Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Boston Amy

A my was all atwitter. She really didn't care where they went. It was always a magical and exciting experience being with the girls. Except for the little brouhaha on the ship two years ago . . .

At the beginning of the cruise, an elegant woman named Marilyn had been seated with them during dinner. She was several years older, refined, and exquisitely dressed. After a few days on the high seas, Marilyn hinted that she had met a nice gentleman but said very little else. The foursome was concerned that a woman of Marilyn's means might be an easy target for a gold-digging lothario. Marilyn was too nice to be taken advantage of, so the girls felt compelled to find out who this Romeo might be.

One evening, Amy and Nina stealthily followed Marilyn to one of the promenades and hid behind a stack of lounge chairs. When the mystery man arrived on the deck, Amy was shocked. Stunned. She had been having "Dad sightings" for the entire trip, but she thought it was just her conscience menacing her for leaving her father alone for the holidays. Now, here he was in the flesh! As she tried to reposition herself to get a better look, she tripped and sent the stack of lounge chairs crashing onto the deck. After the gasps of surprise subsided, Amy confronted her father.

"What are you doing here?"

William Blanchard, just as shocked to see his daughter, explained his golf outing in Palm Beach was cancelled, and since he was already in South Florida, he decided to go on a cruise. The explanation was followed by apologies to Marilyn from Amy and Nina. "We wanted to be sure you were safe." The apology was accepted, and the ruckus was now a favorite joke among the group, especially at Marilyn and William's wedding a year later.

Amy was looking through her scrapbook. Scrapbooking was one of her hobbies. She liked taking pictures, but felt putting them in an album evoked a stronger memory sensation than looking at an electronic image on your phone. There was something about the tactile nature of the photo, turning the pages of a book. It was a physical record of the experience. You were using more than one of your senses. A finger swipe on a screen did not convey the same sensation. She knew that to be true, or at least that was one of the things she was working on at MIT. The more senses you use, the more vibrant the experience. Well, duh. That's why so many people are willing to plunk down over a thousand dollars for virtual reality glasses. Her concern was that people were getting further and further away from reality, and it was causing so much angst, depression, and anxiety. She sighed and picked up her cat, Gimpy. "I'd rather snuggle with you any day." Blinky looked up from his perch as if to say, "My turn!"

"Yes, you too." She placed Gimpy on the floor and gave Blinky some mush. "So what do you think about me going to see the Hadron Collider?" she asked her kitty. He just stared blankly at her. "Alright. How about Italy?" His ears perked up at the word Italy . "That got your attention! Maybe it's all the pizza we eat," Amy giggled.

Peter was on his way home. It occurred to Amy that she agreed to go to Europe without conferring with him. She shrugged and looked down at her fur family. "Well, I'm going anyway. What was it that Frankie said? Questo è tutto ?" If they could, Blinky and Gimpy would have shrugged their shoulders. Italian wasn't part of their human lexicon. They didn't even like pizza. Just the anchovies.

Amy remembered the banter Peter had with Giovanni about who made the best pizza. Giovanni was horrified at Peter's suggestion and told him he was crazy.

"Boston? Pizza? Pazzo!" Giovanni made the familiar gesture of his thumb touching his pointer and middle fingers and shaking his wrist. "Napoli! It's-a where they invented the pizza!"

Recalling that conversation gave Amy an idea as to how she was going to present the trip to Peter: Giovanni wants us to be his guest at a villa in Salerno, and he will take you to the best pizzeria in all of Southern Italy. It wasn't the complete truth, but she was sure she and Frankie could convince Giovanni that it was his idea and Peter would go for it. None would be the wiser. She leaned over and whispered to her whiskered friends, "Don't tell Peter." Blinky looked at her wide-eyed, and Amy pretended that he was reacting to her plan. "What do you mean, what's in it for you?"

Peter's keys clanged against the door. "What's in it for who? Or should I say whom?" he smiled.

