here, and met these charming people, and saw this town, knowing that there was nothing I could do for them, knowing that I would have to sell."

"Now why would you do a foolish thing like that?" Frederick asked.

Mr. Howell pointed angrily at his friend. "You're lucky that you're already dead."

"That's a matter of opinion."

"This town is a fool's venture," Mr. Howell said. "It's better to let it die quickly than to leave it in this state forever. Something has to end, so something new can begin. That's the nature of progress. It's the nature of business."

"What's business for you is personal for somebody else."

"I understand that."

"Of course you do," Frederick said. "That's why I left it to you."

"Oh, is that why?" Mr. Howell asked.

"Naturally," Frederick said. "Nobody else would have given the matter a second thought, much less come to see it for themselves. I was counting on you as my friend, and that sense of noblesse oblige you've always been so proud of. I thought you'd see in it what I did: something rare and beautiful struggling to survive. I wasn't counting on the 'Wolf of Wall Street' growing his fangs back so quickly."

Mr. Howell needed another drink. The first three were wearing off quickly, leaving him frightingly sober.

Frederick shrugged. "But what do I know? I'm dead."


"Ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six." Gilligan looked up from the group of coins in front of him. "Ninety-six cents."

"Well, congratulations, Gilligan, that's almost a whole dollar," Skipper said, in the overly-sweet voice he used when he felt his first mate was being ridiculous. "It's still not nearly enough to buy back the farm."

"Yeah, I guess not," Gilligan said glumly. "I guess this wouldn't be a good time to ask about a raise, huh?"

The Skipper's glare was enough of an answer to make Gilligan fall silent.

"It's a sweet thought, Gilligan," Mary Ann said, giving him a smile from across the table.

"If sweet thoughts could buy stuff, no one would ever go hungry again," Jimmy said. He didn't seem to notice the barrage of confused looks he got.

"Jimmy tends to get philosophical when he drinks," Patti said. She picked up the bottle of whiskey sitting in front of them, and studied it. "I wonder how well this stuff travels."

"To where are you traveling?" the Professor asked.

"Florida, I guess," Patti said. "We've got family down that way. I wonder if Cousin Peggy's ready to forgive us."

"I've been working on a speech," Jimmy said. "Wanna hear it?"

"No."

"I can't help but think of all the work we put into that place," Mary Ann said sadly. "All that work I did in the fields, and everything Mrs. Howell and Mr. Carlisle did in the house. All that love and elbow grease, for nothing."

"Please don't remind me," Mr. Carlisle said. He had worked a virtual miracle on that house, and it was all about to be torn apart. "Why do you think I'm on my second Double Gilligan?" He looked down into his glass. "You know, once you get past that first bite, it's not so bad."

The door opened, and the group turned to look. Unfortunately, it wasn't Mr. Howell that entered, but Mr. Merryweather.

"You've got a lot of nerve, you know that?" Patti said. It took all of her self-control to stay in her seat.

"Don't be angry with me, Mayor," Mr. Merryweather said. "I was invited."

"By who?" Jimmy asked.

"Whom," Mrs. Howell corrected.

"By me," Mr. Howell said, entering a moment too late.

The Skipper did not have the self-control to stay in his seat. "What is this, Howell?" he bellowed. Gilligan hunched low over the table, sensing a fight coming.

"I beg your pardon," Mr. Howell said. "But I have some business with Mary Ann."

"With Mary Ann?" Mr. Merryweather repeated.

Equally confused, Mary Ann rose from her seat. Mr. Howell reached into his jacket, pulled out a folded paper and set it down in front of her.

"I need you to sign this, if you would be so kind," he said, handing her a pen.

"Well, what is it?" she asked cautiously.

"This will transfer the property into your name," he said lightly, as if it was a completely matter-of-fact procedure.

"My name?" Mary Ann exclaimed. It was almost lost in the sea of reactions from everybody else in the room.

"Yes, just think of it as an early wedding present."

"Hurry, Mary Ann," William said. "Before he changes his mind."

"Or sobers up," Skipper said.

Mary Ann quickly signed her name on the line at the bottom of the page.

"Now just a minute, Howell!" Mr. Merryweather yelled. His smug smirk was nowhere to be seen as he stalked over to confront his "friend". Mary Ann held the precious paper to her chest, as if he might try to physically take it from her, but William and Mr. Howell both stood between them, and the latter was clearly the true target of Merryweather's rage.

"What do you think you're doing?" Merryweather asked.

Mr. Howell pulled out a second document and handed it to him. "I am invoking clause thirty-seven of our contract, which states that both seller and buyer have the right to back out of the sale, for any reason, at any time, within thirty days of the signing."

As Mr. Merryweather looked the document over, Mrs. Howell watched the scene with a proud grin. She hadn't known exactly how he would be convinced, or how he would manage to get out of the agreement, but if anybody could, it was her Thurston. He had rewarded her faith, as he always did.

After finding that the clause Mr. Howell had named did in fact exist, Mr. Merryweather pointed angrily at the paper in Mary Ann's hand. "That will never hold up in court."

"Well, we'll see," Mr. Howell said. "Why don't you gather your lawyers, and I'll gather mine, and we shall settle this like gentlemen?"

"Don't we employ the same firm?"

"Yes," Mr. Howell said with a gleeful smile. "That will make things interesting, won't it?"

"You know, I think that island drove you mad."

"It's quite possible."

Mr. Merryweather gave a small smile as he handed back the contract. "All right, then. I'll see you in court, Thurston."

"I look forward to it, Henry."

When Mr. Merryweather turned, he found Patti and Jimmy standing at the head of the table with twin grins on their face.

"Thank you for the kind hospitality, as always, Mayor," he said.

"You come back now, y'hear?" Patti said, deliberately thickening her accent.

"Byyyeee," Jimmy said, giving an enthusiastic wave.

