Talk to the Hand

By Bruce Dealhoy

Samantha, a successful if eccentric romance book editor, more than meets her match when called on to assist a successful self-help book author, Garfield Chandler. Deadlocked, Sam's tried-and-proven tricks are used against her. Throw in a hidden family history, and a mixed bag of family and friends all being helpfully unhelpful, and life goes from predictable to chaotic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bruce Dealhoy
• Release date: Dec 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9780991832606

Bruce Dealhoy

As far back as I can remember (well, at least as far back as the early 1960s), I've been reading -- fiction, science fiction, then fantasy. Thanks to Julie Kenner and "Aphrodite's Belt", I got introduced to romantic comedies. Current interests are anime, electric RC model aircraft, fencing, photography (well, just a bit now), reading and writing. At least when I have spare time from family, the house and work. I seriously started writing sometime around 1976 with the Memorial University Fencing Club, an eclectic bunch of swordspeople, when we started kicking around plot lines. I'd never heard of fanfiction at that point, but I know that I'd been telling myself alternate Star Trek plot lines from 1967 onwards plus anything else that caught my fancy when I had nothing else to do and wasn't reading. The 1976 story is still kicking around my brain, waiting for me to put hands to keyboard and give it life.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Epilog 8 Months Later

Upcoming Additions to Smashbooks

Chapter One

Ga-ar, you read those books, and you don't like watching romance movies?

The brightly-covered book came sailing over the back of the sofa into his lap. Garfield picked it up and looked at the cover, tossing it unto the coffee table with a shrug.

Leaning over the back of the sofa, he shrugged and grinned. "What can I say, Nan? I like comedies and so what if it's a romance? It's the soggy, soppy romances that I can't stand. Like you said, 'they meet and hate each other, they yell at each other, they go to bed and have great sex, they're in love for life.'"

Argh! You would have to throw that back at me. Anyway, are you coming down to the gym with me? I need a workout and you probably do too. You've spent too much time sitting and not enough time doing. Grabbing up her gym bag, she opened the door and started into the hall, then looked back at him.

Actually, I've already been there once today, but I've got some re-writing that I have to do, so I'll take you down. The change should blow the cobwebs out of my brain. I'm getting a case of writer's block.

He closed the laptop and stood up. Nanette looked at him and sighed. That stupid muscle disease in his late teens and the drugs he had to take had left him with too little muscle and too much stomach for her taste, and no amount of exercise seemed to shift things around. Also, being a geek (no, a technical writer!) didn't help. Considering that they lived on opposite ends of the country and she was here only for a week, she wasn't about to try to run his life for him.

A half hour later, Garfield stared at the screen and sighed. This re-write was just going down the tubes as he was seriously blocked. Time for a complete change. He thought back to her comments and his rather low sense of humour kicked in. I'm a successful writer, just how hard is it to write a novel? Probably famous last words....

Looking around the lounge area of the gym, he watched the people and thought about the comedy programs that he enjoyed on TV and the books that he'd been devouring lately (too many romance and sci-fi novels, not enough manuals.) How biographical should I make this? Probably best to start from my own life and not cobble someone else's ideas.

He opened a new document file and started poking away. Within minutes, he was completely absorbed in what he was doing as the words flowed from his gonads through his hypothalmus to his finger tips. "I guess Heinlein was right when he had Jubal Harshaw say that linking the two was the basis for writing romance fiction." A smile played across his lips. All that science fiction he'd read over the years was at least good for coming up with purple prose to describe his situation.

Excuse me. Is someone using this chair?

His concentration had been so absolute that he jumped and knocked the coffee beside his laptop over. A mad scramble ensued with him reaching for the coffee cup, the laptop, and the napkins at the same time before the coffee flooded everything. Dropping the laptop on his chair, he righted the coffee cup and reached for the napkin dispenser. Unfortunately, someone else’s hands were doing the same reach and their hands collided.

