A Writer's Cabin

All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.

~~~

"Dale, nice of you to drop in." Katherine's sardonic smile told me how she really felt.

"I have an appointment."

"That hasn't always mattered in the past." I'd missed one appointment in nearly a year, but Katherine loved to jab me with the nits she picked.

"I suppose. You make bundles off me, though"

"So, that gives you the right to ignore appointments and not even have the common courtesy to let me know."

I'd left my cell phone at a restaurant. "Listen, if you want to drop me from your list of clients, we can work that out. You're getting to be a pain in the ass to deal with. Plus, this office of yours on the forty-fourth floor is a pain. I get an upset stomach riding the elevator." Being from New York and hating elevators did not meld well, but somehow, I'd survived.

"My poor delicate author. Perhaps you should try the stairs."

"Perhaps we should try some Zoom appointments." I wondered why Katherine and I could never have a friction-free meeting. Maybe it was our signs. I'm a Libra and I'd learned earlier that she was an Aries. Silly, perhaps, but there was definitely something. I think we rather enjoyed skirmishing with each other.

"Bars are kind of noisy for Zoom calls."

"You don't know me at all, Katherine. I don't drink in public -- oh, maybe a glass of wine at those idiotic things you schedule for me."

"Those idiotic things sell your books."

I hated to admit that I needed to sell books. I wrote because I loved it and seemed to have a certain talent for it. But I also needed a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Therefore, I needed to sell books, and Katherine was here to help me do just that. And, I had to admit that she'd done a descent job. My bank account assured me of that.

"I suppose you're right."

"Let me mark this on my calendar. Dale Schultz agreed with something I said." She scribbled something on her desk calendar.

"So why exactly did I have to ride the supersonic elevator to see you today."

"I thought I told you that."

"You sent me an email that basically said, be there or be square."

"I'm surprised you'd let a cliche like that escape your lips."

"Talking isn't writing. And some people like cliches."

"On another subject, four chapters of the new book are due today."

"They're only due because you arbitrarily decide they're due. Sometimes fictional writing isn't done on a schedule."

"I thought a brilliant author like yourself could just snap your fingers and magnificiently amazing stories appeared on the computer screen."

"Having never done it, I would expect you to think that."

"What, that you're a brilliant author?"

"You have three of the chapters on the flash drive, and the fourth is nearly complete. What's the rush?"

We want to get it published before the Christmas buying season. People still like to purchase hard copies of books by famous authors."

I was a moderately famous author, even though I didn't often admit it to myself. It made selling books relatively simple, which I enjoyed. But it made the public appearances and book signings that Katherine arranged the

bane of my existence.

I was not a public person, and traveling all over the country was not enjoyable, amd something needed to be done about it. I wasn't sure what just yet.

"I suppose you're right. Put another note on your calendar there fo the mental slip of mine."

"What?"

"I said,

bane of my existence

, another horrible cliche.

Katherine shrugged, but didn't make a note on her desk calendar.

"Also, I have a check for you since you won't simplify things by allowing direct deposits to your bank account."

"I'm old-fashioned, I guess. I hear about bad things happening from that."

"Well, here's your preliminary check for the new book."

I glanced at it long enough to see $100,000 on the amount line. That would hold me for a while. This would be my fifth book, and the first four had been nicely successful, so my bank account was well-stocked at the present time, far beyond anything I'd imagined when I began writing. I folded the check and stuck it in my pocket.

"And we need to review the schedule of personal appearances and book signings I've set up for you."

It was only March, and we were shooting for a September publish date. I couldn't sign books until they were published. Maybe I could get COVID-19 or something and avoid all of that. Katherine had twelve events lined up, some of which would get national attention and some that were small, local events. I had insisted on the latter. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania before we moved to New York, and we had always seemed to be bypassed by everything big or important that happened. I wanted people in those types of places to have access to signed copies of my books if they wanted them.

"Those don't begin until October, so please don't forget about them. I'll send emails to remind you."

"I think your emails go directly to my spam folder. I'll have to check."

"You're impossible. If I didn't make gobs of money from you, I'd dump you in a nanosecond."

"Same here, you know."

We bid each other goodbye, and I left her office. Walking down the hall toward the elevator, I wondered what it might be like to descend forty-four flights of stairs. I was getting hungry and decided I needed plenty of nourishment before I attempted that, so I stopped at the elevator, as always. We made several stops on the way down, which seemed to decrease our peak velocity, and my stomach survived. I wondered if I could find an agent whose office was on the ground floor. Probably not.

