Meg Cabot - Every Boy’s Got One

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Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

Cal Langdon is a stupid jerk.

He’s the KING of all jerks. He’s the undisputed CHAMPION of all-time jerks. How can Mark even be friends with him? Really? How?

I mean, I GUESS he can be interesting, and even witty, when he’s talking about some arcane topic such as the accordion-making industry. Which, considering that Castelfidardo is apparently the accordion making capital of the known universe, is at least kind of useful. Who knew Zio Matteo is a world renowned accordionist, and that’s why he bought a villa so close to the town that makes his chosen instrument?

There is even an accordion MUSEUM here, featuring— what else?—the world’s largest playable accordion. It’s as tall as Cal Langdon.

There’s also a statue on the village green of a large man playing the accordion. He is, oddly, in the buff. I’m not sure this would fly in America. I mean, a statue of a naked accordionist in the town square.

Still, topics unrelated to human relationships, such as Saudi Arabia’s declining oil reserves and the history of accordion-making? Those are the only subjects about which Cal Langdon ought to be allowed by law to converse. Because when it comes to people, he’s totally and completely in the dark.

No wonder his wife left him.

I honestly don’t even see how he lasted as long as he did on the foreign correspondence trail. I mean, Cal Langdon has been flying around the world—when he wasn’t apparently bouncing around it in the back of a jeep—interviewing dignitaries and world leaders and guerrillas alike.

And yet he seems to know less about people than ME, and I’ve barely left my apartment these past five years, I’ve been so busy drawing. How can someone who knows so many people know so little about them? That’s what I’d like to know.

Whatever. I’m not going to let him spoil this beautiful moment for me. We’re sitting outside the Office of the Secretary of Castelfidardo, which is where they give out the marriage license applications and schedule the town weddings. Mark and Holly are up at the desk, trying to make the clerk understand what they want. They already have all these forms they filled out back at the Italian consulate in New York. It turns out that if an American citizen wants to elope in a foreign country, they can’t just do it all willy-nilly. You have to fill out a bunch of paperwork first, back in the States. For one of the forms, Mark and Holly even had to drag four separate witnesses—unrelated to them, or to each other—to the Italian embassy to swear that they weren’t already married to anyone else (Holly and Mark, I mean).

I don’t know why this is taking so long. Or why Cal Langdon felt compelled to go up there too, and listen in. I’m keeping an eye on him to make sure he isn’t trying to sabotage the proceedings. Now the secretario himself has come out to join in the conversation.

Still, the secretario keeps going, “Non.”

This doesn’t sound good. Shouldn’t he be saying, “Si”?

Holly keeps gesturing to the paperwork from the Italian consulate and going, “But in New York they said—”

And the secretario keeps going, in his broken English, “Yessa, but, in New Yorka, thees is not how we do the engs here in Italia.”

Hmmm. Holly looks stressed. I sense trouble brewing.

Now the secretario is starting to look annoyed.

“I donna understand,” he’s saying. “Why you have to get married here in Castelfidardo? Why not Las Vegas, like normal Americans?”

Uh-oh. Holly’s mad now.

“Because we’re NOT normal Americans,” she says. “We want to get married here in Castelfidardo. We have the right forms. What’s the problem? Just open your calendar and tell us when the mayor has a time available to perform the ceremony, and we’ll be on our—”

Oh, my. Peter Schumacher just walked in. He must have followed us on his little motorino.

Poor boy. He must really not have anything else to do….

Oh, the secretario is handing something to Holly—

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HAGUE CONVENTION ABOLISHING THE REQUIREMENT OF CONSULAR LEGALISATION FOR FOREIGN PUBLIC DOCUMENTS

The United States of America and Italy and some other countries have signed a convention abolishing the requirements of diplomatic and consular acknowledgements or legalizations of public documents originating in one convention country and intended for use in another convention country signatory of the convention.

This consulate general, therefore, will not henceforth acknowledge or legalize public documents: notarial documents, deeds, certificates of vital statistics, wills, court decrees, etc.