I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! she said as they got themselves co-ordinated and the napkins were pulled from the dispenser and the coffee blotted up. The expression on her face was so abject that he had to chuckle, if only to keep from laughing out loud.

No. That’s what you get for doing your work in a coffee shop. Here, please sit and I’ll get rid of this stuff, pulling his bag from the other chair at the table and dropping it beside his chair.

Wiping up the last of the coffee, he got his first good look at her. Nothing fantastic was his first reaction. But then, she’s wearing baggy sweats and looks like she’s been through the wringer at an exercise class. Don’t be judgmental until you get to know her better.

Look, I need another coffee, so why don’t I get you something as well? he said as he pushed the old cup and soggy napkins into the nearest trash bin.

I really should, I surprised you and it was your table, and….

His hand came up. We could probably argue back and forth all day. I’ll buy the first; you buy the second, if there is one. OK? So what’s your pleasure?

Oh all right. Just a medium decaf, double cream and a single Sugar Twin.

That’s easy to remember, since that’s the way I usually have them. Otherwise, I’d be completely wired.

She laughed, with her eyes being included in the laugh. Which certainly raised her in his opinion.

He returned to find her swiping up the last of the moisture on the table. Putting her coffee down in front of her, he placed his on the table with exaggerated care, then picked up his laptop, gave it a quick wipe with the last napkin, closed it and then placed it in his bag before sitting down.

I really must apologize.., she started.

No need to. I shouldn’t have been trying to work in such a location. Anyway, no damage done. By the way, my name’s Gar, Garfield Chandler.

Sam, actually Samantha…. A puzzled look came across her face. You’re not the Garfield Chandler of the ‘Save Your Bacon’ series?

Yes, and do you know that you’re the first person that’s actually asked that?

Those books have more than once saved my bacon, which is why I like the series. So are you working on a new edition?

Yes, but that isn’t what I was working on. I decided to take a break and was working on a fiction book just for a change. Don’t laugh, but I’ve got a massive writer’s block and am doing just about anything to break the deadlock.

Same thing happens to me. Solid brick wall twenty feet high. So what are you writing?

I’m just trying my hand at writing a romance. Stupid, I know, and completely different from the Bacon books. Just shows you how desperate I am.

Her smile seemed a bit strained to Gar, which piqued his curiosity. She continued You thinking of getting it published?

At the rate this one is going, I’ll probably have it finished before the Bacon book is done. Unfortunately, I get paid for the latter and not the former. Otherwise, I think I’d starve.

Well, if you don’t show it to a publisher, you’ll never know. I know…

At that moment, Nanette came up behind Gar and dropped her bag beside his. Hey there! I’m done and ready for home. You just about done yourself? Reaching past him, she picked up his coffee and took a swig, making a face at the flavour. Oh, decaf again!

The reaction from Sam was extraordinary. She turned beet red, stood up and grabbed her bag. I’m sorry, I have to go. My friends… Good-bye. It’s been nice meeting you. With that she turned and just about ran for the exit, leaving her coffee behind.

Gar and Nan looked at each other.

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Chapter Two

The church service was reaching its end, and so was Sam’s peace of mind.

Sunday mornings were reserved for Aunt Gert (or GREAT AUNT GETRUDE came the capitalized words of her subconscious), and as often as not, so did the afternoons, helping her around her large house with gardening, cooking or cleaning. Sometimes, she even managed to do light carpentry, painting and papering.

Not that Sam minded, as much because Gert was her closest relative (distance-wise) but also that she was her second mother, right from her birth and a role that became real when her parents died during her teenage years. No, it was her childhood friends, now married and with children of their own, who couldn’t see why Sam was the old maid of the gang. Between the crowd at work and here, Sam didn’t have to look for dates, due to the large families and cousins, ex-boyfriends, acquaintances and total strangers she was introduced to on a regular basis. Not that she was picky, but none of them really seemed to click, whether it was her personality or the fact that she was not tall, statuesque, or drop-dead-gorgeous. Of course, between work as an editorial assistant and helping Aunt Gert, she really didn’t have much time for socializing. Sunday mornings were almost a sanctuary where there were no interruptions and last-minute-panics and suggestions for a new date ….

