Blood transfusions, daily injections of vitamins, and x-rays made Michael feel better. A former acquaintance of Robin’s, who was a professional male escort, tagged along to help Michael with whatever she needed. When Diana found out he had helped Michael spend her limited dollars on flowers, limousine rides, and private chefs, she was outraged. At Michael’s request, he also had bought matching suits for them to wear on walks around the clinic grounds. Michael was almost out of money, and to waste it on useless treatments, flowers, and car rides was more than Diana could bear. She convinced her mother to call Margaret.
On Valentine’s Day, Margaret sat in her bed with her big red comforter, looking over the river as snow fell on the city. She was relieved to have heard Michael’s voice on the phone and thrilled to be exchanging loving letters once more instead of nasty telegrams. She wanted to be by Michael’s side while there was still time and made plans to visit her at the clinic. Both were hopeful Michael’s renewed vigor meant the illness was in remission. Margaret conferred with Michael’s doctor in New York about follow-up treatments. Remission meant a second chance, and Margaret wasn’t going to let her pride lead her into any more arguments with Michael. She was eager to have Michael back at home where she could take care of her.
A few days later, Margaret checked into her hotel in Lausanne, and a letter from Michael was waiting. It said that Michael’s doctor was ordering Margaret to stay away because their relationship was a source of strain for Michael. If they were to achieve remission, all stress must be eliminated.
Margaret was crushed, but she responded with calm and kindness. She said she would do anything to help Michael get well, including staying away. Her only desire was for Michael to get well.
Margaret stayed on in Switzerland for a few days in the hope Michael would change her mind. When she didn’t, Margaret got on a train to visit Garth Williams in Italy. Garth had moved back to Rome, where he had studied art years before. He and Margaret were working on Fox Eyes, a manuscript of Margaret’s that had not yet found a publisher. She loved his illustrations for the book and was sure she would eventually find someone to produce the book.
While on board the train to Rome, a man sitting in the same compartment as Margaret placed chloroform over her face. When she woke, she had been robbed, although the thief fortunately left her journal and manuscripts behind.
Her luck didn’t improve on her return home to the United States. Publishers Weekly announced that The Quiet Noisy Book was to be published by Harper. The idea she and Leonard Weisgard had years before to blend story, sound, and images in The Noisy Book had been a huge success. Four more stories featuring the little dog Muffin had been published, and contractually, it was clear that the rights to the series belonged to W. R. Scott. When Bill Scott read that the next book in the series was being produced without his consent, he promptly sued Margaret and Harper.
It had been Margaret’s understanding that her publishing relationship with Scott was over. She had told Bill months earlier that she would no longer send him manuscripts when he failed to print her last book in four colors as he had promised. He completely ruined her last two books on press by using an inferior printer. She had tried to help him, but his reluctance to move to modern presses placed his house at a competitive disadvantage. That directly affected Margaret’s royalty earnings, so she really could not afford to let him have any further manuscripts. In her mind, it had been an agreeable parting of the ways.
Bill might not have the opportunity to publish new books by Margaret, but that didn’t mean he would let a competitor take over his bestselling series. He was going to hold Margaret to her contract even if it meant a legal battle.
She was infuriated. She was still hurt by the Publishers Weekly feature and bitter that Bill had taken credit for her ideas. She dashed off an angry letter to him. She could not believe this was how he was reacting after all she had done for him over the years. She had given up royalties on books that were still earning money for him. She had brought him the best illustrators in the business. She had promoted his company in every interview. Yet he didn’t even respond to a letter she recently wrote about an underpayment. She was shocked he was suing her after stealing her ideas and taking credit for her work. Therefore, she counted her friendship with him as bad judgment and his friendship with her as hogwash.
She asked Harriet Pilpel to countersue on the basis that Scott repeatedly violated their contracts. She wanted retroactive payments on verbal agreements Bill had made with her. She also wanted to file a legal complaint with the Writers Guild and get them to review Scott’s royalty payments for discrepancies.
Harriet knew Margaret’s legal stance was weak. It was in Margaret’s best interest to stay on Bill’s good side and settle this amicably. She talked Margaret out of sending the poisonous letter. Harriet also was Michael’s lawyer and knew she didn’t have long to live. There had been no remission, so Michael returned to the apartments at East End. A lawsuit would be costly and emotionally draining at a time when Margaret was overworked and exhausted. It was time for Margaret to make peace with her former boss.
Margaret helped care for the very sick Michael and cheered her on as Michael wrote a series of children’s stories about the adventures of two bunnies living together—“The Rabbit M.D.” and “The Bunny No Good.” Margaret served as Michael’s editor for the stories, and Ursula had agreed to publish them. There were many flaws in the stories, but Margaret wanted to give Michael something to look forward to as she wasted away. She replaced her characteristically snarky comments with exclamatory remarks about how funny the stories were. It wasn’t long, though, before Michael was back in the hospital, this time in Boston at a clinic that specialized in the latest treatments for leukemia.
*
By fall, Michael was the size of a child, and her skin had turned a sickly yellow. It was obvious she was close to death, so Margaret rented a hotel suite close to the Boston hospital to be near Michael. She did her best to keep up with her work by mail, phone, and telegram, but for the first time in her career, she was behind schedule and wrote very little. She was at the hospital most of the day and often into the night.
Sleep would give Michael a reprieve from the unending pain, but nothing the doctor ordered allowed her to rest. At the end of October, she writhed in pain day and night for almost a week. Morphine eased the pain, but her heart could only take so much. Her body went through crisis after crisis—internal bleeding, bedsores, and fluid-filled lungs that had to be drained through punctures in her back. It seemed the only things that kept death at bay were transfusions.