Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Preparations Underway

T he big trip was now only a month away. The first item on Frankie's agenda was to find a kitty sitter. Anita filled in the year before when Giovanni made an emergency trip to Tahoe, but everyone would be in Italy.

As much as people were in close proximity in New York, most didn't know their neighbors who lived down the hall—unless you were in a rent-controlled or rent-stabilized building, where everyone stayed in the same apartment forever. If you were able to find an affordable apartment, you held on to it. Frankie scoffed at sitcoms where the characters lived in New York and had massive apartments but did not have jobs to afford them. With the exception of Seinfeld, where Jerry originally lived in a small studio, there were few others that resembled reality for anyone looking to be fiscally solvent living in the Big Apple.

Frankie started with three roommates, then moved to a smaller place with two roommates, and then another apartment where she shared it with only one. She was thirty-five before she was able to afford her own studio, which was over twenty-five hundred dollars a month—a steal for the neighborhood. "Rent poor" was a common situation among most people under forty. She could have commuted from her folks' house, but she wasn't about to be one of those adult children still living with their parents. There were many reasons to take that route, but Frankie wanted to prove to herself, more than anyone, that she could make it on her own. Most of the time, she was living paycheck to paycheck, occasionally scrounging in coat pockets for change to take the subway, but Frankie was capable of managing her funds. She always put a few dollars away for her annual vacations, and a dribble into her retirement account, especially since her company matched it. But whoever said you should have at least six months' worth of savings never started at the bottom and lived in New York City.

Oftentimes her cynicism would get the better of her, and she would have to stop, take a breath, count her blessings, and remind herself that she was exactly where she's supposed to be, even if it might be painful or scary. The challenges of living in the big city were ever present with traffic jams, subway issues, and cramped, crumbling sidewalks. There are a few choice neighborhoods that are pristine, but those come at a very high price. As in very . A two-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side could start at eight thousand dollars a month, and that wasn't even the luxury buildings. Being a New Yorker requires grit, determination, and optimism. Yes, optimism that things would improve from year to year.

In Frankie's case, they had, but not without a lot of angst, heartbreak, and disappointment. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and Frankie was as much a heroine at this stage of her life. She recognized talent, nurtured it, and was given the opportunity to develop her own line of cookbooks in a very competitive market. The salary wasn't what most people outside of publishing would expect, but it's not an industry you get into for the money; you do it because of your love of books.

Television glamorized the publishing industry with narratives of unknown authors making a fabulous living writing in their chalets on a mountainside. Frankie would laugh out loud when the storyline also featured some other unrealistic publishing myth, like an author who turned in a manuscript and the book was on sale two weeks later. "Like that would ever happen!" she'd bark, sending Bandit scurrying to his hiding place in the closet. Most people were not aware that books are turned in to the publisher a year before they go to press. It is a seemingly never-ending process of editing, copy-editing, cover treatments, jacket copy, and the long line of production requirements. They say you don't want to know how the sausage is made, and Frankie suspected that applied to most things, including books. Occasionally she would try to explain the intricacies of book publishing, but people's eyes would glaze over.

Frankie had been living in the city for over ten years. It didn't take long for her to realize her ideals and principles would be constantly challenged, and life is filled with many lessons. Frankie made it her mission to learn them, and hopefully not repeat them if they were bad.

When it came to men, however, she wasn't very good at figuring it out until Giovanni entered her life. Even in the beginning of their relationship, she was dubious. And scared witless. She didn't want her heart to be broken again. Ever. It was always surprising when people discovered Frankie could be insecure. Her sense of humor and gung-ho approach to everything exuded confidence, and she was confident that whatever the situation, it could go one way or the other. Good or bad. Most people would use extreme odds to evaluate the possibility of success. Frankie used the fifty-fifty quotient. Perhaps that was why she tackled assignments, ideas, and life with enthusiasm. She figured she had a fifty percent chance of succeeding.

Now she was facing a fifty-fifty chance of upsetting Giovanni's family. Even though Giovanni insisted they could share a room at his mother's house, Frankie had misgivings. It would be her first visit to the Lombardis, and she didn't want to offend anyone by coming across as a floozie. So, there were two things on her agenda: find a kitty sitter, and talk to Giovanni about sleeping arrangements.

Frankie phoned her veterinarian and asked if they could recommend someone who could come to her apartment twice a day to feed the cats and change the litter. She was happy to hear that one of the technicians was up to the task, and she lived just a few blocks away. One issue solved.

She kept going back and forth in her head about the sleeping arrangements. Giovanni was adamant, but Frankie knew in her gut that there could be trouble when it came to Aunt Lucia. Frankie had never met her but heard stories. Giovanni showed Frankie a recent photo of her and his mother together. The photo looked like it had been taken a hundred years ago, with Aunt Lucia wearing all black from head to toe, down to the big, ugly, clunky shoes. Frankie wondered about Aunt Lucia's footwear. Wasn't Italy known for their beautiful shoemaking? She chuckled and told Giovanni that Aunt Lucia reminded her of Strega Nona, a character in children's book about an old woman who uses magic to help the villagers. In some places, the book had been banned because of the use of magic, but it had a moral story about authority, punishment befitting the crime, and most of all, trust. But it wasn't the storyline that Frankie recalled as much as it was how Strega Nona looked. True, her attire was more colorful than Aunt Lucia's, but they wore the same long dress, apron, and babushka. But it was the shoes that really stood out. Frankie couldn't get past the shoes. She told Giovanni that she may not be able to contain her laughter, but Giovanni assured her that everyone was aware that Frankie likes to laugh. A lot. She was sure she'd be hysterical the entire trip. But in a good way.