Oh, I’m just getting down on myself, again she told herself as she headed over to the coffee tables.

Not really paying any attention to what she was doing, she scooped up a mug and reached for the coffee carafe. That’s when she grabbed the hand that was just picking it up. She looked at the hand and then up the arm to the face attached to both.

What are you doing here?

The words came out before she could really stop herself.

His eyebrows crawled up, I’m sorry? The tone of voice was practically dry ice.

She looked around for the drop-dead-gorgeous woman that was with him at the fitness center. He noticed her furtive glances and sighed.

Nan’s my SISTER, with serious emphasis on the last word. and she’s gone back HOME TO SEATTLE. Look, I’ve just moved into town and I’m looking for a church. I decided to try this one as I’d been baptized here before my parents moved out west. I’m not sure where or what your problem is, but I will stay out of your way. Please extend me the same courtesy until we get to know each other better, if ever.

With that, he put his cup down and walked away into the crowd.

Oh great! Now I’ve really put my foot into it!, she muttered as she tried pouring herself a coffee and only succeeded in slopping it all over the table.

Sam? What’s the matter, dear? came Hillary’s voice as the carafe and cup were taken from her hands. Her friend’s touch opened the floodgates.

She hardly felt her friend’s pull over to the chairs in the alcove and plumped down on the ottoman. A tissue was pushed into her hands and she tried to stem the flood of tears while Hillary massaged her shoulders and back against the racking sobs.

What did that person say to you? I’m going to get the deacons and ….

Sam grabbed her friend’s wrist and pulled her down beside her, shaking her head from side to side, she finally blubbered no, not his fault but mine! I completely put my foot into it yesterday, and then again just…. The tears and sobs returned.

Sam, do you mean that that’s the writer?

Yes, but SHE was his sister. And I looked like a complete ninny. I bumped into him again this morning and then blurted out the first thing that came into my head and insulted him completely. He’s just moved in and was looking for a new church, which is why he’s here this morning.

Oh, my…

Yes! Oh my! Hillary, I’ve done some stupid things in my life and this has to top the list for being stupid, boneheaded, jumping to the wrong conclusions. Aren’t you going to say anything?

No, you seem to be covering things quite well on your own. A shame, too! He looked quite nice, in a geeky sort of way. You said he is a writer?

Yes, of self-help guides, which describes what I need. I can just see the title now: The Total Putz’s Guide To Not Impressing People!

I could always….

Don’t you dare! The one thing I really don’t need this morning is anyone trying to play match-maker!

Too late! I think your aunt just landed him.

Sam stood up and looked for her aunt, just in time to see the hand and finger rise and point in her direction. Sam sat down and buried her head in her hands. Hillary reached down and yanked her back to her feet, just in time to see him shake his head and quietly walk out the door. She also saw her aunt striding towards them across the vestibule. The stray thought came to Sam that her aunt looked like an ice-breaker under full steam in an ice-field as everyone shifted out of her way like so many burgey-bits.

Do you have an explanation for your behaviour, young lady?

No, ma’am, none at all, ma’am. I completely did not think either yesterday or today. And before you start lecturing me any more, I want to say that I really don’t want to see him again. Period!

Gert sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Well, I don’t know what you two said to each other, but I know that you’ll regret it. Anyway, that’s my final word on the subject.

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Chapter Three

You know, Hill, I think that Aunt Gert is up to something. I mean there are things being done around the house that I haven’t helped on and I know that she can’t do herself. Sometimes, when I drop in, she’s hanging up the phone in a real hurry with a guilty expression, like…. Like a teenager being caught with her boyfriend! Do you think that’s it? That she’s got a boyfriend and doesn’t want me to know about him?

The two friends were huddled around a small