The Man Who Wasn't All There by David Handler (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

telephone booths there and waved to me. ‘Please hang on a sec, Jeff …’ She put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I’m talking to my agent. What did Dr Eng say?’

‘I’m doing great. She cleared me to start driving.’

‘That’s wonderful news, darling … Jeff? He just got a clean bill of health, so tell them I’m on my way.’ Then she said goodbye, hung up and joined us with an extremely glum expression on her face. ‘The doo-doo has hit the fan in Budapest. They’ve run out of scenes to film without me. I have to be on a six o’clock flight tonight out of JFK. The studio is sending a car and driver out to pick me up at two o’clock.’

I felt an ache in my chest. ‘I was hoping you could stay a bit longer.’

‘So was I, believe me. But I’m under contract. I have to go back.’

‘Of course you do. And you’ll never know how much it meant to see you sitting there by my hospital bed when I woke up.’

She gazed at me with those green eyes of hers. ‘You’re my man. Wild white horses couldn’t keep me away.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was not yet ten a.m. ‘I got us all kinds of goodies for lunch. We still have plenty of time left. I’ll take Lulu to see Dr Jen while you get some rest.’

‘I can take her after you leave.’

‘No, I want to do my part. I insist. Wait right here, OK? I’ll go get the car and pull up outside. Make straight for the car with the wheelchair and ignore the noise.’

‘What noise?’

‘The media horde is back, I’m afraid. Times ten.’

I waited for her to pull up outside the door in the Jag, then pushed Lulu out the handicapped access door and made straight for it, paying no mind to the microphones that were being shoved in my face by the multitude of TV reporters. Although I did notice that Entertainment Tonight and Inside Edition were in on the action now.

‘How does the head feel, Hoagy?’

‘Hey, Merilee, is it true they fired you for walking off the production?’

‘Hey, Hoagy, did Austin Talmadge torture you?’

‘What did he do to your dog?’

‘Merilee, we hear Sigourney Weaver’s replacing you. Any comment?’

‘What did he do to your dog?’

I opened the car door, hoisted Lulu out of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat. Sent the wheelchair rolling toward the front entrance, climbed in, wrestled Lulu into my lap, slammed the door and off we sped, leaving them in our wake as I sat there inhaling the wonderful fragrance of the Italian groceries that were stowed behind the front seats.

Merilee steered us on to Route 9 and headed for home. ‘Here’s what I’m thinking, darling. After I take Lulu to the vet we’ll treat ourselves to a stroll down to Whalebone Cove followed by the world’s greatest lunch.’

‘Don’t you have to pack?’

She let out a snort. ‘I’m an old trouper. I can be ready to go in less than ten minutes.’

When we arrived back at the farm a half-dozen more TV news crew vans were lining Joshua Town Road and a different state trooper with a somewhat less blocky head was parked in front of the gate. He waved and backed up so that we could pass on through. The Hardy Boys had finished with their priming and had taken off. We had the place to ourselves. Sort of. Merilee and Lulu stayed put in the car while I got out and gathered up the grocery bags filled with two loaves of fresh baked bread, fresh mozzarella, sausage and other goodies. Then I kicked the door shut and off they sped to visit Dr Jen.

I headed for the kitchen by way of the mudroom door. Was busy depositing containers of olives, roasted peppers and marinated artichokes in the refrigerator when Merilee’s unlisted business line rang. I answered it.

‘How are you feeling, dear boy?’ It was my agent, the Silver Fox. She’d finished reading the hundred new pages I’d sent her. I could tell from the tone in her voice. Right away, I felt a nervous uptick in my pulse.

‘I’ll be fine. Lulu got the worst of it, actually.’

‘But your head’s clear?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Listen, I’ve read these pages of yours …’

‘Do they seem OK to you?’

‘That’s a bit of an understatement, dear boy. I’m still tingling with excitement. It’s a masterpiece in progress. You have to finish it.’

‘I intend to,’ I said, maintaining a calm, steady voice even though I felt like dancing a jig around the kitchen. And I don’t even know how to dance a jig.

‘How far along do you think you are?’

‘Maybe halfway. Can’t tell for sure. I’m still peeling the onion.’

‘Well, keep peeling. Hold nothing back. Publishers are begging for big books this season, nothing but big books, so if you end up with more than 400 pages it won’t be a deterrent, understand?’

‘I understand. Thank you for taking the time to read it, Alberta.’

‘It was a privilege. I’m so thrilled that you’ve found your voice again, and that it’s bursting with so much confidence, maturity and brilliance.’

‘Stop it, will you? You know how easily my head swells.’

She let out a laugh. ‘Goodbye, dear boy. Feel better.’

I hung up the phone and finished putting the groceries away, beaming. The Silver Fox was famous for her blunt honesty. She didn’t toss praise around lightly. I went in the bedroom and stretched out, feeling elated, not fatigued, but Dr Eng wanted me to take it easy and I was raring to hit the ground running when I went back to work. Motivated beyond belief now.

Merilee wasn’t at the vet with Lulu for long. I got up to greet them when I heard the Jag’s throaty roar come up the driveway. Lulu hopped out, moving much more nimbly.

‘Dr Jen’s very pleased,’ Merilee reported. ‘She gave her smaller bandages that have little cushions to make walking more comfortable. Her New York vet can remove them in