Once Mr. Merryweather was gone, the room erupted in celebration, with joyous cheers from everyone present. Mary Ann wrapped her arms around Mr. Howell's neck and placed a firm kiss on his cheek.

"Oh, Mr. Howell!" she said. "This is absolutely the most wonderful thing you've ever done!"

"Well, I have to protect the family name you know," he said with a wave of his hand. "We Howells take pride in being generous gift-givers."

Jimmy walked over and gave the millionaire's hand a firm shake. "I knew it," he said. "I knew you were a stand-up guy."

When the younger man walked away, Mr. Howell had to rub something out of his eye. There was so much dust in this saloon. He would have to speak to them about that later.

Patti stepped up to him with a smile. "Howell, I take back...most of the bad things I ever said about you." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

"Jimmy!" she yelled as she turned away. "Put on some music and break out the good stuff!"

After the remaining gentlemen shook Mr. Howell's hand, and gave their reassurances that they always knew he would come around, he was left to answer to his wife.

She placed a soft kiss on his cheek, the one that the younger women had neglected, and took hold of his arm. "I'm proud of you, Thurston. I knew you would make the right choice."

"Well, she was the only logical person for the job."

"Out of curiosity, what made you change your mind?"

"I had a good, long talk with Frederick about it."

Mrs. Howell gave her husband a sideways glance. "You've been drinking Vodka, haven't you, darling?"
~~

[WriterGirl]

