mansion —with all the accouterments—” (His eyebrows wiggled gleefully. He owned a hardware store.) “—housekeepers, groceries, gardeners, landscaping, God only knows. Spreadin’ his money around here for years. Forever, if we keep him happy.”
“And how do we keep him happy?” asked the doctor sourly.
The mayor, who’d never liked the doctor, leaned forward ponderously. “By keeping our damned traps shut, my dear sir. No gossip. He wants privacy and plenty of it.”
“But the publicity!” a lady in the second row with suspiciously bright red hair cried out. She edited the village’s local weekly newspaper. “Tourism could explode here if we could take advantage of his presence.”
“Great,” said Skip with a grimace. “People’d be climbing his gates. He’d have to hire bodyguards to get him in and out of the house. He’d be just as much a prisoner here as on tour.
“Listen, folks. People get mad if he’s not good natured with them every second. They stick their noses in his lunch, then complain how stuck up he is if he tries to move over. I know, ’cause he has to do it every day on tour. Think about it. Wouldn’t that drive you people nuts? If he doesn’t find a place to go, a place just to be quiet and rest, he’ll go stark raving crazy. Do you know where he has to go to get away nowadays? Like a vacation? He checks into a hospital.”
“No.” Ms. Bellwood, was aghast.
“Yes,” insisted Skip. He knew it was true because he’d read all about it in the newspaper while eating a snack in Atlantic City. He’d been struck then by how sad that was. “He wants to stroll down into the village and shop, just live quiet, like everybody else.”
“Hear that?” put in the mayor eagerly. “He wants to shop!”
“But—” the red-haired lady began again.
A man in a suit of obvious foreign cut and astronomical cost, a Board member who hadn’t spoken before—Mr. Drexel—held up a single finger, which silenced her. It silenced everybody. He held the second highest executive position in Wyndham’s single industrial business—which paid the majority share of village taxes. He nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that, about the hospital. It’s true.”
Mayor Harper grimaced at him. Deferring to others didn’t come easily to the mayor. “You’re right, sir. You’re a wonderful judge of character, as we all know. When you meet him, you won’t get over just how plain, down-to-earth Phantom really is,” continued the mayor expansively to the entire Board, draping one arm over Skip’s shoulder in a brotherly fashion.
“How would you know?” asked the doctor skeptically.
“Why, Mark told me. True?” he asked Skip.
“Oh, true,” said Skip. He smiled again. His cheeks were beginning to ache.
“Well, great, but you can’t hide him here forever. People’ll recognize him. Word’ll get out,” said the doctor.
“If you don’t think you can do it…” Skip shrugged doubtfully.
“Now hang on. You know what? We won’t wait for people to find out, we’ll tell them.” The mayor leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. “We’ll get the whole village in on it. He promises to spend his money here—well, we’ll promise to keep his presence to ourselves. Totally. It’s the only humane thing to do.”
“We could adopt him,” said Ms. Bellwood, standing in her enthusiasm. She had a kind face, thought Skip. And she was attractive for a middle-aged lady, he thought further. Nice body for a thirty year old.
“That’s a great idea,” declared the mayor. “We’ll adopt him. Phantom will be Wyndham’s Secret Son. I think people’ll like thinking about him that way. He needs us to help him rest and recuperate. We’ll make sure he gets his slightest wish fulfilled. We’ll make his life here…a joy. An absolute joy.”
“And he’ll pay for it,” said the doctor.
The mayor eyed him suspiciously, but the doctor seemed agreeable. Then again, Mayor Harper thought,
“And how do we keep him happy?” asked the doctor sourly.
The mayor, who’d never liked the doctor, leaned forward ponderously. “By keeping our damned traps shut, my dear sir. No gossip. He wants privacy and plenty of it.”
“But the publicity!” a lady in the second row with suspiciously bright red hair cried out. She edited the village’s local weekly newspaper. “Tourism could explode here if we could take advantage of his presence.”
“Great,” said Skip with a grimace. “People’d be climbing his gates. He’d have to hire bodyguards to get him in and out of the house. He’d be just as much a prisoner here as on tour.
“Listen, folks. People get mad if he’s not good natured with them every second. They stick their noses in his lunch, then complain how stuck up he is if he tries to move over. I know, ’cause he has to do it every day on tour. Think about it. Wouldn’t that drive you people nuts? If he doesn’t find a place to go, a place just to be quiet and rest, he’ll go stark raving crazy. Do you know where he has to go to get away nowadays? Like a vacation? He checks into a hospital.”
“No.” Ms. Bellwood, was aghast.
“Yes,” insisted Skip. He knew it was true because he’d read all about it in the newspaper while eating a snack in Atlantic City. He’d been struck then by how sad that was. “He wants to stroll down into the village and shop, just live quiet, like everybody else.”
“Hear that?” put in the mayor eagerly. “He wants to shop!”
“But—” the red-haired lady began again.
A man in a suit of obvious foreign cut and astronomical cost, a Board member who hadn’t spoken before—Mr. Drexel—held up a single finger, which silenced her. It silenced everybody. He held the second highest executive position in Wyndham’s single industrial business—which paid the majority share of village taxes. He nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that, about the hospital. It’s true.”
Mayor Harper grimaced at him. Deferring to others didn’t come easily to the mayor. “You’re right, sir. You’re a wonderful judge of character, as we all know. When you meet him, you won’t get over just how plain, down-to-earth Phantom really is,” continued the mayor expansively to the entire Board, draping one arm over Skip’s shoulder in a brotherly fashion.
“How would you know?” asked the doctor skeptically.
“Why, Mark told me. True?” he asked Skip.
“Oh, true,” said Skip. He smiled again. His cheeks were beginning to ache.
“Well, great, but you can’t hide him here forever. People’ll recognize him. Word’ll get out,” said the doctor.
“If you don’t think you can do it…” Skip shrugged doubtfully.
“Now hang on. You know what? We won’t wait for people to find out, we’ll tell them.” The mayor leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. “We’ll get the whole village in on it. He promises to spend his money here—well, we’ll promise to keep his presence to ourselves. Totally. It’s the only humane thing to do.”
“We could adopt him,” said Ms. Bellwood, standing in her enthusiasm. She had a kind face, thought Skip. And she was attractive for a middle-aged lady, he thought further. Nice body for a thirty year old.
“That’s a great idea,” declared the mayor. “We’ll adopt him. Phantom will be Wyndham’s Secret Son. I think people’ll like thinking about him that way. He needs us to help him rest and recuperate. We’ll make sure he gets his slightest wish fulfilled. We’ll make his life here…a joy. An absolute joy.”
“And he’ll pay for it,” said the doctor.
The mayor eyed him suspiciously, but the doctor seemed agreeable. Then again, Mayor Harper thought,
Similar Books
