Cool.
It’s just GORGEOUS here, all yellow and green, with this view to DIE for. You can see all the way to the Vatican. You can wave to the Pope. Hi, Pope! Holly’s mom sends her love! I’m sure Dan Brown didn’t mean it!
And prosecco… yum. The food is delicious, too.
But we better hurry up. The office opens again in 45 minutes. Cal wants to go to the Spanish Steps, which are down the street from here. Like we’ve got time for sightseeing.
Still, I don’t want to say no.
He’s being so NICE, all of a sudden. I mean, taking me here, and showing me this place, and buying lunch, and just being… well, like a nice guy, for a change.
And he looks so… well, hot too, sitting there in his jeans and chambray shirt. He finally got his air under control, I see—which is good, if he ever hopes to pass for Mark, who doesn’t have as much of it as he does—hair, I mean. The sun is really bringing out his golden highlights.
And he’s telling such funny stories, about things he and Mark did in school. You can hardly tell he’s the same person who just the other day was insisting that marriage is an outdated institution, and that love is nothing but a chemical reaction in the brain.
You know, between this and the cat thing last night, I’m almost starting to LIKE him.
Maybe that’s just the prosecco. God, this is so romantic , sitting up here on top of the city, looking down on all the treetops and ancient ruins, drinking sparkly wine and eating these luscious olives. I can’t believe Holly and Mark are missing it—
Holly and Mark! We’ve got to go!!!!
___________________________________________
e-mails
To: Jane Harris <[email protected]>
Fr: Claire Harris <[email protected] >
Re: You
I don’t know if you’re just ignoring me now, or if something’s happened to you. I hope it’s the former, of course. I was flipping through the channels last night and I happened to see that on the Travel Channel they were doing a show on the lesser-traveled regions of Italy, so I watched it, and sure enough, they did a story on Le Marche, and they said there are WOLVES there.
Yes. WOLVES. In the hills.
I hope there are no hills near Holly’s uncle’s villa, and that if so, there are no wolves in them. And that you’re keeping your window closed at night. Because wolves can jump very high. At least according to this documentary.
I suppose you aren’t writing back because you’re angry about my telling Holly’s mother that she is gaining a son, not losing a daughter. I still don’t see how Marie is going to extrapolate from this that Mark and Holly are eloping in Italy.
But I just thought I’d let you know that it looks like Marie is going to have a lot more important things to worry about soon: Daddy and I were just at the Promptcare for a splinter he got in his foot (I TOLD him the dining room floor needs sanding) and ran into Holly’s sister-in-law Brandy, who was there with little Heather because she’d stuck a Red Hot up her nose.
Heather, not Brandy.
Anyway, according to Brandy, the Caputos are fit to be tied because Darrin just announced that he’s getting married. To his boyfriend, Bobby. Apparently, they are having some sort of commitment ceremony on the steps of City Hall to rub the mayor’s nose in it.
And I already phoned her—I HAD to, to let her know Angela di Blasi has the flu and book club is going to have to be at my house this week—and she was STILL in hysterics over the fact that Darrin is inviting the paper to cover the event and Father Roberto will know Darrin is gay.
I hope you’re happy now.
Nancy Jansen wants to know if you’ll autograph a copy of Wondercat: The Early Years for her nephew Jeff. I told her you would. She’s sending it to you in New York with a self-addressed stamped envelope so you can just pop it in the mail back to her when you’re done.
Love,
Mom
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of
Jane Harris
Those Spanish Steps weren’t anything so big. I mean, they were all smooth from being walked on so much, since they’re like three hundred years old. They are definitely a safety hazard. I nearly twisted my ankle a couple of times going down them.
And yeah, okay, so Shelley’s house was right next door. Shelley. Wasn’t he the one whose wife wrote Frankenstein?
I don’t know why Cal got so tight-lipped when I asked him this. How am I supposed to know stuff about literature? I was an art major. I bet he doesn’t know that Michelangelo got so sick of people complimenting him on his David statue’s hands that he cut them off.
So I asked him if he knew this, and he said he didn’t. Also that he didn’t understand why, if so many people liked the hands, Michelangelo would cut them off.
So I explained about how artists want people to view their work as a whole, not parts. If people were too busy concentrating on the hands, they wouldn’t see the rest of the statue. And that’s not what Michelangelo wanted… to make a great pair of hands. He wanted to make a great statue.
I could tell he was impressed by this. I think it made up for when I told him about the Britney thing back at the Hotel Eden. He’d looked kind of scared then.
Whatever! I can’t help it if he’s the Wall Street Journal and I’m Us Weekly . I obviously have to know SOMETHING or I wouldn’t have had to switch over to quarterly income tax returns this year, would I?
There were all these hippies sitting on the steps, playing guitars and singing about peace and stuff. Seeing them obviously reminded Cal of something, since he was like, “I have to go to Western Union.” I was all, “Why?” and he was like, “I’ve got to wire some money to my sister.”
So we went to Western Union—fortunately the Spanish Steps are in this totally high-tourist area, so we found one right away—and Cal wired a thousand dollars to someone named Mary Langdon. I know I shouldn’t have looked, but what else was I supposed to do?
Besides, I was curious.
Even though he didn’t seem to want to talk about it, I asked him how old his sister was, and he said she was 25. So he’s her big brother. It’s hard to imagine Cal having a little sister.
It’s hard to imagine Cal ever having been a kid. But I know he was one, once, because that’s how he and Mark came to be friends.
I wonder if Mary’s afraid of snakes too.
Also, what she needs a thousand bucks for. Who hits their brother up for a loan that big? That is just bound to get the two of them on the People’s Court , you just know it.
But when I asked, Cal was just like, “Mary’s an artist,” in this tone that suggested he didn’t think much of the profession. Um, MY profession.
But whatever. It’s sweet of Cal to help out his little sister. I really wouldn’t have pegged him as a soft touch