To be valid in any other of the countries signatories of the convention, all documents must carry an APOSTILLE.

To obtain the “APOSTILLE” in any of the United States, a document is first notarized by a Notary Public in that state and then authenticated by the Country Clerk in the country in which the notary is qualified.

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To: Listserv <Wundercat@wundercatlives.com>

Fr: Peter Schumacher <webmaster@wundercatlives.com>

Re: JANE HARRIS

NEWS FLASH! JANE HARRIS is here in Italy to be the witness for the wedding of her friends. Today they go to the Ufficio di Secretario of Castelfidardo for the license to marry, and the secretario said NON! He would not allow it, as the friends of Jane Harris did not get APOSTILLE from the US consulate in Roma!

I have driven my motorino straight from the Ufficio di Secretario myself to let you in on the news, and also to tell my grandmother, who says she will speak to the secretario herself after lunch, because she knows his mother! And she says his mother will be very angry when she learns her son would not let the American lovers marry! Grandmother says she will take this to Mayor Torelli himself, if she must!

At the Ufficio di Secretario, JANE HARRIS was wearing pink short-sleeved shirt, trousers in black cotton, and pink sandals! Her toenails are painted pink to match! JANE HARRIS is still looking very cute!

More later from #1 fan of Wundercat!

Wundercat Lives—4eva!

Peter

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To: Claire Harris <charris2004@freemail.com>

Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>

Re: You

Disaster! The city of Castelfidardo won’t allow Holly and Mark to get married here! Not without some stamp from the US consulate in Rome!

Which means we have to drive all the way there and back to get it. That’s another eight hours there and back in the car! And we only have the house until Friday, when Holly’s uncle comes back from his latest accordion tour. And the Secretario says the mayor’s calendar is totally booked, and only the mayor can perform wedding ceremonies!

Everybody is pretty bummed. Well, except for Cal, of course. He is totally against marriage on principle. He thinks there must be something inherently wrong with you and Dad for having been together for so long. He has absolutely no idea how normal human beings function. It’s possible he’s a robot.

Anyway, we’re going to grab lunch in town and reconnoiter back at the secretario’s office later. Holly’s uncle’s housekeeper might be able to do something, according to her great-grandson. Apparently, she knows everybody’s mother, and can shame them into doing whatever she wants.

Hope Dad’s back is feeling better! Good thing, those gloves.

Love,

Janie

PDA of Cal Langdon

Insisted on buying lunch, as everyone in our party was completely dejected (excepting myself, of course).

It seems that Italian bureaucracy is doing my job for me, insofar as keeping Mark and Holly from wedded bliss (or bust). It appears the young couple cannot be wed unless they get a specific stamp on a form that can only be secured at the American embassy back in Rome. Their choices are to skip the whole thing or pile back into the car and drive back to Rome tomorrow.

At this point, Mark seems to be leaning toward making the trip. Surprisingly, it’s his lady love whose resolve seems to be flagging. I wonder if Holly is quite as enthusiastic about the idea of marrying Mark as I—and her friend Jane—once presumed.

This, at least, explains why Ms. Harris insists upon carrying on our conversations via text. She must have known that her friend’s enthusiasm was not all it should be.

And I must say, if a small detail like a stamp on a form and an eight-hour drive are enough to drive Ms. Caputo into such dudgeon, perhaps Mark really is better off single.

The girls are in the ladies’ room, doing whatever it is women do when they enter such facilities together. Mark is on his cell with the car rental agency in Ancona. Apparently, the replacement vehicle New York Journal promised him earlier this morning is no longer available. Good thing he called before we made the trip.

Lunch was delicious, by the way. We found a small family-run establishment popular with the many accordion-factory workers in town. For twenty euros total we enjoyed an exquisitely prepared lemon pasta, grilled scallops, insalata caprese, and a carafe of bianco frizzante. We received a number of odd looks, to be sure, from the natives. This is clearly a restaurant that doesn’t see many Americans.