Hey, here's an update!
~~~

One Month Later

Summer was on its way, but hadn't quite arrived. The temperatures were warm enough to be enjoyable but cool enough to be comfortable, and the rainy days were beginning to give way to consistently blue skies. The fields that had been smooth brown dirt were now rows of growing green and gold stalks, proof that all of the castaways' hard work had paid off, and that life had returned to the old farmhouse.

What better setting could there be for a quaint backyard wedding?

Mary Ann knew as soon as she signed the papers that she wanted to have her wedding on what was now her farm. It all came down to the fact that this was her home now, not only thanks to Mr. Howell and his legal maneuvering but also all of the work she and her friends had put into it. There was no walking away from it now, and it seemed only fitting for this to be where she officially began the next part of her life.

The day before the wedding shed some doubt on that plan, however, when she awoke to find the sky filled with dark clouds.

Gathered on the front porch with William, Gilligan and the Skipper, Mary Ann pointed to the sky with a sigh. "See what I mean?"

"Oh, darlin', that's nothing to worry about," William said.

"Really?" she said. "You want to get married in the rain?"

"Those aren't real storm clouds," he said. "Besides, they'll be gone by tomorrow."

"Sure, Mary Ann," Skipper said. "Those clouds aren't gonna give us anything more than a quick shower."

"Are you sure, Skipper?" she asked.

He gave her a confident grin and pointed to the sky. "I can tell you, from my years of experience, that those clouds will not be any problem."

Gilligan looked over the Skipper's shoulder and gave Mary Ann a skeptical look, thinking about the morning they were nearly drowned in the lagoon thanks to the Skipper's weather-reading skills.

"If you're sure, Skipper," Mary Ann said.

"If I'm wrong, we will personally decorate the inside of the house for you."

"We?!" Gilligan repeated. The Skipper threw him a glare over his shoulder. Gilligan quickly nodded in agreement. "We will! Sure we will!'

Mary Ann gave Skipper a grateful smile, her fears apparently assuaged. "Thanks, Skipper."

She went into the house with a spring in her step. William gave his own smile and "thank you" before following her.

Gilligan waited until the two of them were alone to anxiously ask Skipper: "Why do we have to do it, Skipper?"

"Well, who else is going to?" Skipper said impatiently.

"How about them? It's their wedding."

"What's the matter, Gilligan?" Skipper asked, his voice dripping with condescension. "Don't you want Mary Ann to have a nice wedding?"

Gilligan hesitated. Even he could tell that it was a trick question, so he might as well be honest: "No."

"Well then, do something about it!"

Skipper slammed the door as he went inside, making Gilligan flinch. He leaned on the porch railing and looked up at the sky. It was definitely going to rain.

He didn't know why everybody was so annoyed with him. It wasn't any of their business. And what was he supposed to do, anyway? Just tell Mary Ann not to marry William? If she didn't want to get married, than she wouldn't have said she would.

And besides, why would someone like Mary Ann pick someone like Gilligan over someone like William? Everyone liked William. Even Gilligan. He was a great guy. Mary Ann needed someone like him, someone who could protect her and help her with stuff, not someone who messed up everything he touched.

Gilligan heard the front door open, and turned to see Mary Ann coming outside.

"Oh, I didn't know you were still out here, Gilligan."

"Oh, yeah," Gilligan said. "I was just..." He looked down at the porch railing. "Making sure these rails were holding steady." He tried to shake it, but it held firm. "Yeah, they're in there good."

"Well, good," she said with short nod. "How about taking a break from inspection duty and taking a walk in the fields with me?"

"Sure," he said, hurrying down the steps.

"Well that didn't take much convincing."

"Oh, I like going places with you, Mary Ann."

She gave him a grin, and he felt himself blush.

"Well, I'm going to the crossroads to see how it looks for tomorrow," she said, before she started down the path.

"Oh." Gilligan briefly thought about how he could get out of it without hurting her feelings, but then found himself following after her anyway.

They spent a few long minutes in silence, each of them searching for something to say. Mary Ann couldn't remember it ever being this hard before. She'd always been able to tell Gilligan anything. Over the years, they had talked for hours about butterflies and pie and Skinny Mulligan and her favorite ice cream parlor, but now that she had so many important things to say, she couldn't find the words for them.

She looked at the rows of wheat that they were passing by, and sighed. "It's hard to believe everyone will be leaving after tomorrow."

It was hard for Gilligan to believe, too. It was hard for him to think about everybody going their own ways again. He and Skipper would go back to Hawaii without any idea of when they would see their friends again, left waiting for letters and postcards and the occasional long-distance call to tide them over.

He tried not to think about that, and instead to think of something that would cheer Mary Ann up. "Well, the Professor will still be here," he said. The Professor had decided to extend his sabbatical from teaching in order to help the town. He claimed to be fascinated by the challenges of essentially rebuilding a town (and society) from the ground up.

"And Patti and Jimmy," he added. The twins had been on cloud nine since Mr. Howell and Mary Ann had saved the day. Patti had immediately set to work on all of her ideas for how to bring the town back to life. She was already making plans for fixing their fire engine, and trying to find a reporter from a big city paper to do a story on them, hoping to drum up publicity.

All in all, it was a good time to be in Wayward, Oklahoma.

"Oh, I know," Mary Ann said with a smile. "I'm excited, I am. I'm just going to miss everybody. But I know we can't all stay here forever."

"Yeah."

They came to the crossroads, where the two paths met that cut through the fields. Neither path was any wider than a single-lane road, but it was big enough for their purposes. Mary Ann had already played around with folding chairs and discovered that their small crowd of family and friends would fit comfortably. She had also spent a few hours the day before clearing away any stray brush or leaves or anything that made the area look messy. Standing there and looking at it now, with her hands on her hips, she considered it a job well done.