~~~

It was an unusually warm March day, so I walked to Zǐháo Wáng's Chinese Restaurant rather than using a taxi or an Uber. Since I ate there often, Mr. Wáng wasn't surprised to see me.

"Some shrimp chow mein for famous author?" were his words of greeting. That was my favorite of the restaurant's offerings, although their menu covered three pages.

"That sounds good, Zǐháo, but keep the shrimp and change the other to fried rice."

"Hot tea and wonton soup?"

It was lunchtime, but I could make it my dinner.

"Of course," I answered, nodding to him and receiving his nod in return.

I checked my phone and had several text messages. I'd changed my number several times, but somehow, people discovered what it was and would send me unwanted texts. They weren't spam or scams, just people talking about my writing. I read several of them since I had nothing else to do, but I stashed the phone when the wonton soup arrived. Mr. Wáng served me personally and sat down as he usually did.

"How is wonton soup today? Breaking in new cook and would like opinion."

"Zǐháo, your wonton is always excellent, and this is no different. Some wonton is more water than anything else, but yours is solid and nourishing."

"Will inform new cook. Will Mr. Dale be wanting take home today?"

"Your food and my microwave seem to get along well, so perhaps the shrimp chow mein would be good."

"Will have when finish. You good customer, Mr. Dale."

"That's because you're a good cook. I didn't have much Chinese until I came to New York, but I'm glad my parents found your restaurant. And," I said, winking at him, "I've included it in my new book. Characters in the book will be eating here."

"Mr. Dale, many thanks. For kindness, today is on me."

I bowed my head to him. "The many thanks is for you, Zǐháo. But I insist on paying."

I knew from experience that when people saw the name of the restaurant in the book, they'd come here to eat, and Zǐháo would be very busy. It made me happy to be able to do that for him, as he always took very good care of me. I saw someone from the kitchen headed for my table.

Zǐháo took the sack and handed it to me. "Chow mein for dinner," he said with a smile.

"Tell me something, Zǐháo. Do you like New York, the big city?"

"I born in Foshan in China and live there till I come here. I think population there is nine million. So, I used to big city. Is important to me as I feel strange when not in big city. You from big city too, Mr. Dale?"

"No, no, I'm not. I come from a small town, and I feel out of place somehow."

"But you famous author. Is important to be in big city for you, isn't it."

I chuckled. "It's easier sometimes, and I suppose important for some things, but it's also annoying most of the time."

"Have friends in China who say same thing about Foshan."

"It's what you get used to, I guess."

"New York big, but not Foshan."

"I think I know what you mean, Zǐháo.

I paid him for both meals and included a nice tip, which I knew he'd divide among his servers.

I left Zǐháo's and walked back to my apartment, which was on the fourth floor and not the forty-forth. I let my mind wander, trying to concentrate on creating a new chapter for the book. But it was difficult with loud diesel buses, emergency sirens, and just the noise and bustle of a big city.

I rode the slow-motion elevator to the fourth floor. Although I could certainly have afforded a nicer place, I was content with the one-bedroom cubby which I inhabited. As I was approaching my door, I heard someone calling to me.

"Hey, Dale. How's it going, neighbor?"

"Hey, Zach. Not too bad for a March day and after a trip to the forty-forth floor."

"Uh-oh, that again. How's your stomach?" he asked with a little laugh.

"We made lots of stops, so it wasn't too bad. I stopped at Zǐháo's and had some fried rice and brought some chow mein home." I held up the bag with the familiar emblem on the side.

"We need to go there. It's been a while, and Talia loves Cashew Chicken."

"That's good stuff. I have it every once in a while."

"Got the book finished?"

"Nearly. A couple more chapters."

