Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,45

her wire-rims. "Because I was kidnapped from St. Kate's College by a strapping man on a John Deere tractor and carried off to his grain farm in Iowa, where we fell in love."

Aw, life imitating art. That was so sweet! Despite my depression, I felt my mouth curve into a smile.

"You know who else wanted to fly the skies years ago?" Mom continued. "The Severid twins. Britha told me when we were shelving aviation books at the library one afternoon. That would have been the six hundred section, located in the northeast corner of the building by the restrooms."

"They wanted to travel the world?" I asked, testing the back of my head again in the hopes that my hair had miraculously grown back. "But they've hardly set foot outside Windsor City their entire lives."

Mom shrugged. "Britha said her father didn't want them parading around in those skimpy uniforms or demeaning themselves by serving demon liquor, so they never got to go. But Barbro did the next best thing. She wrote a book about the romantic adventures of a stewardess from a little town in the Midwest. She was even thinking of turning it into a continuing series. Can you picture Barbro writing a book like that?"

I'll say. Love and romance written by a woman who'd probably never dated a man in her life.

"What an imagination she must have, Emily. Think about it. She wrote that entire book without ever having set foot on an airplane!"

I stared at Mom for a long, numbing moment. Mmm, okay.

"Too bad it never got published, but writing it made Barbro realize she really liked tinkering with words, so her greeting card career grew out of the whole experience. She's made a wonderful contribution to the industry. Did you know she was the first person to pen the rhyme, 'Roses are red, violets are blue'? And once, when she had writer's block, she even came up with, 'Have a nice day.' I don't know how she does it."

Me either, but I wish she'd stop. I gave Mom a hard look. "Have you been outside the hotel today?"

"Not yet. With all this work who has time to sightsee?"

Iowans were so responsible. Even the ones like Mom, who'd been born and raised in Minnesota.

Knock knock knock.

Had to be Jackie. I crossed the room to let her in.

"I found the perfect salon," she announced, when I opened the door. "It's not too far from the Duomo and according to the ad, they specialize in damaged hair. It's called 'Donatella.' Sounds pretty upscale, hunh? Hey, you got some of your clothes back!" She wandered into the room. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Andrew. I didn't know you were in here."

Mom fixed Jackie with a vacuous stare. I'd explained about Jack's transformation into Jackie before the trip, but so far the only kind of communication she could manage with the female version of Jack was blank stares...and a brief comment on the plane about how pretty Jackie's outfit was. But this was fairly typical. Even at her most freaked out and confused, Mom was always complimentary. She lifted her hand toward Jackie in an awkward greeting. "Lovely outfit you're wearing."

"Not for long. I bought some new threads, and I'm going to jump into them right after we get Emily's hair fixed. Hey, Em, you mind if I leave my bags here and pick them up when we get back?"

"No problem." But there was a problem I still needed to address, and it suddenly became clear how I might resolve it -- much to my dismay. But what the heck, I didn't have any big plans for the evening anyway. "Say, Mom, why don't you spend the night in here with me? We can have a sleepover."

"A sleepover? Why, Emily, that's so thoughtful of you. I haven't thought of sleepovers for years. Remember the ones you used to have when you were a girl?"

Jackie rolled her eyes. "I hope they were more fun than the one we had in Ireland."

Mom sighed with disappointment. "I'd love to, Emily, but I really can't. I need to take care of your grandmother."

"Mom! She doesn't need taking care of! She has a white belt in Tae Kwon Do!"

"That doesn't matter. She's my mother, and I can't expect George to keep her company indefinitely. Especially with her hearing loss. He was a saint to take up the slack for me today, but enough is enough. George Farkas didn't come on this trip to babysit your grandmother."

I smiled. At least