It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

She looked to her left and right, then sighed. Gilligan noticed that it wasn't her happy sigh.

"What's the matter, Mary Ann?" he asked. "I think it looks nice."

"Oh, sure it does," she said, trying to sound happy and light, and almost succeeding. "It'll be beautiful. It's just...not exactly what I pictured. When I was little, you know."

"Well what did you picture?"

"Roses," she said. "Aunt Martha has a rose garden back home, and I always kind of thought it would be nice to get married in it. Or somewhere like it, anyway."

"Well, why don't you?"

"Oh, I couldn't. It's too far away, and too small. It just wouldn't make sense," she said with a shrug. "Sometimes things just don't work out the way you wanted."

She looked up at Gilligan, who looked like he'd just seen somebody kick a puppy.

"Oh, Gilligan," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about me. Everything will work out. It'll be...perfect."

/

The rain still hadn't started by the time Ginger pulled up to the house that afternoon in her rented convertible. She considered herself lucky that she'd made the entire drive from Muskogee without being pulled over, because she'd been in quite the hurry. Mary Ann's wedding was scheduled to happen in less than twenty-four hours, and Ginger was determined that by that time, Gilligan would say his piece or hold it forever.

Ginger looked through her window and smiled at the sight of the little house that she'd grown to love, and the Professor sitting on the porch steps with a book, as if he'd been waiting for her.

"Hello there," she said cheerfully.

"Welcome back," he said. "How is Hollywood?"

"It hasn't changed a bit," she said nonchalantly. "But they missed me terribly."

"Naturally."

She gave him a smile, grateful to him for playing along with her fib. "Is the wedding still on?"

"As of this morning, yes."

"So Gilligan hasn't said anything?" she asked.

"Mum has been the word."

"Well, I think it's time for a new one."

With his usual impeccable timing, Gilligan came down from the porch with a cheerful spring in his step. "Hey, Ginger!"

"Gilligan, you're just the man I wanted to see."

"Well bye Ginger," he said, making a U-turn.

"Stop right there." She hurried after him and grabbed him by his arm.

"Last time I was the man you wanted to see, I ended up in the lagoon."

"I promise I won't throw you in the lagoon," she said.

"Oh, no, I jumped, remember?"

"Gilligan, I didn't come here to talk about how you ended up in the lagoon."

"I know what you came to talk about," he said. "But I don't wanna talk about what you wanna talk about."

"Well, then go talk to Mary Ann," she said.

"I'd rather jump in the lagoon again."

"You mean to tell me that you'd rather watch the girl you love marry somebody else and live happily ever after on land that you put your blood, sweat and tears into, while you're a thousand miles away on the unforgiving sea?" Her voice took on a dreamy, dramatic tone that sounded like she was watching it all play out in front of her eyes.

"Yes."

He took her moment of exasperated silence as an opportunity to flee.

"Perhaps you would have better luck with the bride," the Professor said.

Ginger received a warm, if crowded, welcome when she walked through the front door. Before she could even announce her presence, she was getting greetings and hugs from Skipper, the Howells, and even Aunt Martha. And that was before Mary Ann came hurrying down the stairs.

"Ginger!" she squealed. "You're here!" She landed on the doorstop and gave the redhead a tight hug. "And not a minute too soon. We need to have our rehearsal before it starts raining."

"Just let me put my bags upstairs," Ginger said. Gilligan gave her a sideways look as he lugged her suitcase onto the bottom steps. "I can't wait to show you my Maid of Honor dress. It's just like my gold gown, except that instead of beading it has rouching, instead of a V-neck it has a scoop neck, and instead of beige it's dark blue."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! And I can't wait to show you my gown. Come on!"

They hurried up the first few steps, only to be stopped in their tracks by Ginger's stalled suitcase.

It took all three of them to carry it into the girls' room.

"Ginger, what is in here?" Mary Ann asked.

"I only packed for a few days," Ginger said.

"No wonder," Gilligan said. "You saw what she packed for three hours. Imagine what she packed for three days!"

"Oh, hush, Gilligan," Ginger said. "Put it down on my bed."

The three of them gave a collective grunt as they heaved it onto the bed.

"Thank you, Gilligan," Mary Ann said as they all stretched out their sore arms. "Will you let us know when Patti and Jimmy get here for the rehearsal?"

"Sure, Mary Ann."

Once Gilligan was gone, Ginger noticed the white dress hanging on the outside of the closet door.

"Oh, Mary Ann!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to admire it closer. "It's beautiful."

"Isn't it?" Mary Ann said with a smile. "It was my mother's."

"She had very good taste."

Mary Ann sat at her vanity and began to fix her hair. True, tonight was only the rehearsal, but she was the bride, and she had to look her best. Ginger leaned over the brunette's shoulder to examine herself, but found nothing to fix. So instead, she looked at her friend's reflection. She looked every inch the glowing, beautiful bride.

"Are you nervous?" Ginger asked.

"No," Mary Ann said. "Why?"

"Oh, I was just wondering," Ginger said, turning away with a shrug. "You know, the nervous young bride and all that." She took a seat next to her suitcase on the bed.

"Well, I'm excited," Mary Ann said. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you're sure about everything," Ginger said. "I mean, a month is a pretty short engagement, and you two have only been going together since we've been back. And you haven't even been in the same town for most of it."

"You think I'm making a mistake," Mary Ann said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. In fact, it was practically an accusation.

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to." Mary Ann stood and placed her hands on her hips. "You're thinking what everybody else is thinking."

"Well, if you don't mind telling me what I'm thinking," Ginger said crossly.