"I'm sure you'll be relieved, and the money will be rolling in."

"I suppose. I'm just anxious to get started on the next book."

"Dale, you need to slow down and enjoy the fruits of your labor, whatever they might be. I know that money isn't the big motivation for you, but still, savor all that adulation you receive."

I laughed. "All of that adulation is a pain in the butt, and I could do without it. Book signings and being on The Morning Mirror. And all of that other good stuff, i.e. crap."

I always sensed that it was good stuff, in its own way, but not particularly for me. It was awkward, and the questions they asked were always frivolous and not something that I particularly cared about. I enjoyed sometimes talking about the process of creating and then writing a story, but I'd been told that most listeners found that boring after about thirty seconds of it. They wanted sensational things, like who I was currently sleeping with or what woman I was chasing, things like that. Most of my time on the show seemed to be spent denying rumors as no one seemed to believe that I was a boring guy, content to eat, sleep, and write my books.

'I feel very awkward on that show and others that have had me. People think that if you're famous, you should fit into a particular mold, and I don't."

"I can see that about you for sure."

"But, what the heck are you doing home, Zach? Shouldn't you be working?"

"Yeah, but Talia was sick this morning, and she needed help getting to the doctor, so I took a day of vacation."

"Aw, I'm sorry about that. How's she doing?"

"Much better. The doc said it was probably something she ate, so It's not contagious, thank goodness."

"May I stick my head in to wish her well."

"Let me make sure she's decent." He disappeared for a moment. "Come on in, Dale."

"Hey, Talia, how are you feeling?"

"Better, but that doesn't mean good."

"Aw, sorry."

"I should be okay tomorrow."

I thought she looked pale enough that tomorrow might not do it."

"So, are you still thinking about what we talked about the other day?" Zack gestured for me to have a seat.

I plopped into a lounger. It had been in and out of my mind all day, from my time with Katherine through my lunch with Zǐháo, to now.

"I have, but it's a tough decision."

"Talia and I would hate to lose a good neighbor, but don't let that influence you." Zack looked at the ceiling as he spoke, unsuccessfully stifling a smile.

"I'd hate that too, but that's only one issue. I could go back to Pennsylvania, but for some reason, I'm hesitant to do that."

"Lots of big hills in P-A, but I'm from Ohio, and the climate is similar, but more variation in the topography."

"I like hills, but big hills and snow don't always mix well."

"Take a look at Ohio. And take a look at Caraway Hills in the south-central area. Kind of an older area with rolling hills and lots of nice cabins and cottages."

"Listen, thanks for the information. I've got some work to do, so I'll leave you two alone. Talia, get well, please."

"Thanks, Dale. I hope so," Talia said, rather weakly, I thought.

In my room, I sat at my writing desk, opened my laptop, and searched for Caraway Hills, Ohio. I found two real estate companies that had listings there and saw some very nice cottages, cabins, and luxury homes. I chuckled at the luxury homes. What I had in mind was something like my New York apartment, something simple but adequate.

I didn't want a fixer-upper since I wasn't very handy. I could paint and probably drive a nail, but hanging things on the wall might be a challenge. I was certain there would be videos on the internet to help if I needed them.

As I paged through the cabins, carefully checking details, I knew that I had made my decision without realizing it. I was going to move to Ohio, much to Katherine's chagrin, I was sure. I needed to finish the last two chapters and get the process started.

~~~

"You made quick work of those last two chapters," Katherine said, peering at me over the top of her glasses. "I hope they measure up to the rest of the book."

"I'm sure you can touch them up if they don't."

"I'm your agent, not your editor."

"I must have forgotten. Sorry."

"Yeah, right. Do you have an outline for your next book yet?"

"This one isn't even published yet."

"And speaking of that, I'll email your appearance schedule so you can finalize your plans. "

"Speaking of plans, I've already finalized one."

That got her attention. "Oh?"

"Yes. I'm moving to Ohio." I said it as matter-of-factly as I could.

"Like that's going to happen," she replied with a laugh.

I didn't respond.

Katherine looked up from her computer. "You are teasing me, aren't you?"

"Nope, I made the decision two days ago. We'll soon be Zooming."

"Dale, why would you do a silly thing like that? It makes no sense."

"To you, perhaps."

"To anyone with common sense."

"That leaves me out then, I guess."

"Dale, I'm sensing that you're serious about this. Is there no way to talk you out of it?"

"Don't even try. I'll be off to Ohio next week to find a place to live. And it won't be on the forty-fourth floor, or even the fourth floor."

I ended my time with Katherine and made what I hoped would be my final descent on that miserable elevator. I'd never gotten a chance to try the stairs.

