Jeeves Knows All
Monday morning found me at the breakfast table poking at my oatmeal sullenly. I actually had no reason for being morose. Cameron had departed early, claiming a prior engagement with Pilates or something of the kind. My oatmeal was more than just a bowl of steaming hot, gray cereal. On the contrary it was loaded with raisins and brown sugar and capped with a crackly, sugar shell, much like that of crème brulee. No, it wasn't my breakfast that made me unhappy.
Jeeves placed a glass of hot Russian tea, sweetened with cherry preserves at my elbow and was making his escape when I decided to speak. "Jeeves." I said, being sure to calm my nerves before I spoke. He still intimidated me somewhat. But I remembered what my mother always said about the staff, 'you must take a firm hand.'
"Sir?" He replied politely. That's one of the things I enjoyed about Jeeves, he's exceedingly polite.
"Dr. Cameron mentioned something to me yesterday." I took a sip of tea, it was delicious.
"Oh?" He waited for me to continue.
"She says that you told her to bring me dinner last night." Get right to the point. I sipped again.
"It might have appeared that I had taken a liberty sir, but Dr. Cameron perhaps…extrapolated that information from my mentioning that I was taking the evening off." He topped off my glass.
"So you didn't suggest to her that she should stop by bearing cartons from Golden Buddha?" I sipped the glass. If you've never had Russian tea you need to stop right now and go get some. It's the perfect thing early in the morning.
"I may have mentioned that historically on our evenings off, our gentlemen and ladies enjoyed take away Chinese food. Will that be all, sir?" He made leave to go, but I halted him.
"I just want to be clear. I know, and I'm sure that you know, that the previous two generations of Jeeves' pretty much ran the lives of the previous two generations of Woosters. You and I also know that given the, ah…mental capacities of the previous generations that this was necessary. I'd like to point out that while I may need some assistance in the housekeeping and wardrobe departments, that I am very capable of managing my private affairs." I sipped the tea again.
"Certainly sir." He waited.
"So you don't need to have any more clandestine discussions with Dr. Cameron. Agreed?" I fixed him with a steely eye.
"Certainly sir," he repeated.
"Okay then. By the way, this is uncommonly good tea." I toasted him with my glass.
"Thank you sir, I'll be sure to keep it in stock for you." He went into the kitchen. He wouldn't do anything so obvious as to bash around the pots and pans, I got the distinct impression that he was miffed.
Oh well, these things happen even in the best regulated of households. I was sure that he'd get over it. I donned my coat, grabbed my cane and headed for the hospital.
On the short drive over, I thought about my situation with Cameron. I still wanted her to return to the hospital, but there was no good way of bringing that up without making it appear that I was wooing her just for that reason. Also, she had never told me what her plans were once she left Princeton-Plainsboro. Right now she was officially on vacation, but still on the payroll. We doctors have a tendency to rack up the vacation.
Since we didn't have any cases I decided to put in a few hours in the clinic. It was a good place for me to hide. I should have been more discrete, but I wasn't and frankly I wasn't in the mood to hear Foreman and Chase wax clever at my expense.
It's funny how spring hay fever brings people to the doctor. After treating yet another case of runny noses and watery eyes, I yearned for a good case of Marburg Hemorrhagic fever, not because it's so horrible and deadly, but just to make things interesting.
I'll admit; I miss my old life, zipping around the world, studying infectious disease. Working with the WHO (not for, non-governmental, governmental agencies suck) helping to cheat death. My work used to save thousands, now I work on a much smaller scale. Regret weighed heavily on me as I stared into the mucus encrusted nostrils of a toddler whose mother was a tad too anxious. "He's got a cold." I informed her.
"But he's so fussy and cranky." She asked, "can't you give him something? My friend's doctor gave her daughter a Z-Pac. That seemed to work."