"You think that I shouldn't marry William," Mary Ann said. "You think that we're rushing into things or that I'm too young. Everybody always thinks that I'm too young. It's 'Little Mary Ann this' or 'little girl that', until something needs planting or washing or sewing. Well, I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions. I know what I want, and I can say it, and I deserve somebody who can do the same." Her confident expression faltered for the briefest of moments before she continued: "And if I want to marry William or...or Horace Higgenbotham or Skinny Mulligan, that's my decision, and you can just butt out!"

Afraid that she might either cry or begin to throw things if she stayed, Mary Ann hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Ooohhh!" Ginger let out a growl of frustration. She looked around for something to throw, but found only her pillow. She picked it up and threw it to the door with all her strength, forcing the Professor to duck out of the way as he entered.

"Can't you knock?" Ginger asked.

"Well, of course," the Professor said. "I would have, had I expected such a greeting."

"What do you want?"

"I thought I heard Mary Ann leave."

"I think all of Oklahoma heard Mary Ann leave," Ginger said.

"I take it she wasn't receptive to your advice?" he asked, in that irritating teacher voice that one used when they already knew the answer.

Ginger was in no mood for it, and the look she gave him made it clear. "Our 'little Mary Ann' picked a fine time to put on her big-girl pants." She looked to the floor. "I suppose that's it, then."

"Yes, I suppose it is." His even, almost indifferent, tone made it clear that he had realized it long before.

/

Ginger had unpacked half of her suitcase by the time Gilligan re-appeared to tell her that the twins had arrived. When she asked him where Mary Ann was, however, he had no answer.

When she got to the crossroads, the twins were already there, with Gilligan, William, and the Professor. Jimmy stood in the center, with his guidebook of ceremonies open in his arms, ready to happily perform his duty as the Justice of the Peace.

"Where's Mary Ann?" William asked.

"She went for a walk," Ginger said quickly. "To get some fresh air. I thought she'd meet us here."

"Well, we can't get this started without the bride," William said. Jimmy sadly closed his book. "Somebody better go find her."

"I'll go," Gilligan said eagerly.

"All right. I'll go look towards the house, and you go back towards the pond."

"Yeah." With a little maneuvering, they managed not to crash into each other as they went their separate ways.

Patti looked back and forth, from Ginger to the Professor, then to her brother. "Well," she said. "While they're gone, let's get a head start."

"Without the bride?" Jimmy asked. "Without the groom, sure. But without the bride?"

"Well, you can practice your part," Patti said. "Rehearse for the rehearsal, so to say." She took hold of Ginger's arm and led her to the makeshift altar. "Lucky for us we have an honest-to-goodness actress here to play a bride."

"Yes," Ginger said flatly. "Lucky me."

Standing on her mark, Ginger watched helplessly as Patti took hold of the Professor's arm and steered him into place across from her.

"There," Patti said, as both she and Jimmy looked happily at their replacement couple. "I think they'll do nicely, don't you?"

"Yep," Jimmy said, and he opened his book again. He cleared his throat and began to read, in a clear and solemn voice: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...to remember Fire Chief Bill. Oh, wait. That's an old one." He turned a few pages. "There we go." He looked back to the "bride and groom." "I think y'all are supposed to look at each other."

"That makes sense," Ginger said, following his direction. She forced a smile, and the Professor returned the favor.

"And hold hands," Patti added.

The Professor dutifully followed her order, taking Ginger's fingers into a stiff and formal hold. "I thought this was merely for Jimmy's benefit."

"Setting is everything," Patti said.

"Dearly beloved," Jimmy said. "We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a sacred institution, not to be entered into lightly. It's only to be taken on after years of building trust, love and most importantly, friendship."

As they listened, the replacement couple visibly relaxed. Their smiles became more natural. She slipped her hands further into his. This wasn't so bad. It was actually kind of nice.

In Ginger's mind, the only problem was that it wasn't real.

Jimmy continued: "It is friendship- the joy of being in each other's presence- that allows us to make it through the day-to-day, week after week, year after year. Without friendship, or love, life would be boring."

Ginger and Professor shared a knowing smile. Whatever it was built from, their life together had certainly never been boring.

"Here we are!" William cheerfully announced himself as he and Mary Ann walked down the path.

"Wonderful!" the Professor exclaimed, dropping his hold on Ginger's hands. She put them on her hips and glared at him, but he didn't notice. Well, that was fine by her. She had more important matters to deal with anyway.

As William and Jimmy talked, Ginger went to Mary Ann's side. "I was afraid you weren't going to show up."

"Really?" Mary Ann asked. "I thought that was your goal."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry that I meddled. You were right: it's none of my business."

Mary Ann gave her a sweet smile. "I'm sorry I was angry. I know you were just trying to help."

"Am I still your Maid of Honor?"

"Of course!"

A few minutes later, the entire wedding party was gathered at the crossroads. Jimmy stood in the center, with William to his left and William's brother behind him in his Best Man spot. Mary Ann, Uncle George and Ginger waited down the path for their cue.

The cue was Patti starting the record player and the Wedding March beginning to play. Gilligan, standing next to her, watched as Mary Ann came down the path, holding onto her uncle's arm. Once Gilligan looked at her, he couldn't look away. It was like he was hypnotized by how pretty she was.

Mary Ann kept her eyes on her groom. She didn't dare to look away.

She stepped into her place across from William and tried to return the smile that he gave her.

"Okay," Jimmy said. "Once everyone's in line, I get to talk! 'Dearly beloved-'" His next few words were drowned out by the sound of thunder. "-this man and this woman in holy matrimony.'"

Mary Ann and William looked up to the sky as rain dropped down on them.

/

Gilligan sat at the kitchen table, his head resting on his hand, as he watched the Professor put the record player back together. "You think it'll still work, Professor?"

