Both Cal and I hastened to assure the housekeeper that we were not—Cal a little more hastily than I think was actually polite, to tell you the truth. I mean, he may not know it, but he’d be LUCKY to be married to a girl like me. At least I can support myself without Daddy’s—or some investment banker’s— money, unlike SOME women he might know.
And I am at a completely normal body weight, and don’t have to stick my finger down my throat to maintain it.
Plus, I have two television sets. How many does Cal have? Oh, that’d be none. I asked. Yeah, Cal doesn’t “believe” in TV.
Right. You know what I don’t believe in? People who don’t believe in TV.
And then there’s The Dude. Any man would be lucky to get to share a domicile with The Dude.
But whatever. His loss.
Not like I WANT to marry him. Or anybody. I mean, I have a development deal. What do I need a husband for?
Anyway, Frau Schumacher insisted on making us some snacks while Peter helped us take our bags upstairs. Mark picked up Holly’s bag plus his own and Cal had his stupid backpack (Queen. That’s the only CD he travels with. QUEEN. Although come to think of it, I sort of like Queen. But I’ll never let HIM know that) so the only bag left was mine and when Peter went to pick it up he stiffened suddenly and said, “Vundercat?” in this astonished voice, staring at me.
Then Holly, halfway up the stairs, called down, laughingly, “Yeah, Peter, didn’t you know? Janie’s the creator of Wondercat.”
And Peter—to my everlasting gratification—cried, “You are Jane Harris, the artist of Vundercat? Vundercat is my favorite comic of all time! I have all of the Vundercat collection! I have Veb site dewoted to all things Vundercat !”
“Oh, do you?” I couldn’t help stealing a look at Cal as he was following Holly and Mark up the stairs. Was it my imagination, or was he smiling a little ruefully? Yes, you BETTER feel full of rue, Mr. I Never Heard of Wondercat. Wondercat is INTERNATIONALLY RECOGNIZED. Oh, yes. Even strange, apparently home-schooled German boys in Italy have heard of Wondercat! I may not know what carabinieri means, buddy, but at least I can draw something that has INTERNATIONAL appeal.
“Well, while I’m here,” I said, mostly to get Cal’s goat, “I’ll be happy to draw you some original Wondercats, Peter, for your Web site or whatever.”
A look of total joy suffused Peter’s round-cheeked face, and he raced up the stairs with my bag, chattering a mile a minute about his favorite Wondercat cartoons. I made sure to keep him talking too, so that Cal Langdon heard every word.
Villa Beccacia has seven bedrooms. Holly told Cal and I to pick whichever ones we liked best. Six of the bedrooms are huge, with ancient canopied beds with curtains around the sides, just like Scrooge’s bed in A Christmas Carol, and walls lined with dark panels and bookshelves, on which sit copies of everything from books on bird-watching to Valley of the Dolls in Italian.
The seventh bedroom is tucked away beneath a sloping roof, its single dormer window facing the pool. It’s clearly a boy’s room, with dark blue bedspreads on its twin beds, and matching dark blue tiles in the adjoining bathroom. All of the paintings on the walls are of ships. The oldest one has the words A sua eccellenza il sig Cav Francesco Seratti engraved beneath it. Whatever that means.
I knew at once this was the room for me.
Peter was horrified. He said, “No, you don’t vant this room. You vant the pretty pink room.”
But I said, “Cal can have that one.” (I know he heard me, too, because I heard a snort from the hallway.)
So Peter grudgingly put my bag down and went downstairs to see what his grandmother wanted, since she was bellowing for him (she has quite a set of lungs for such a tiny old lady).
And now I’m lying on one of the twin beds writing this, while everyone else is doing who knows what. All her life, Holly’s talked about Villa Beccacia, the money pit her eccentric uncle bought with his first million doing… well, whatever it is Holly’s uncle does. And now I’m finally IN it! And it feels as much like home as if Zio Matteo were MY uncle!
Oooh, Frau Schumacher is calling us. Authentic Italian (if German-made) snacks must be ready. Yum!
___________________________________________
e-mails
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Malcolm Weatherly <malcolmw@snowstyle.com>
Re: Ciao
Hey! Where are you? I haven’t heard from you. Hope things are going good.
Listen, do you remember if I left my green ESPN hat at your place? Because I can’t find it anywhere. I know I could just go buy a new one, but that was my lucky one. If you remember, could you let me know? And when you get back, send it to me, if you still have it?
Cool.
Rock out.
M
___________________________________________
To: Listserv <Wundercat@wundercatlives.com>
Fr: Peter Schumacher <webmaster@wundercatlives.com>
Re: JANE HARRIS
Listen up, kids! You are not believing what is happening! JANE HARRIS, creator of our beloved Wundercat, is here in Italy! Yes! IN THE HOUSE THAT IS NEXT DOOR TO THE ONE OF MY GRANDMOTHER!!! She is helping her friend to get the elopement in Castelfidardo!
And I have conversed with her! She says she will be drawing me some original sketches of our most favorite cat for this site! YES!!!!!
And JANE HARRIS is looking to be HOT! She has the dark brown hair (long, like we like it, boys!) and big brown eyes, and the very cute figure (sorry, girls!). She is looking very much like the beautiful vampire warrior Selene (played by the ravishing Kate Beck-insdale) in the finest film ever made of all time, Underworld !
And she has slain this mortal’s heart!
I will be reporting more of the news of JANE HARRIS as it is happening!
Until then,
WUNDERCAT LIVES FOREVER!!!!
P. Schumacher
Webmaster, www.wundercatlives.com
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of
Jane Harris
Okay, I know the Italians have contributed a lot to our society, what with da Vinci and Mike Piazza, not to mention cannoli.
But seriously, why couldn’t Holly and Mark have eloped to some country where they actually have electricity?
All right, all right, I KNOW Italy has electricity. In theory. In most areas. It just doesn’t, apparently, extend to her uncle’s house. When the stove is on, anyway.
Because the minute Mark turned the stove on to start boiling water for the pasta Frau Schumacher left us, all of the lights went out.
And when we called Frau Schumacher to ask her if her power was out, too, she was all, “No,” and then when we explained what we’d been doing when the light went off, she cackled, “Oh, you cannot turn the owen on vile the lights are on as vell!”
Seriously. She was laughing like a crazy person at the idea of the stupid Americans trying to use a stove AND have lights on at the same time.
So then we asked her where the fuse box was, so we could turn the power back on (and I guess just eat antipasto for dinner) and she went, “Oh, yes. Vell, you go down the road to the gate—”
And Holly was all, “The ELECTRONIC gate? To the driveway?”
And Frau Schumacher was like, “Yes,” as in, “What other gate would I be talking about, dorkus?” and then went on to say, “Go through the gate to the Wirgin Mary statue under the big tree—”