"Oh, just a little convo I was having with the kids." She walked over and gave him a hug.

"Want to clue me in?" Peter asked, as he set his briefcase down on the bench in the entryway.

"I do, but in a bit. Let's decide on supper first." She paused. "How about pizza?"

"Sure. With a Caesar salad on the side?"

"Absolutely." Amy's wheels were turning. She'd remind Peter of his conversation with Giovanni and then segue into the trip. Brilliant. And, for all intents and purposes, she was.

"I'll go wash off the dust. Be right back," Peter said, as he headed up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Still under construction?" Amy called out.

"Yes. It's taking forever. I hope they're finished before the end of the year. Tax season will be a bear if we have to work under those conditions."

Peter was a crackerjack accountant and was making boatloads of money for his firm, but when he asked to be made a partner, his bosses decided to "keep it in the family." That was when he considered starting his own firm with the legal advice of Richard.

"Do not sign a non-compete clause. That's rule number one," Richard had told him.

Peter didn't think they would ask such a thing. "How would they expect me to make a living?" Peter reasoned.

"They don't care what happens to you after you leave the firm. It's an ugly truth," Richard stated.

"That doesn't seem fair." Peter was used to things being fair and exact. Numbers were exact. A nine was a nine was a nine, unless you cheated, but that was not Peter's way of conducting business.

"Fair? Where have you been living?" Richard chuckled. "Don't take it personally."

"But I brought a lot of business into the company."

"And they don't care about that, either, unless you take those accounts with you," Richard warned. "It can get very tricky."

Peter trusted Richard's counsel. Peter was a numbers guy. His only experience with legal matters was if a client was being audited by the IRS, which was rare—he was accurate, thorough, and careful.

"What do you suggest I do?" Peter asked.

"Can you go without a salary for a year?"

"Probably, but why would I want to do that?" Peter asked innocently.

"Then you can sign a one-year non-compete clause and then steal your clients," Richard chuckled.

"Can I do that?" Peter asked in wonderment.

"You can if the exit contract is worded correctly."

"Can you do that?" Peter inquired.

"I'll do my best to advise you," Richard reassured him. "Another idea would be to try to buy your way into the partnership. They may want to keep it in the family, but lots of families can be encouraged with a chunk of change," Richard continued. "I assume you have a good idea as to what the firm is worth in annual billing."

"Yes."

"Can you offer them a twenty percent buy-in?"

Peter considered. "Maybe fifteen."

"Mull it over. You have some options," Richard suggested.

As per Richard's advice, Peter approached the senior member of the family and offered a ten percent buy-in. Start low. Aim high . The patriarch of the family was quite impressed with Peter's confident proposal and made the deal with him, much to his sons' dismay. Peter would own ten percent of the business. Truth be told, Peter was the one doing all the heavy lifting at the company. The only heavy lifting the sons were doing was hoisting their Baccarat crystal tumblers filled with single malt scotch.

Richard stepped in to help reorganize the LLC, making sure Peter was protected should things go south. He would not be liable for any legal fees should someone bring a suit against the company if it wasn't one of his direct customers. Everyone was responsible for their own client list.

With the infusion of Peter's investment, the firm needed to remodel their existing offices. Peter would now have a bigger office and a bigger space for his assistant. Hence the construction.

Amy heard the shower running and sent a quick text to Frankie:

Having pizza tonight. Will call. Tell Gio I'll be calling and he can invite Peter to do a pizza tour.

Frankie responded immediately:

You are brilliant, my friend.

Amy phoned the local pizzeria and placed the order. Amy looked down at her whiskered friend and saw Blinky licking his lips. "Of course, I'll get anchovies on the side!"

The woman on the other end of the call asked, "Excuse me? I didn't quite get that."

Amy giggled. "Sorry. I was talking to my cat. He loves anchovies."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. You wanted them on the side?"