~~~

The drive to Ohio was smooth and uneventful but was over five hundred miles and took nine-plus hours. I'd booked a motel room near Caraway Hills, actually on the edge of Caraway, a small town near the Hills. I checked in and then went out and grabbed some dinner at a quaint mom-and-pop diner. The food was delicious, and I think I had a smile on my face the entire time I was there. Back at the motel, I made some notes regarding a possible new story and then went to sleep.

The following morning, I was ready to go and anxious as well. I'd called ahead to the realty company and talked with Brooke Row, the owner, who said she'd be ready to show me several possibilities. I stopped at the diner for breakfast and was taken in again by the good home cooking.

I made it to the reality company at nine and was greeted by Brooke. I'd never spent much time around women as they tended to distract me from my writing. When I came through the door, a quick glance told me that she was attractive. When she looked at me, I nearly froze. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with her very pale blue eyes. She was the living personification of one of the favorite characters I had created. Not a very pleasant character, unfortunately, but one I enjoyed writing about. I decided not to mention it as I wasn't anxious for people to know I was a writer.

"Mr. Schultz, it's so good to meet you after our messaging. And please call me Brooke."

"I'm just Dale, and I'm anxious to see what you've picked out for me."

"Tell me again exactly what you're looking for."

"I'm really looking for something simple, maybe one bedroom, a decent living area, and some space between me and the neighbors."

"Actually, there aren't many one-bedroom places available. I'm not sure what your occupation is, but a second bedroom could be transformed into a very nice office."

"Good point. I probably could use an office." I didn't volunteer what it would be used for, and she didn't ask.

"Okay, why don't I go with a two-bedroom, then? It would cost a little more, but there are plenty of those available."

"Yeah, that's good. I'm not worried about a few more dollars."

"How about amenities? Would you like a pool?"

"No, I don't need a pool for sure."

"Hot tub?"

That one made me think. I'd been in a few hot tubs, and they were nice.

"It wouldn't be inside the house, would it?"

Brooke chuckled. "Oh no, it would be on the porch or beside the cabin."

My turn to chuckle. Yeah, I guess all that steam inside the cabin wouldn't be good."

She nodded but didn't reply.

"It sounds like you're looking for a fairly basic cabin. Is that a fair description of what you're after?"

"I think so. I mean, I don't want pealing paint or floorboards that you can fall through."

"I get the picture, Mr., uh, Dale. What about land?"

"I'd like for it to be on land." I kept as straight a face as possible.

Her head snapped up from looking at her notebook. I had that innocent look on my face.

"I'll make a note of that. Mr. Schultz does not want a cabin-boat." I enjoyed that she was smiling.

Her easy manner told me we were going to get along fine searching for a cabin.

"I don't want any close neighbors, so if that takes a little more land, that's fine. I'm from New York City, and Central Park was the only view of land that I had."

"Ah, that helps. Are you good at math and visualization?"

"No, and probably no."

Another chuckle, closer to a giggle this time. "Then it probably wouldn't do any good to tell you that an acre is about forty-four-thousand square feet."

I shook my head.

"Are you a football fan?"

"I watch it on TV sometimes."

"Well, a football field is about one-point-three acres. See if you can use that to judge how much land you'd like to have."

I tried to picture a cabin sitting on the fifty-yard line and between the hash marks on a football field.

"Maybe two football fields, then?"

"Let's say about two acres. We might be able to find something like that in Caraway Hills. I'll have to check. Probably nothing like that close to the lake. That would be very expensive lakefront property."

"I don't think I need to be close to the lake. Too crowded, I'd imagine."