"We're all fussy and cranky. There are over two-hundred strains of the cold virus. And here's a newsflash, antibiotics only work on bacterial infections. Take him home, give him a warm bath in eucalyptus scented oil, bundle him up in a fluffy blanket and give him something sweet to drink. We'll all feel better." I ruffled the tyke's hair.
She sighed. 'That's it then?"
"I'm sorry. The good news is that Nobel Prize is still out there waiting for someone to figure it out, until then, it's take two Tylenol and call me in the morning." I noted the chart and sent her on her way.
I ran into Cuddy at the nurse's station, I started to turn around to avoid her, but no such luck. "Hey! Have you really been here all day?"
"Yes, just doing my part." I grabbed another chart, hoping to affect the look of a caring physician.
"You don't fool me." She said, with a big smirk on her face. She's a nice looking woman, when she's not about to lord something over me.
"I don't? You're right. Take me away. I'm not a doctor; I'm just a wandering madrigal. Shall I sing 'Greensleeves' for you?" I quipped. I'm a funny guy when I want to be.
"We didn't see that much of you this weekend." Again with the smirk.
"Ah, perhaps not. I was exiled to the pool house. I think Vogler has something against me." I flipped through the chart that I was holding. I was sure that the secret of alchemy was hidden within its curling pages.
"Right. Cameron was hard to find too. Rumor has it the two of you are an item." She was positively gloating.
Have you ever thought that you had all of your bases covered? You know that feeling when you've got something going on, let's say a small infatuation, but you think that it's your secret and that no one knows? So you go about your business and every now and again you get a bounce in your step. If anyone notices you tell them that you got some good news, or that you found a quarter. What I'm getting at is that I like to think that my private life is just that, private. Cuddy's remarks hit me like a freight train.
"Rumor?" I affected my skeptical face.
"The hospital is atwitter with it."
"Atwitter? Cuddy, really, get a dictionary, or better yet, a thesaurus." I shoved the folder back into the stack and headed towards my office.
She followed me down the hall, "so is she coming back?"
I stopped halfway to my office, "I don't know. Why don't you ask her?" I kept on walking.
She called after me, "You'd like that, wouldn't you."
Actually, I would.
When I got to my office I cued up the iPod and turned on my computer. I dreaded wading through my e-mail. After Vogler's ouster I had been showered with messages, mostly congratulatory. What is wrong with people? First of all, I didn't do anything, Cuddy and the board did. Secondly, we all won, not just me.
Most of the messages came from people who wouldn't normally give me the time of day. Doctors who gave me only cursory and grudging respect. I was the "go to" guy when one of their patients was about to go into the ditch. Having me around was like having a safety net, if they couldn't catch it, then I might. I deleted, without reading, most of them.
We didn't have an active case, although two of our patients were still recovering on the premises. Although I had very little contact with them during their crisis, I figured that I was a sitting duck in my office, so I needed an excuse to be elsewhere. I floated up to the rooms and checked their charts.
I don't like to be with the patients when they're on the mend. They're loopy from their meds and relieved to be recovering. They tend to be a bit too effusive in their expressions of gratitude. I checked their charts and discussed their progress with the nurses in charge. As I expected, things were progressing well.
As soon as it was after five, I went back to my office. I found Wilson sitting in one of the chairs trying to play with my Gameboy. He threw it aside when he saw me. "Boy! Am I glad to see you." I braced myself for his comments.
"Really? Go figure. Missed you this weekend." I avoided eye contact and started shuffling papers on my desk.
"I know. Julie has kicked me out." There were a few unpleasant moments of Wilson looking at the floor. "Can I stay with you?" I looked up at him and he seemed to be in earnest. Was it possible that he was so wrapped up in his own drama that he wasn't going to trying to get me to talk about Cameron?
"Has she thrown you out?" I turned off the computer and gathered up my gear for the ride home.
"Not just me, Thor too." He toed the carpet a bit.
"You and the melancholy greyhound? Gosh, she really is cleaning house. I'm guessing the dog is more depressed than you are?" I shouldered my stuff and walked out, he followed me.