"Yes, please," Amy answered in her normal perky tone. The woman gave Amy the total and said it would be about forty minutes.

A short while later, Peter hopped down the stairs, freshly showered and wearing a tracksuit.

"Going for a run?" Amy asked. "Pizza will be here in about a half hour."

"Nah. Just wanted to get into something less restrictive. As you would say, ‘comfy.' " Peter let out a long, relaxed sigh and headed toward the fridge. He pulled out a Molson, and then poured it into a frosted glass from the freezer. "Would you like beer or wine with your pizza?"

Amy glanced at the crisp, chilled beverage in Peter's hand. "That looks refreshing. I think I'll have one of those."

Peter repeated the steps. Beer, glass, pour.

"You okay?" Peter sensed Amy was a little more wiggly than usual.

"Me? Yes! Why?" Amy knew she was starting to blush. She could feel the heat moving up her cheeks.

"You may no longer have purple hair, but I know when something is going on in that head of yours." Peter grinned.

"Just thinking about pizza." She batted her eyes innocently. "Oh, hey, I have an idea! When the pizza gets here, let's FaceTime Frankie and Gio. You can show him the best pizza in Boston!"

"You can be very amusing," Peter laughed, tussling her chestnut-brown hair streaked with golden highlights. "It's funny. When I first met you, I never thought you could be my type. Purple hair, black horn-rimmed glasses, and goofy clothes."

"Goofy?" Amy put her hands on her hips, pretending to be annoyed. "I'll have you know that I was considered one of the more fashionable people at Stanford."

Peter cleared his throat and smirked. He leaned against the kitchen counter. "Do you really think that's an accolade worth mentioning?" He knew he was getting her goat. "Stanford isn't exactly known for its couture." He cringed, expecting her to give him a friendly smack on the arm.

"Precisely. Ergo I went through an entire makeover." She curtsied in her palazzo pants.

Peter looked down at her feet. "But you couldn't give up the combat boots." This time he raised both his arms in jest to shield his face.

"These are Tory Burch, Mr. Smarty Pants." She lifted her right heel, revealing the double-T, crocodile-embossed pattern.

Peter placed his thumb and forefinger under her chin. "You know I'm teasing, right?" He kissed her on the nose.

"Of course." Amy blushed.

The doorbell interrupted their banter, and Gimpy and Blinky sat at attention. They could smell the anchovies from several yards away.

Peter paid the delivery guy while Amy got plates, forks, knives, and napkins. She stifled a giggle. She knew Giovanni would bust Peter's chops about eating pizza with a knife and fork. She could hear Giovanni instructing Peter, "You fold-a the pizza down-a the middle, like-a so." Amy thought it was cute that Giovanni would slip back into a noticeable heavy accent when he was excited.

Peter pulled out a chair for Amy as Gimpy and Blinky looked on, their heads bobbing left and right as Peter passed the anchovies. Amy took one of the small fish and cut it up into several pieces, put them on a plate, and placed it on the floor. If cats could applaud, they would have.

Amy and Peter clinked glasses. "Cent'anni!" Amy proclaimed. It was an Italian toast, when translated meant One hundred years!

"Oh! Let's call Frankie and Giovanni, and you can show him how good our pizza is. Looks. Whatever." Amy was animated.

Peter gave her an odd look. "Okay. If you say so, but we can't do a taste test over the phone."

"Well, duh." Amy twisted her mouth. "Come on. You can taunt him."

"Me? Taunt?" Peter gave her another odd look. He wasn't the taunting type.

"Oh, Peter." Amy cocked her head. "Don't you want to at least tease Giovanni about pizza?"

"Not really, but you seem to be keen on it." Peter looked at her suspiciously.

"If you must know, I spoke with Frankie today, and she reminded me about your ongoing pizza feud."

"Oh, I see." He closed one eye and examined her with the other. "Are the two of you up to something?"

"Me?" Amy placed both her hands on her heart. She was a terrible liar.

