botanical specimen shrivel and wilt by day seven. And no matter if you plucked, pruned, or watered, the florae faced an inevitable death. I let her know I’d be arriving empty-handed.
She shouted into the phone. “Hey! My Bluetooth isn’t working. I have you on speakerphone now. I’ve never been to a prerehearsal dinner before. For the wedding party there’s usually only the rehearsal dinner beforehand. This is really unusual. But it’s totally Jane, right? Doing her own thing?”
“Yeah, having a rehearsal rehearsal dinner seems like a very Jane thing to do.” I huffed back up the hill. “I’m almost there. I’ll let her know you’ll be a little late.” My phone buzzed with an incoming call from my mom. “Hey, I have to go, my mom’s trying to do video chat.”
We said our quick goodbyes and I switched over. “Hi, Mom, what time is it in Italy?”
All I could see was a peach-hued blur. As usual, her thumb was blocking her phone camera. “Early morning,” she croaked. “We having jet lag pretty bad.” Dad’s snores rumbled in the background.
“Are you enjoying your visit?”
“It be okay. I eat too many cannoli. Too much dairy but I eat anyway. You know, I have lactose problem since you were born.”
I sighed. “I know. It’s one of your favorite topics to bring up.”
“Rome is nice. Florence is nice. You should come to Italy. One day, when you have honeymoon. But you need husband first.”
As if on cue, the sky darkened to black, and torrential rain bullets fell from the sky. I had no umbrella, no raincoat, and for some stupid reason I’d chosen today to wear suede shoes.
“Mom, I really have to go. Have fun there and enjoy your cannoli.”
“Okay. We can’t buy you any cannoli because it will get rotten. But we buy you hat.” Her thumb moved off the camera so she could show me a bright yellow cap with ROMA in red letters on the bill. She turned it side to side to show me the Italian flags stitched in various places along the trim.
“Wow, that’s . . . something. Thanks for getting me a gift. Call me when you’re back home! Have a good—”
She hung up before I finished my sentence.
I picked up my pace at the crest of the hill. According to the map on my phone, I had arrived at my destination, drenched, winded, and perplexed. I scanned the newly constructed building. Hmmm. No door handle. Or to be more specific, there was no fucking door. The only thing on the building’s white wall was the name of the restaurant in tiny gold lettering.
A giant golden button on a white marble pedestal caught my eye. I looked around to see if anyone could help me. Was this some kind of IQ test formulated by Jane? What the hell was going on?
I pushed the button and waited.
A rumbling sound emanated from the inside of the building, and the slab of wall in front of me swung open at a slug’s pace, revealing the bustling restaurant hidden behind the white heavy panel.
The exquisitely dressed hostess, with a perfect bun and flawless skin, walked toward me and said hello. Her gold bangles jangled as she waved me forward.
I staggered in and cleared my throat. “Hi. I’m with Jane Townsend’s party.”
She smiled at me with her impeccably straight, white teeth. “Of course, I just seated them in the back. I’ll show you to their room.”
We walked past the dozens of clients having work gatherings and fanciful dinner dates. Colorful Chihuly glass sculptures hung from the ceiling. The lighting was dim, but not so dim that you couldn’t read the menu or tell if your wine was white, rosé, or red. Each table showcased miniature candelabras with teeny lit candles. Customers seated along our path smiled as they ate towers of oysters and mounds of shrimp cocktail. I loved seafood but I liked the kind of place where they tied a bib around your neck and handed you a giant Thor mallet to smash open whole crabs. This place was way out of my league.
I asked the hostess, “So can I ask you something about that really giant, slowly moving wall door? Isn’t that a fire hazard or something? Do you feel like you’re in the Haunted Mansion room with the hidden panel at Disneyland?”
“We have several fire exits on the premises, all have a green Exit sign overhead.” She pointed to them as we walked to the back of the restaurant, ignoring