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Chapter 175 – The End of Vacation
🕑 Added 2025-09-18 16:30:53 +0000 UTC
“Henry, could you drive me to the library?”
From inside the house, Mrs. Hepburn opened a window and called out to Henry, who was still tending the garden.
“Sure, just give me a moment.”
He gave a playful kick to one of the terriers still bounding around beside him, brushed the dirt off his clothes, and headed toward the house.
Honestly, most of the dirt on him had been kicked up by these Jack Russell terriers anyway… well, maybe all five of them. So he might have kicked the wrong one, but he didn’t care. One day he’d have these five dogs sort out their household hierarchy themselves.
As he reached the front door, Robert stepped out. He was dressed in light sportswear, a leash dangling from his hand.
The moment the dogs saw the leash, they went wild. All five rushed to his feet, circling, sniffing, wagging their tails like they might snap them off.
Henry asked, “Going for a run, Robert? I’m driving the boss into town—want me to bring anything back?”
“No need.” Robert patted his slightly bulging stomach and complained, “Every time you cook, I eat too much. If I don’t exercise more, one day I’ll be too fat to get out of bed.”
“But you always come back from a run starving, then eat another bowl of rice. Don’t you think exercise might be what’s making you fat?” Henry teased.
“You brat. The real culprit is you, and you’re trying to pin it on me!” Robert grumbled as he clipped on the leashes.
Once they were secured, he slapped his cheeks to fire himself up. The dogs, just as eager, lunged forward, the taut leashes practically dragging him along. With five dogs pulling, Robert had no choice but to run.
He shouted back, “I’ll be back before dinner—make something good!” Then he jogged off.
From behind, Henry yelled, “Mate, don’t blame me for your belly!”
The cheerful old actor just raised a middle finger high over his shoulder and kept running without looking back.
By then, Audrey Hepburn was ready to head out. She stepped into the entryway, meeting Henry as he returned. Watching Robert disappear down the street, she asked, “Out running, is he?”
“Yes, ma’am. Give me a moment—I’ll grab the keys and my things, then bring the car around.”
“No rush. Be careful.”
“Will do.”
Henry went up to the attic where his room was and packed several stacks of books into a paper bag. He had borrowed them from the town library using Hepburn’s library card.
They were mainly French and German works—different from the English books he had once read in Los Angeles, and full of insights for him. The small-town library’s collection leaned heavily toward literature, but the upside was the wide range of languages.
He placed the paper bag of books on the passenger seat, drove the car to the front entrance, and got out to help Hepburn with the books in her arms.
Help was hardly needed—she only had a few volumes, nothing compared to his own pile. Spotting the bag on the seat, she exclaimed, “You finished all of those already? That was fast.”
Opening the back door, Henry courteously shielded the edge with his hand so she wouldn’t bump herself. He smiled and said, “I read quickly. Besides, these aren’t great literary tomes. I just treat them like storybooks.”
“That’s very disrespectful to the authors,” Hepburn scolded lightly.
“Got it. If I ever meet them in person, I’ll apologize sincerely,” Henry said with mock humility, though in truth he was brushing it off. Honestly, it was a habit from reading web novels in his past life.
Audrey Hepburn knew his lazy streak well enough by now and only sighed, “You child.” Then, remembering something, she asked, “Has the United Nations been in touch with us?”
Driving, Henry answered, “The UNICEF staff are already planning activities. But civil wars across Africa are raging this year. Many places can only be visited with peacekeepers.
“South America and Asia are safer, but we’ve just visited several sites there recently. Going again too soon won’t have much impact. So it’s hard for them to arrange an itinerary.”
“Any plans for where to go? Surely they must have some ideas.”
“Apparently not. They said they’d like your input, ma’am.”
“They want my opinion?” Hepburn asked, a little surprised.
At a stoplight, Henry pulled a stack of documents from the briefcase on the passenger seat and handed it back to her. “I was planning to report this over afternoon tea, but since you brought it up, I’ll explain now.
“This file summarizes your UNICEF work since 1988, along with their aid projects over the past decade.
“Starting on page three, I’ve outlined the stability of various countries, based on U.N. reports and press coverage.
“Later sections cover each country’s need for humanitarian aid—basically, the state of their impoverished populations. And finally, whether they’ve formally invited U.N. assistance.”
Henry’s notes weren’t just words. He had hand-drawn maps of Africa, South Asia, Central and South America—nearly every impoverished country in the world.
He shaded them in colored pencil to show different levels of need—simple, clear, easy to grasp at a glance.
This kind of reporting skill was something he had honed in his past life. PowerPoint had existed since 1987 and been bought by Microsoft in 1990, but it wasn’t yet common. Printing and formatting options were limited.
So Henry preferred to draw everything by hand—it was faster and gave him exactly the look he wanted.
Hepburn had gotten used to his style of reports. She actually preferred his visual approach—it was far easier to understand than pure text.
As she overlaid several sheets in the sunlight, she noticed something odd: on the map of Africa, one area looked like a black hole, nearly blank.
It lay south of Ethiopia, north of Kenya, and west of Somalia. She pointed at it curiously. “What’s this place?”
Henry glanced over. “That’s Wakanda. Officially, a backward, impoverished agricultural monarchy. The current king is T’Chaka. They’ve never established diplomatic ties with any country, yet they’re a U.N. member state.”
That was all straight from U.N. sources—Henry wasn’t embellishing.
“Could we go there? To Wakanda?” Hepburn asked.
“Unlikely,” Henry answered bluntly. “They’ve never accepted aid or allowed human rights organizations to operate inside their borders. So we’d have no grounds for a visit.
“On the other hand, you could try requesting an invitation through UNICEF. But honestly, I doubt they’d agree.”