"Yes. I'm looking forward to hanging around with you for a change. You and Thor can take turns sighing. It should make a nice change of pace for me. Actually, it's been coming for so long, I'm just glad that the ax has finally fallen. So can I bring my stuff around tonight?" He walked with me out to the car.
I flung my bag behind the seats and opened the door. "I'll tell Jeeves to make up the spare room."
When I got home Jeeves was busy arranging the mail. I nodded at him and dropped my stuff at the front door. He came over to help me off with my coat. "I trust you had a pleasant day sir?"
I sunk into a chair and turned on Access Hollywood. "Tolerably so. Dr. Wilson will be arriving later this evening with a few things. He'll be staying with us for a while."
"Very good, sir. I shall make up the spare room directly. How many will there be for dinner?" He quickly made me a scotch and soda and handed it to me on a small, silver tray.
"I have no idea. Do we have enough for two guests?" I figured I'd hedge my bets.
"Certainly sir. I'll attend to everything." He hovered into the kitchen and to other parts of the flat making ready for our guests. Within the hour the most delicious aromas permeated the air.
At around eight the doorbell rang. It was Cameron. She rubbed my shoulders briefly on her way into the kitchen to see what Jeeves was cooking. About fifteen minutes later Wilson arrived burdened with luggage and a lethargic greyhound.
He handed me the beast's lead and I found myself eye to eye with him. I've always liked Thor. He was a washout as a racing dog, but he made an excellent animal companion. No barking, no jumping, no begging for attention. Just a few sighs and grunts and a head ready for a peaceful stroking. Thor sat down at my elbow and rested his head on my leg.
Cameron emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water, "now that's a picture. Whose is he?" She gave him a pat on the head. He bore it well.
"Wilson's. He's coming to stay for a while. This is Thor." I made the introductions.
Thor hoisted himself up grudgingly and walked up to sniff Cameron. She scratched him on the hind end, slightly above the base of his tail. He didn't exactly hate it. Thor seemed relieved when Wilson returned with a gigantic round cushion, which if I remember correctly, came off of a papasan chair he had when he was a resident.
Wilson stopped abruptly when he saw Cameron, "So it's true." He realized that he said it out loud and regrouped. "Nice to see you. I'll just see if Jeeves can find a place for Thor's things." He dropped the pillow on the floor next to the piano and Thor took himself off to mope in that corner.
Wilson and Jeeves were working out the details of where Thor would dine and where his kibble might be stored. Cameron gave me a hug and a nuzzle on the ear and tried to sit down with me in the large chair. It was a tight squeeze, but pleasant.
Soon thereafter Jeeves rang the gong and we all went into dine. Considering that I had thrown a houseguest, a romantic interest and a large, but well-behaved dog at him, Jeeves acquitted himself brilliantly.
Dinner started with consommé, followed by a chicken fricassee, a salad and for dessert, one of my very, favorite English dishes, sticky toffee pudding. All hot and gooey from the oven. I'm not a man given to smiling but when I dug my spoon into that hot caramel, cakey, goodness I melted. "Jeeves," I sighed with contentment, "you've outdone yourself."
"I endeavor to give satisfaction sir." He bowed formally and exited, leaving me and my guests to savor our dessert.
Wilson licked his spoon, "you know; I could get used to this." I must have had a worried look on my face, because he added, "maybe my next wife will cook."
"You know Wilson, after this one, I'd think you'd be giving this up by now. You've got a very nice dog, why not call it a day?" I scraped my plate for the last morsel of caramel.
"Greg, come on, you know I'm a hopeless romantic." Wilson gave Cameron a meaningful look. He better be prepared to do it vicariously.
"That means he's already got the fourth one lined up." I interpreted for Cameron.
"Ah." She said and tactfully took another mouthful of pudding.
After our meal Wilson took Thor out for a walk and Cameron and I enjoyed a quiet moment alone. All in all a stellar evening.