"Alright, professor. I'll get to the bottom of this deep-dish pizza challenge." He held out his hand for Amy to give him her phone.

Amy bit her lip in anticipation. Their plan was working. He opened the FaceTime app and hit the button that said Frankie .

Frankie answered. "Peter! Is everything alright?" She figured it was, but played along just in case there was a misfire in their scheme.

"Everything is just fine, thanks." Peter was giving Amy a suspicious look. "And you?"

"Couldn't be better. What's up?" Frankie kept her cool.

"Amy suggested we have a pizza smackdown, but obviously we can't do that over the phone." Peter smirked.

"I have just the person you need to speak to." Frankie turned the phone over to Giovanni.

"Pietro! Come stai ?" Giovanni's big smile filled the screen.

" Molto bono ," Peter answered, which made Giovanni laugh.

" Molto bene ! But at least-a you try," Giovanni said. "What's-a this about pizza?"

"I have no idea, except Amy insisted I call you so I could show you what the best pizza looks like." Peter grinned.

Giovanni laughed again. "This is-a no contest. I'll make a deal with you. You come to Italy, and I bring you to the best pizzeria in all of Campania."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Peter asked innocently.

"You and Amy come to Salerno for New Year's. I have a house you can stay at-a no charge."

"Seriously?" Peter asked.

" Sì . Very seriously. I am exchanging my apartment for a house in Baronissi for all my friends to visit with me."

"Sounds interesting," Peter replied.

" Sì . They are friends of my cousin in Salerno. They work at the university with him. They wanna spend New Year's ata Times-a Square. So I offer them my apartment and they offer their house."

Amy could barely hold it together. She leaned her head toward the phone so she could see Giovanni's face. "A house? In Baronissi?"

" Sì . A few kilometers from my family. It's very convenient to Sorrento, Amalfi, Positano." He paused, waiting for it to sink in. "So, you come?"

Peter turned to Amy and chuckled. "Did you know about this?"

Once again, Amy could not fib. "Kinda. Sorta."

"That's a very generous offer. I am going to have to talk it over with Amy." He shook his head. "As if she would say no."

Amy crossed her fingers on both hands and looked up with those big round eyes. "Pretty please?" Amy was going, whether Peter said yes or no. She simply wanted him to decide whether or not he wanted to go. She just wasn't telling him.

"Sounds like a wonderful opportunity." Peter grinned.

Amy considered mentioning her side trip to Geneva, but thought it would be better if she had the visitor's permit in hand first. This way, it would be very difficult for Peter to object. Meanwhile, she was bouncing up and down. "Real pizza!" Blinky and Gimpy had already made haste away from the action. When Amy got excited, she could throw off seismic-type tremors across the floor.

"I need to bring Amy back down to earth. So, I guess we'll be spending New Year's Eve together, again," Peter chuckled. "But please promise we won't have to cook dinner for sixty people this time."

"Absolutely not. Only fifty!" Giovanni teased.

"Funny. I guess I'll leave the rest of the planning up to you, Frankie, and Amy." He grinned as Amy danced in circles around him.

" Molto bene ! See you in a couple of months. Ciao , Pietro!"

" Ciao !" Peter replied, and ended the call. He turned to Amy. "How long have you been planning this coup?"

Amy stopped dancing and shuffled her feet. "Not long." Then she jumped up and gave Peter a big hug. "This is going to be fantastic!"

"I am going to leave all the travel arrangements up to you." He poked her nose with his finger.

"There is not a problem I cannot solve." Amy was exaggerating slightly, but Peter knew she was close to the truth. "I think we're going to have to reheat this." She pointed to the cold pizza.

"Thinking about real, authentic pizza makes me not want to eat this." Peter frowned.

"Don't let Giovanni hear you say that!" Amy blurted out. She gave him another squeeze, hoping it would keep her away from the subject of Geneva. At least for now.