Every Boy's Got One (29 page)

PDA of Cal Langdon

 

Insisted on buying lunch, as everyone in our party was completely dejected (excepting myself, of course).

It seems that Italian bureaucracy is doing my job for me, insofar as keeping Mark and Holly from wedded bliss (or bust). It appears the young couple cannot be wed unless they get a specific stamp on a form that can only be secured at the American embassy back in Rome. Their choices are to skip the whole thing or pile back into the car and drive back to Rome tomorrow.

At this point, Mark seems to be leaning toward making the trip. Surprisingly, it’s his lady love whose resolve seems to be flagging. I wonder if Holly is quite as enthusiastic about the idea of marrying Mark as I—and her friend Jane—once presumed.

This, at least, explains why Ms. Harris insists upon carrying on our conversations via text. She must have known that her friend’s enthusiasm was not all it should be.

And I must say, if a small detail like a stamp on a form and an eight-hour drive are enough to drive Ms. Caputo into such dudgeon, perhaps Mark really is better off single.

The girls are in the ladies’ room, doing whatever it is women do when they enter such facilities together. Mark is on his cell with the car rental agency in Ancona. Apparently, the replacement vehicle New York Journalpromised him earlier this morning is no longer available. Good thing he called before we made the trip.

Lunch was delicious, by the way. We found a small family-run establishment popular with the many accordion-factory workers in town. For twenty euros total we enjoyed an exquisitely prepared lemon pasta, grilled scallops, insalata caprese, and a carafe of bianco frizzante. We received a number of odd looks, to be sure, from the natives. This is clearly a restaurant that doesn’t see many Americans.

And clearly has never heard of a non-smoking section.

Still, a pleasant meal, in all.

Now, I presume, we shall be trekking back to town hall to argue some more with the presiding officials. With any luck, we’ll be joined by Inga Schumacher—taking this tragi-comedy to a whole new level of hilarity—and her great-grandson, who seems to have glued himself to our sides… not that his near-constant presence seems to bother Ms. Harris. In fact, I’m starting to believe she actually likes having the kid around. Peter’s presence makes it very difficult for me to say all the things I’d like to say to the object of his devotion….

Perhaps this is just as well. I always seem to be thinking—and saying—the oddest things around that woman. Telling her I think she’s cute when she’s angry? What was I doing? I NEVER say that kind of thing, much less write it.

That’s right. She has it in writing, permanent proof of my idiocy.

I ought to be shot.

Especially since it’s more than clear that she thinks I’m—what was it? Oh, yes. An ass. That’s very nice. Being called an ass by a woman who makes her living drawing a cartoon of a cat. Excuse me, did I create something that people have forever since been forcing me to look at, dangling from suction cups on the back windshield of their car? No, I did not.

It’s all this damned fizzy wine. That’s what it is. I just need a beer. Maybe this afternoon, since it doesn’t look as if we’ll be changing cars in Ancona, I’ll talk Mark into going to a bar with me—there’s that Crazy Bar and Sexy Tattoo Shop in Porto Recanati—and we’ll talk this whole marriage thing out over a couple of cold ones….

Though I think I’ll keep my thoughts about Ms. Harris to myself. And the fact that today she’s got on a pair of shoes I haven’t seen before. Open-toe, of course, with these pink straps that criss-cross over the cat tattoo—

I need some air.

Poor Holly. She’s crushed.

Stupid
secretario
. And stupid Italy. I hate it here again! How can they be so mean? Can’t they see they’re destroying one of the sweetest, gentlest girls in the world with their ridiculous bureaucratic red tape?

At least Frau Schumacher understands. She’s really letting that
secretario
have it. He looks kind of scared. He keeps saying something about the mayor. Apparently, he doesn’t have the authority to do… something.

But the mayor does.

I think Frau Schumacher told him to let us in to see the mayor, then.

Wow! For an old lady, Frau Schumacher sure can be intimidating!

Thank God for Peter running home to get her. Well, really, thank God for Wondercat. Because without Wondercat, Peter wouldn’t have even known about our problem and gone to get his great-grandmother.

