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Peter
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GE. SP. AL. S.N.C
Viale Europa 44
Porto Recanati (MC)
GROCERY
EURO
PelliCola Co
0,50
6 Minibiscot
2,50
Olive Bella
2,50
Kinder Sorpr
1,80
Birra Peroni, 24
12,76
Insalata Rom
0,66
Tomato Ketch
2,23
Uva Italia P
1,95
The Twinings
1,90
Insalata Tro
0,41
Puro Succo
1,33
Naionese Cal
1,22
Latte Fr.A.Q.
1,37
Insalata Gen
0,38
Latte Fr. Int
1,30
Oro Duepic’c
2,34
637 Pom.Ross
1,90
Banco Taglio
1,01
Oro Piu’caca
1,53
Olive verdi
0,78
Bisc. Conad G
0,89
Pane Dolci I
0,55
Pomodori Pel
0,55
Doricream
0,65
Mais Pop Cor
0,60
Banco Taglio
27,21
Caffe Classi
2,09
Caffe Classi
2,09
Arance Taroc
2,55
TOTALE
77,55
Contanti
100,00
Resto
22,45
N.Pezzi 50
Oper: 10
Cassa 1 1
Regalo Bollini: 15
Codice: Bollini
Arrivederci e Grazie!
___________________________________________
___________________________________________
La Cantinetta
Enoteca
Ricrea di Morresi G. & C.
SNC Viale Europa 36
Porto Recanati
EURO
Vino 1 8,66
Vino 1 7,80
Vino 1 7,40
Vino 1 5,40
Vino 1 7,00
Vino 1 9,00
Vino 1 9,00
Vino 1 6,50
Vino 1 6,50
Vino 1 5,00
Vino 1 5,00
Vino 1 10,20
Vino 1 9,00
Vino 1 14,00
TOTALE 110,46
Grazie!
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Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine
Jane Harris
The mayor said yes!!!!
It seemed touch and go there to me for a while, but Frau Schumacher totally came through for us! I couldn’t tell what she was saying to the big man behind the desk—a very intimidating desk, too, with lots of important looking documents all over it, for a very intimidating man, wearing a big green shiny sash over his track suit—but Cal later translated that basically, she said, “Marry these two delightful young people or I will make you sorry.”
Cal says he doesn’t know HOW Frau Schumacher was going to make him sorry, but the mayor apparently believed her enough to make a time in his schedule for Holly and Mark.
And OK, it’s super-early in the morning for a wedding— 9A .M.—but it’s better than nothing! Frau Schumacher was right about wedding breakfasts, I guess. That’s what they do here, instead of receptions.
Now all we have to do is drive to Rome tomorrow, get the form Holly and Mark need, and drive back.
At last, we can relax a little. We went grocery shopping for food for the rest of the week (and Cal and Mark hit the liquor store, this cute little shop called La Cantinetta in Porto Recanati. Frankly, I think 14 bottles of wine, champagne, J & B, and something called limoncello might be a bit much, but it IS a wedding, after all, even if it’s just four of us attending) and then came home and hit the pool right away. At least, Holly and Mark and Peter and I did. Cal got a call from his editor or somebody, so he’s sitting in the terrazza, yakking into his cell, saying things like, “But I said you’d have it next month. No, I never said that.”
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Sounds like somebody’s a little late on a project. Ha ha.
I got the ski
And Peter was all, “I am here on official business with the mayor.”
And the girl started laughing and said, “What business can you have with my fazzer?”
And everything was suddenly SO clear to me, just from those—let me see—OK, eight little words. You know, that Peter adores A
It was all so obvious and sad.
Then the mayor hung up the phone and went, “A
Then he and Frau Schumacher started going at it in Italian, so I used the opportunity to ask Peter who the girl was, sotto voce (Italian for “in a soft voice.” I am really getting this language down, if I do say so myself).
And he was like, his voice dripping with (obviously feigned) scorn, “Zat’s A
And I asked Peter if he and A
In the jail! Peter’s dad—Frau Schumacher’s grandson—is in the jail!
For what, I don’t know. But now I understand why it is that Peter is able to hang around us all day. A
Anyway, after the mayor and Frau S. negotiated their little compromise, there was a lot of cheering and relieved sighs (and, from Cal Langdon, a frown), so I took the opportunity to lean down and give Peter a peck on the cheek—to thank him, you know, since if he hadn’t gone and got his great-grandmother, none of this would have happened.
And, while Peter turned bright red, I had the pleasure of seeing A
Score one for Peter.
Poor A
Cal Langdon just barked, “You’ll get it when you get it, Art,” into his phone.
God. He is so Type A. He really needs to learn to chill, like me, or he’s going to have a coronary before he’s forty.
And how dare he suggest that there’s something wrong with MY parents for staying together so long? I asked him while we were in the hallway outside the mayor’s office, out of earshot of Holly, how long HIS parents stayed together, and he said, “They were married twenty years, and are much happier people now that they’ve gone their separate ways.”
Which is all very well and good for them, but if Cal Langdon were MY kid, I’d want to get away from him, too. No wonder they split up. The North Pole and Antarctica aren’t far enough to get away from that voice: “I told you, Arthur, I will have the proposal for you when I get back. No, not the DAY I get back. But a few weeks later—yes, well, I still haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to write about. No, not dirty diamonds. No, I’m not going to Angola—”