"Oh, sure," the Professor said. "It simply suffered slight water damage. Now that everything has been dried, it should work perfectly." He put the record on, dropped the needle, and the sound of the Wedding March filled the kitchen. He gave a satisfied nod and quickly turned it off.

"Good job, Professor," Gilligan said flatly.

"Gilligan, you seem morose."

"Nah, I'm just a little down."

"May I offer a bit of advice?"

"Is your advice to take Ginger's advice?"

"Yes."

"Then no."

"Well," the Professor said. "If she asks, tell her that I tried."

"Tried what?" Ginger asked as she walked into the room.

"Tried to talk me into what you tried talking me into," Gilligan said.

"Well, of course," Ginger said. "He's smart enough to know I'm right."

"How are the decorations coming along?" the Professor asked.

"Great," she said. "Even if it rains, Mary Ann's going to have the wedding she always wanted." She glanced at Gilligan. "Or as close as we can get."

Gilligan didn't hear the last part because he was thinking. The wedding she always wanted. He was getting an idea. Or he thought he was. No, he was! He had an idea!

"Gilligan, my boy!" Mr. Howell swept into the kitchen like a man on a mission and went straight to Gilligan's side. Gilligan was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely noticed him, but Mr. Howell didn't let that stop him. "Gilligan, this nonsense has gone on long enough. You must speak to Mary Ann. This is the time for action, for taking a stand. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. If you don't vote for yourself, you don't deserve to win!"

Gilligan stood up. "You're right."

Ginger gave a loud, horrified gasp. Gilligan hurried from the room, leaving her with only Mr. Howell to aim her wrath at. If he hadn't known that it was physically impossible, the Professor would have sworn that he felt heat emanating from her gaze.

"Well, I'm sorry, my dear," Mr. Howell said, rather unconvincingly. "I can't help it if I'm a natural motivator. When Thurston Howell says 'Jump', men jump!"

"You can both go jump!" she said.

/

Gilligan didn't make it more than a few feet into the living room before he found himself on the floor.

"Gilligan," the Skipper said as he pulled him up. "Why don't you ever watch where you're going?"

"I'm sorry, Skipper," he said. He looked around the room and saw that all the furniture had been moved towards the walls, including the ottoman that he had tripped over. "Who put the footstool there?"

"I did. We had to move all of the furniture to make room for the wedding."

"I thought you said the rain is gonna move out by morning."

"It will," Skipper said. "This is just in case."

"Oh, good." Gilligan went to the stairs, where Patti was busy making a daisy chain to hang from the staircase railing. "Patti, will you help me?"

"With what?" she asked.

"I need to borrow your truck," he said. "And do you know where I can get some roses?"

Patti rested her flowers on her lap as she thought for a minute. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"

Ginger had taken Gilligan's place at the table, and she was sitting there pouting when Gilligan and Patti ran into the kitchen.

"Ginger, will you help us?" he asked.

"No."

"Okay." He turned to leave before he made her any angrier.

Her curiosity got the better of her, however. "Help with what?"

"My present for Mary Ann."

/

When Mary Ann awoke the next morning, sunshine was streaming into her room. She hurried out of bed and to the window. The sky was blue and the few clouds she saw were as fluffy and white as her pillow. The Skipper had been right: the rain had passed through and left her a beautiful wedding day.

Wedding day. Just thinking the words put butterflies in her stomach. That was normal, though, wasn't it?

Loud thumps came from outside her door, the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs. As she turned, she noticed that Ginger's bed was still made up. Had her Maid of Honor been up all night?

It wasn't Ginger who came bursting through the door, but Gilligan. He had a grin stretching across his face, but the first thing Mary Ann noticed was that he was soaked to the bone and covered in mud.

"Gilligan!" she exclaimed. "Look at you."

He looked down at himself. "Oh, yeah. I've been working all night."

"In the mud?"

"Yeah, I had to," he said. "Come on, come and see." He grabbed her by the hand and tried to pull her to the door, but she pulled him right back.

"Gilligan, I can't go out there now."

"But you have to," he said desperately. "You have to see. Please. It'll only take a minute."

She couldn't resist his pleading tone. "All right. Let me get my boots on."

She wore her pajamas and her rain boots as Gilligan pulled her down the stairs, and out the front door. They went across the front porch so quickly that she barely had time to notice Ginger and Patti, or how muddy they both were.

The Professor followed them out and watched from the porch. "Well, it really is out of our hands now."

Ginger looked down at her hands. "Oh, my poor nails."

"Ginger, I assure you that you've never looked lovelier."

She gave him a grin. "Professor."

Patti looked across her to him. "Huh. I didn't know you had a degree in Smooth Talk."

/

They stopped in the middle of the crossroads, and Mary Ann looked around her. A hundred yards in every direction, red roses lined the path.

"Oh, Gilligan."

"I wanted you to have your rose garden." She turned and looked up at him, her brown eyes staring into his. He pulled his cap off and wrung it nervously in his hands. "See, the thing is...I love you. I'm not sure of a lot of things, but I'm sure of that. I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and your smile is the prettiest thing I've ever seen and it always seems prettier when you're smiling at me. And I don't mind getting up in the morning anymore, cause I like knowing that I'm gonna see you. So I don't want you to marry William. I don't want to lose you, Mary Ann. And I know I'm not the strongest or the smartest or the bravest guy in the world, but I'll try to do all the things a guy should do. I'll carry things for you and open doors for you and pull out your chair and carry you when you hurt your ankle and protect you from monsters and let you have the last piece of pie-"

Mary Ann put a hand to her chest and her eyes filled with tears. Gilligan's eyes widened.

"Oh, don't cry, Mary Ann. I didn't mean to make you cry. We don't have to get married today. Just give me a chance."

"Oh, Gilligan," she said. She grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him.
~~~
Here is Mary Ann's wedding dress, for those who are curious.