And of course, there’d be no Wondercat if it weren’t for The Dude. So really, none of this would be happening if it weren’t for my cat.

As usual. Just further proof that The Dude, as I’ve always suspected, really is God.

Now the
secretario
’s left his own office. Frau Schumacher looks very pleased with herself. I asked Peter what’s going on, and he said, “The
secretario
is going to see if ze mayor vill change his schedule to let your friends get married on Vednesday. There is maybe an opening in ze calendar on zis day.”

When I commented that this seemed like a positive development, Peter nodded and said, “Yes. Zey are all very frightened of my grandmuzzer. She will go to the mayor’s muzzer, and zat zey do not want.”

Yes! Joy!

You would think Holly would be happier to hear that. But she’s just sitting next to me, holding her stomach and looking kind of queasy.

Well, I guess I can’t really blame her. She’s been looking forward to getting married for so long, and all of these delays have to be—

The secretario is back. Oh my gosh! We’re being summoned to the mayor’s office!

To: Jane Harris

Fr: Claire Harris

Re: You

Oh, sweetie, that’s horrible news about poor Holly! Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but Daddy dropped a picture frame on his big toe so we were just at Promptcare getting it X-rayed. Not broken, thank God, but a bad bruise. I sent him to bed with a bowl of Breyers.

I do hope you’re able to work something out for Holly. It would be such a shame for she and Mark—well, all of you, really—to have gone all that way and then not be able to have your little elopement. I feel just terrible.

But, even if they can’t get married, you can still have a nice vacation, can’t you? What is Holly’s uncle’s house like? Is it pretty? Do the windows lock? Because you know I just saw on the news that in a lot of those oceanside communities, people leave the windows open at night to let in the sea breezes, and it’s like an invitation to thieves and rapists! They just slip in on through the windows and take whatever they want! I hope you’re making sure all the windows are locked at night.

And I hope you’re not being too mean to that handsome Cal Langdon. You’re a very vibrant and pretty girl, Janie, and you know men can’t help falling in love with you. Remember how many of them asked you to the senior prom? Well, it’s true a lot of them were freshman boys who couldn’t have taken you anyway….

But the way they mooned around the house, asking Daddy if they could mow the lawn, when we knew perfectly well they just wanted a glimpse of you. Keep in mind that some of those boys you wouldn’t give the time of day to went on to have very good jobs at Pfizer.

And Helen Shipley told me her son Curt makes six figures in the cruise ship industry!

Why you keep insisting Curt is one of those bisexuals, I can’t imagine. Helen says it simply isn’t true. Curt’s not married yet because he just hasn’t met the right girl, according to Helen. Probably YOU were the right girl, and he’s just waiting for you to get in touch.

Also, according to Charlie Rose, Mr. Langdon got a VERY nice advance for that little book he wrote. That’s not something you ought to turn up your nose at, you know. Wondercat is darling, but it won’t always be as popular as it is now. You need to think about your future, you know, Janie.

Love,

Mom

PS Daddy says to tell you it looks as if that cartoon about the flying serving utensils has been canceled. That might open up a slot for the Wondercat animated series, don’t you think?

To: Listserv

Fr: Peter Schumacher

Re: JANE HARRIS

SUCCESS!!! My grandmother has arranged it all! The friends of JANE HARRIS will be married Wednesday morning at nine o’clock, before the mayor had to go and coach the American football game at the primary school, where he is also the athletic director when he is not being mayor.

But they must get the stamp from the consulate of the US before they can be married. So tomorrow they will go to Rome to receive it.

All is done, and by my grandmother! Everyone was much excited! Except for the secretario and the mayor.

But best of all—

JANE HARRIS KISSED ME!!!! YES!!!! To say thank you for making it so that her friends can have their marriage!!!

Never will I wash this face again.

That is all for now. I am Peter Schumacher, #1 fan of Wundercat, saying

TSCHUSS!

Wundercat Lives—4eva!

Peter