Stick Shift. Mary Leo
inside a moving tin can without any room for mingling.
It amazed him that people flew so often they actually accumulated enough miles to fly for free. A car was better, or a ship. At least he could meet people along the way, and meeting people, especially women, was something Vittorio made a career of, like the Madonna sitting alone in the last row of the plane.
“Can you believe this?” he asked the long-legged blonde reading a Dean Koontz thriller. “I pay all the money and I cannot sit in my own seat.”
“Please,” she said with a sultry, deep voice. “There are plenty of seats in this row. Be my guest.”
Vittorio smiled and sat down right next to his latest dream girl.
WHEN THE PLANE landed in Rome on Monday morning, Lucy let out a sigh of relief. She had been busy on her laptop writing memos and creating charts for work. She had also made up a list of last-minute wedding details she would e-mail her mother later. Now she genuinely looked forward to the three-hour drive to Naples. She would listen to some local music, drink in the atmosphere, and grab a sandwich somewhere along the way because she honestly hadn’t been able to eat another airplane omelette.
Lucy actually toyed with the idea of postponing the eleven-thirty meeting with Giovanni, the lead engineer at Subito, the satellite for B-Logic, her Silicon-Valley-based electronics company. What she wanted more than anything else at that precise moment was a hot bath in her sure-to-be-fabulous room at the Santa Maria, but the chip had to tape out in a week to come out of fabrication in time for a demo at the Design Automation Conference in August. B-Logic could not afford to miss the show. Perhaps if she made a beeline to the car-rental counter she could make up some time on the road and get that bath before the meeting. A girl can only hope, she thought.
But she still had one major problem to take care of…her mother. Lucy hadn’t had the courage to make the call on Friday afternoon when she’d first found out that her promotion depended on this last-minute trip to Italy. And on Saturday she was busy packing, and she most definitely couldn’t call on the freeway and SFO was just too hectic. The real reason she hadn’t called was pure terror. Her mother would probably pop a vein over this whole thing, and Lucy wanted to be as far away as possible. She flipped opened her cell phone and pressed 9.
It only rang once.
“It’s late. What’s wrong?” her mother demanded.
The woman had a sixth sense. “Is that any way to answer your phone?”
“I knew it was you. Something’s wrong. My feet are burning.”
“It’s a hot flash.”
“I don’t have those anymore. Not since I got on the hormones. My feet only burn when there’s something wrong with my daughter.”
“Go soak your feet. There’s nothing wrong.”
“You’re not telling me the truth.”
Lucy sighed and leaned up against a wall. “Okay, you’re right. I’m on my way to Naples for work.”
“Now you go to Italy? I could never get you to go to Italy and for work you can go a week before your own wedding?”
“Mom, calm down.”
“Where are you?”
“In Rome.”
“I knew there was something wrong all night with you. I kept dreaming about garlic. How’s what’s-his-name taking this?”
“His name is Seth. Shouldn’t you try to remember it if he’s going to be your son-in-law?”
“It’s a hard name to remember.”
“It’s four letters.”
“Not enough. If it were more, I could remember. Four is too few.”
“My name has four letters.”
“Lucia has five. It’s better.”
“Mom!” Lucy said, exasperated. Her mother had a way of making the simplest things into a major deal.
“You’re gonna miss the wedding. Your mother is gonna be ashamed because her only daughter is gonna miss her own wedding. I won’t be able to go out in public.”
“I’ll be back on Friday.”
“I know in my heart that you like to shame me, so there I’ll be, standing in church, in front of God, with your father in an expensive rented suit, a hundred angry guests and no daughter. I knew when you were born this day would come.”
“Mom, I can’t talk to you anymore. I have to go.”
“Bring back some good prosciutto. I got a taste for some prosciutto from Napoli.”
“I’ll see if I have time.”
“Oh, for strangers you have plenty of time, but for your mother you’ll see?”
“You know, this is why children never call their parents.”
“Be safe, and always keep your purse close to you. Those Neapolitans are crooks and thieves.”
“Dad’s family is from Naples.”
“I know what I’m talking about. Tie a bell on your toe in case you sleepwalk.”
“The bell never worked. Besides, I don’t do that anymore.”
“How can you know? You’re asleep.”
Lucy could feel the agitation building. Could feel the back of her neck tense until she could barely move it. “All right!” she said. “I’ll get a bell.”
“Why you want to yell at your mother like that? I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt.”
Lucy sighed again. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Your father wants to say something.”
Lucy waited with her eyes closed while they argued over what he was going to say. Her mother kept telling him not to talk too long because this was costing Lucia money. In the meantime, Lucy stood there waiting, calling, “Mom! Just let him talk. Mom!”
Finally, her father got on. “Lucy, honey, have a productive trip. Don’t be afraid to show those people who’s boss.”
She pictured her dad holding on to the phone, her mother standing next to him counting the seconds. Her dad would be wearing his Sunday outfit. He believed in uniforms and wore the same thing every day. The color of the shirt varied, but the pants were always black Dockers, except on casual Friday, then the Dockers would be changed for his one pair of Levi’s. “I’ll try, Dad.”
“That’s all anyone needs to succeed, the right attitude and you’ve got it made. Go get ’em.”
Her mother told him, “that’s enough,” so he said his goodbyes and her mom got back on the phone.
“I want you to look up the Donicos while you’re there. I hear the boy is a big shot.”
“Mom, I really don’t think I’ll have any free time.”
“Is this how I raised you? To be so selfish to your own mother?”
Lucy gave up. She couldn’t argue anymore. “Okay, I’ll look up the Donicos. I’ll find a bell. I’ll keep my purse close, and I’ll get the pound of prosciutto. Can I please go now?”
“You should have gone a long time ago. What do you think? I got all night to be on the phone with you? I got things I gotta do for the wedding. I gotta order some nice red carnations for the altar. Love you,” she said, kissed the air two times and hung up. Lucy collapsed in a nearby chair.
When she finally regained her composure about fifteen minutes later, she was gliding down the crowded escalator in Leonardo da Vinci airport, spotting Eurocars International and a feeling of accomplishment swept over her.