[WriterGirl]

All righty. Here is the finale of Gilligan's Acres!
~~~

Gilligan's eyes followed the path of the small light moving back and forth in front of him. The Professor was pleased with the results. Gilligan's reflexes and movements were normal, and there were no obvious signs of damage other than the black bruise that surrounded his right eye.

The Professor turned off his penlight, and his patient blinked rapidly, an array of spots floating in front of his eyes.

"Well, there doesn't seem to be any sign of significant damage," the Professor said.

"Besides this," Gilligan said, pointing to his shiner.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. It may swell a bit, but it should heal completely within a week or so."

Mary Ann entered with a cold steak in her hand.

"Oh, dinner is served," Mr. Howell said as she passed.

"It's for Gilligan," Mary Ann said. She gave him a smile as she handed it to him. "Here you go, Gilligan."

"Thanks, Mary Ann," he said, giving her a big smile as he laid it over his eye. Mary Ann leaned lightly on his shoulder, a familiar stance that somehow felt different now. "I guess I can't blame William for slugging me."

"No," Mr. Howell said. "That's how it works, Gilligan: if you steal a man's fiancee, he gets to slug you. Those are the rules of polite society."

"Well, you didn't mention that in your pep talk," Gilligan said bitterly.

"Well, naturally. I didn't want to discourage you."

"Thanks."

"I bet some cake would make you feel better," Mary Ann said.

The word itself made Gilligan perk up. "Do we have cake?"

"Wedding cake. Five tiers of it." She looked over to Mrs. Howell, who had insisted on the height requirement and didn't seem at all bothered by having the leftovers.

"You'll love it," Mrs. Howell said cheerfully. "It's from the chicest bakery in Manhattan."

/

Ginger smiled as she cut off a piece of cake decorated with a small frosting rose. She slid the slice onto the last plate, covered the cake with a glass dome, and went into the dining room to join the others.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Mrs. Howell was saying to Aunt Martha. "Kansas is right on the way to New York." She paused for a moment. "Isn't it, Thurston?"

"In a manner of speaking," Mr. Howell said. "Of course, everything is 'on the way' when you own the plane." He gave a small laugh. "Skipper, you're still invited to join us."

"Thank you, anyway, Mr. Howell," Skipper said with a smile. "But I don't think Hawaii is on the way to New York. And besides, if I can't be on the sea, I prefer the ground. I'm perfectly happy to take the train."

"Well, Skipper, you can ride along with me to California," Ginger said.

"In that gorgeous little hotrod?" he asked with a giddy smile. He had been admiring the car since he'd first seen it sitting in the driveway.

"Why, sure. It'll be fun. And I could use a navigator."

"Well, you've got a deal." Skipper even leaned past Gilligan and Mary Ann to shake Ginger's hand.

Mr. Howell folded his napkin and dropped it onto the table. "James. Before we leave tomorrow, I'd like to inspect the theater. I'd like to see where all of my money has gone."

"I need to take a look, too," Ginger said. "I need to know the rest of his money should go." She gave the millionaire a smile from across the table.

Honestly, Ginger was mostly looking to assuage her guilt as much as anything. Ever since she'd left for Hollywood, she'd missed the little theater and couldn't stop feeling like she'd abandoned it. Though she still wasn't sure how she was going to balance the project with (what was left of) her film career, she was determined to follow through and see the Wayward Community Playhouse come back to life.

/

The next day brought a bittersweet air and more dark clouds hanging low in the sky. The travelers set about the business of preparing to leave, putting off their good-byes until the last possible minute. Skipper knew that the time had come when he stepped onto the porch and found that the large pile of luggage that had been there that morning had been whittled down to a pair of small suitcases.

"Hey, Skipper," Gilligan said, climbing the front steps. "Everything's almost ready to go."

"Yes, I see," Skipper said. Gilligan reached for the last two suitcases, but Skipper held an arm out to stop him. "Well, wait a minute, Gilligan."

"Wait for what?"

"Well, I just..." He just wasn't ready for it yet. He wasn't ready to leave his Little Buddy behind to start a new voyage without him. "I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, that's all."

"I know what you wanna talk about, Skipper," Gilligan said.

"You do?"

"Sure. You're worried I'm gonna mess everything up," he said with a sharp, defensive tone. "Well, I'm not. I can handle things. I can be the man of the house. I was the one who got up at sunrise this morning to fix the roof, you know."

"The roof? Didn't we just fix the roof last week?"

"Yeah..."

Skipper laughed as he put an arm around Gilligan's shoulders. "Little Buddy, I'm not worried about you," he said. "Well, I am. But mostly I'm proud of you."

"You are?"

"Sure, I am," Skipper said. "My Little Buddy's all grown up. And...well, the Minnow won't be the same without you, but I have faith in you, Gilligan."

Gilligan grinned up at the Skipper. He'd waited a long time to hear all that. "Skipper, you don't know what that means to me."

Their eyes slowly wandered away from each other and to the porch that surrounded them. They waited for the disaster that almost always ruined sweet moments like this one.

But the moment passed without anything falling on them, and they shared a sigh of relief.

/

Ginger stood outside the Professor's door and steeled herself for yet another good-bye. You would expect that after so many farewells she'd grow used to them, but it seemed like every one was more difficult than the last.

She knocked, and it took only a few seconds for the Professor's voice to call: "Come in."

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The Professor was already standing at his desk, a paperweight holding his book open on the surface behind him.

"You're about to leave?" the Professor asked.

"Yes," she said. "Again."

They fell silent for a moment. The Professor searched for something to say besides the one thing at the front of his mind.

"Do you have any idea when you'll be returning?" he asked.

"Not yet. It depends on how my auditions go," she said, trying to sound optimistic. "You'll watch over the place for me, won't you?"

The Professor nodded. "I've already sworn to Uncle George, Aunt Martha, and the Howells that I'll keep a sharp eye on both the place and the people."

Ginger smiled at the idea of the poor Professor having to play chaperone. "Thank you."

"Of course."

Another silence. Another opportunity that neither of them were willing to take.

"I'll call you from California," she said.

"Have a safe trip," he said.

She turned for the door.

"Ginger."

She spun back around. He felt himself freeze under her gaze like a deer in headlights.

"Yes?" she asked.

He hesitated for a long moment before he managed to say: "It seems that I was wrong."

Ginger's heart lept. "About what?"

The answers ran through his mind. He's been wrong about Gilligan and Mary Ann, he'd been wrong about Mr. Howell, and just maybe he had been wrong about the two of them.

"Quite a few things, it seems."

The answer was more than she'd expected and still less than she wanted. It was a small step, but more importantly, it was a first one.

She gave him a small smile. "Your secret is safe with me."

/

When Ginger stepped out onto the porch a few minutes later, her eyes were immediately drawn up to the clouds. They were hard to ignore.

"Well, let's not dawdle," Mr. Howell said, standing by his black limo in the driveway, his wife and two traveling companions beside him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Howell," Skipper said. "We have another few hours yet before those clouds let loose."

"You'll forgive me if I'm skeptical of your forecast, Captain. I've been caught in a few of your sunny days."

Skipper gave him an annoyed look, but before he could do anything more, Mary Ann came out. She handed the Skipper the smaller of the two picnic baskets that she carried.

"Here we go," she said.

"What's this?" Skipper asked.

"I made you some sandwiches and snacks for the road," she said, taking the larger basket to Aunt Martha.

"Oh, thank you, darling," Mrs. Howell said with a grin. When she reached out to touch the younger woman's cheek, she felt tears coming to her eyes. They didn't escape Mary Ann's notice, and she wrapped her arms around Mrs. Howell in a tight hug.

Watching from the porch, Ginger felt her own eyes filling with tears. She'd already said her farewell to her roommate, but now she felt bittersweet emotion overwhelming her again. With a whine, she felt herself hurrying down the steps and pushing her way into the hug.

Mr. Howell's gave the trio of women a terrified look that baffled the other men. "Goodness me, it's Honolulu all over again."

"Now, stop that caterwauling," Martha said, gently prying the women apart. "There's nothing to cry about. Nobody's heading off to war."

"Martha is right," Mrs. Howell said authoritatively, straightening herself in an attempt to regain her composure.

"Sure," Ginger said. "We're just going home."

"That's right," Mrs. Howell said, patting her arm gently. "And we really must be running along."

When Mary Ann finally made her way back to the porch, she gave the Skipper a big grin and a tight hug. With his arms wrapped around the little brunette, he looked down at her.

"You'll take care of my Little Buddy, won't you?" he asked.

"You can trust him to me, Skipper."

"I know I can."

Mary Ann gave him a peck on the cheek, and the Skipper hurried away before she could notice the tears collecting in his eyes. Not that he was crying. It was dusty.

The cars were pulling away when Gilligan came outside. He'd deliberately hidden himself away to avoid the last round of good-byes, and the tears that were sure to come with them. But now that it was safe, he held Mary Ann's hand as they watched the cars drive out of their sight.

Even when they were gone, the two of them stood there together.

Slowly, their smiles faded.

Now what?

/

Jimmy was waiting outside the theater when they pulled up. Uncle George and Aunt Martha hung back to chat with the limo driver as Ginger, the Skipper and the Howells walked up to the door. As she passed the small box office, Ginger noticed that it was now encased in shining new glass.

"You folks here for the farewell tour?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes, let's hurry this along," Mr. Howell said. "Our weekly allowance of sunshine is running out."

"All right, then." Jimmy held the door open and motioned them inside.

Ginger let out a small gasp as she stepped into the lobby. New glass was not the only change. Tbe lobby was now bright and clean, and its hardwood floor perfectly polished. The sunlight reflected off the chandalier above them, which had been cleared of its cobwebs and tightened to the high ceiling. Looking to the stairs on her right, she saw that the torn carpet had been pulled up to reveal beautiful wooden steps underneath. Ginger laid a hand on one of the repaired railings, almost as if she had to make sure that it was real.

"Well, I see you've already made some improvements," Mr. Howell said, looking around in confusion.

"Yeah," Jimmy said happily. "The Professor's had us hard at work."

"The Professor?" Ginger asked.

"Yeah. Well, Gilligan and I did a lot." Jimmy smiled proudly. "I fixed the roof."

"Thank goodness," Mr. Howell muttered.

"But the Professor was in charge. He wanted to get a lot done before the wedding."

Before I got back, Ginger thought.

She looked at the doors to the auditorium, the same doors she'd seen months before, but with shining new brass handles. She pulled them open and walked through.

It felt like going through a portal into another time when the building was vibrant and new. She walked down an aisle of soft carpeting, through a sea of seats covered in plush red upholstery. She made her way to the stage, a mish-mash of boards, old and new, that stood strong beneath a majestic red curtain.

From atop the stage, Ginger looked out, but barely noticed her friends standing in the aisle. All she could see was her beautiful theater. Her rose garden.

Jimmy stepped to the edge of the stage and looked up at her with a grin. "We did good, huh?"

Ginger sighed. "It's perfect."

"Well...the seats in the balcony and the boxes aren't all done yet. And the projection room needs a projector. And the screen still needs fixing. And, you know, we need something to do with it."

Ginger gave him a smile. "You leave that to me."

After she came down from the stage, she went straight to the Skipper. "Skipper, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take the train."

He did a double-take. "You don't mean you're staying?"

Ginger nodded.

"Well...I don't understand," he stuttered. "Aren't you going to miss Hollywood?"

"Well, sure, but..." She looked around, and gave a shrug. "Believe it or not, there's more I'd miss here."

/

Mrs. Howell looked at the Skipper, standing in front of the inn with his steamer trunk and picnic basket. "Are you sure you won't come with us, Skipper?" she asked. "We can at least take you to the airport."

"Thank you anyway, Mrs. Howell," Skipper said. "I'm perfectly happy waiting until the morning to catch the train. You folks have a safe flight."

"Thank you, Skipper," Mr. Howell said. "We'll speak to you soon, I hope."

Mrs. Howell grinned. "Who knows? The next time we meet, it may be for a wedding."

Thurston placed an arm around his wife's shoulders to steer her away. "A simple three-tier affair this time, I think, Lovey."

"Oh, pooh," she said with a dismissive wave.

He managed to steer her back to the limo before she stopped. She took in the view of Main Street one more time.

"Thurston," she said, her voice soft and thoughtful. "It is a lovely little place, isn't it?"

He looked around, at the town that he had initially met with horror, and smiled. "Well, it's on its way, I'll grant you that."

Patti stepped out of her store and watched from the porch as the limo pulled away from the inn and passed the Welcome to Wayward sign on its way out of town.

She watched as Ginger said her farewell to the Skipper and drove her rented convertible not out of town, but further into it.

She watched as the Skipper single-handedly carried his steamer trunk into the inn, with Jimmy holding the door open for him.

A few minutes later, Jimmy came out, carrying a pair of sandwiches wrapped in clear plastic. He stepped up to the store and handed one to his sister.

"Thank you," she said.

"Sure," he said, and sat down next to her.

Patti looked up to the sky. The clouds had finally blocked out the sun, and were ready to burst at any minute. But when she looked over to her brother, she found him grinning.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked.

"I can't help it," he said. "I love a happy ending."

/

The rain began as Ginger was approaching the house. She pulled up close to the porch, looked down at the high heels on her feet, and said a quick prayer before she got out and made a run for it. Luck was on her side, and she managed to make it to the door mostly dry and still upright.

When she walked in, she was greeted in the living room by Mary Ann.

"What are you doing here?" Mary Ann asked.

"I'm staying," Ginger said.

Mary Ann gave a knowing smile and crossed her arms across her chest. "Fine by me, if you think you can remember how to do dishes."

Ginger grinned. "Where is the Professor?"

"Upstairs."

Ginger hurried up the stairs and to his door.

Knock-knock-knock.

"Come in."

She opened the door just wide enough for her to slip inside, then closed it quietly behind her. The room was dimly lit by the lamps on the desk and the nightstand.

The Professor glanced up from his book and caught sight of her reflection in the window. He sat up straight and turned to look at the real thing, anxious to confirm that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Upon confirmation that she was actually there, he stood quickly from his chair.

"You're...not Gilligan," he said. The sound of running footsteps had led him to that assumption.

"It's sweet of you to notice," she said.

"You're here."

"So it seems."

"You're delaying your trip?" he asked cautiously.

"Cancelling." She stepped away from the door. "I saw the theater. It's beautiful. Jimmy said it was your idea."

"Yes."

"You did it for me?"

The Professor hesitated. The theater needed to be repaired. It was an important part of Main Street's revitalization. And Mr. Howell needed to see a return on his investment. These were convenient excuses, each true in their own right. They weren't, however, the central truth of the matter.

"Yes, I did."

Ginger's smile grew wide.

"I'm...no expert in the area of romantic expressions," he said. "But I saw that it meant something to you, and it began to mean something to me."

"Professor..." He'd never heard her say it like that. It wasn't excited admiration or teasing chastisement. It was softer. More tender. More loving.

"Is that why you decided to stay?" he asked.

Ginger sighed. "I just suddenly realized...I'm happier when I'm here."

He finally gave her a smile, "I'm happier when you're here, too."

"Well, that's good enough for me."

She made her way to him with a few long strides, grabbed his shirt and pulled his lips to hers. His arms wrapped around her waist and held her tight to him as they shared their first true kiss. There was no prelude of cameras or lessons or making anybody jealous. The only purpose was finally saying what they'd wanted to for years.

When they came up for air, she looked up at him with a grin. "Well. That's a good start."

It was as perfect a moment as they'd ever shared. Until the small section of ceiling came crashing down next to them, sending up a cloud of dust and plaster and letting in a stream of rain.

The Professor looked at the debris on his floor and gave a deep sigh. "Gilligan!"
~~~

Wow. I can't believe that I finally finished it. Or that it took me 11 years. I know now why the world of fan-fiction is littered with abandoned stories. I don't know how many (if any) of you stuck around and followed this through the end, but I want to thank everybody who took a moment to comment and encourage me along the way. This was the first writing that I ever put out on the internet for anybody (and everybody) to read, and I wouldn't have done it without that little push that I got all those years ago. This story has been a whole lot of fun and an amazing learning experience, and I've loved every minute of it.

Thank you.

Karen