The next hurdle was what to pack. Salerno could be chilly at night, with temperatures in the mid-fifties during the day. Sweaters, slacks, and light jackets were probably a good bet, plus something dressy for church.

After the opulent dinner of the seven fishes, everyone was expected to go to church. Midnight mass at Duomo di Salerno—the Cathedral of Salerno, which was dedicated to the Saints Matthew and Gregory the Great—was a requirement. Considered one of the most spectacular cathedrals, it dates back to the eleventh century, built by the Normans, and then finished in the Baroque design in the 1600s. The spectacular Christmas service emphasized brotherhood, sisterhood, kindness, compassion, and generosity, remembering the gifts from the Magi. It was about sharing.

Frankie took it as "a good sign" that Matthew translated to Mateo, her friend and author. Frankie always looked for signs as her inner compass. She even kept track of those funny coincidences in a journal and discovered she had almost one per day. She truly believed that it was a higher power validating her existence.

She pulled the closet doors open and inspected her wardrobe. At least she didn't have to dig out her summer clothes. The temperature wouldn't be too different than winter in New York. They would be away for almost two weeks, so she decided to pack five pairs of leggings, five sweaters, two blazers, two casual dresses, and two fancy-ish outfits. Boots, sneakers, and an ankle bootie with a two-inch heel would cover the footwear. She assumed she could do a load of laundry at Mrs. Lombardi's, but she wanted to be sure she wouldn't be imposing. She phoned Giovanni to get the all-clear.

"Frankie, cara , you will not be allowed to do laundry."

"Oh." Frankie didn't know what else to say, but then Giovanni continued.

"Mama would never let guests do their own laundry. She will do it for you."

"Absolutely not!" Frankie protested. She didn't want Giovanni's mother dealing with her underwear.

"Please, Frankie. Not to worry about it."

"If you say so." Frankie envisioned washing her undergarments in the sink. But then what? Hang them where? She sighed. It was something she'd deal with when the time came. She didn't know Mrs. Lombardi very well. By the time Frankie and Giovanni were considered a couple, Rosevita had moved back to Italy. She would visit, but spent most of the time with the grandchildren, and Frankie was always working. This would be a fine opportunity for the two women to get to know each other better. Another reason to consider sleeping on the sofa. Make a good impression.

Frankie began the process of organizing her clothes in piles on the floor. She wanted to make sure she wasn't taking too much. She didn't want to overpack, which was an easy thing for most people to do. At least women. Men? They could pack one pair of underwear and think they've got it covered. Frankie chuckled. Not Giovanni. He was a little different than most. His suitcase would most likely be bigger than hers!

Speaking of suitcases, they decided to use one suitcase just for gifts and then leave it in Salerno. On the other hand, if the girls had their way, they'd need it for all their own shopping procurements. You don't go to Italy and return home empty-handed.

Frankie was taking inventory of her clothes when Bandit decided the pile of sweaters would make a nice cozy bed and curled up on the navy-blue cashmere tunic. "Hey! That's mine!" Frankie said to her furry friend. He stretched, yawned, got up, turned himself around, and settled back down on the soft batch of clothes. Frankie knew that was a signal that he wasn't about to move, and she was sure to pack a lint brush.

Frankie was perusing her Lonely Planet Guide to Naples and the Amalfi Coast and began making a list of day trips. Lists. Frankie was obsessed with them. She had stacks of four-by-six file cards in wooden boxes or trays in almost every room, including her office at work. Every morning or the night before, she would make a to-do list and carry the card in her pocket or in the folds of her tote where she packed her cell phone. She would make lists for her staff, her friends, her family. It was a running joke among her friends when they were on vacation: "Did you get your list today from Bossy Pants?" they'd ask each other. She never heard anyone from work call her that, but she was sure there were whispers behind her back. She didn't mind. She was a good boss. A fair boss. When push came to shove, her group knew she always had their backs, and they could go to her with any issues.

She ripped a page from one of her many wall calendars and started to plot her ideal trip. Naturally she would check with Giovanni, but having a wish list was always a good idea. The first few days would be spent helping Rosevita and Aunt Lucia shop and cook. Once the rest of the crew arrived, she could be more flexible, and Giovanni had no expectations of being with her twenty-four-seven. As long as everyone was together for New Year's Eve, Frankie and her gang could run rampant in Southern Italy. The trip was a month away, and she was already all over-the-top excited. This would be her first real vacation with Giovanni. The escapade in Tahoe didn't count, considering her band of friends was on a rescue mission, she ended up on crutches, and they happily volunteered to save New Year's Eve for the hotel guests. No, that was definitely not a vacation.

She pulled out an index card and wrote down her ideas:

· Pizza tour for Peter

· Mozzarella tour for Frankie

· Pompeii for Richard

It wasn't a lot, but it was a good start. Plus, Giovanni had a special place he wanted to bring everyone to watch the sunset with a bottle of prosecco. Maybe two bottles.

Frankie checked the time. It was past eight o'clock. No wonder her stomach was growling. She picked up her phone and called Giovanni and asked him to bring her something to eat. She always left it up to him, since he knew what the best dish of the night was. Bandit was still snoozing on her sweater, and Sweet P. was sitting on the back of the sofa, watching her with a keen eye. Frankie realized this was going to be the first time she was going to be away from her. "Oh, sweetie. Mommy is going to go on a trip with Giovanni. We'll be gone for"—Frankie counted on her fingers—"twelve darks. You know what that means?" She picked up the kitty and snuggled her face against Sweet P.'s neck. "You and Bandit will have the place all to yourselves." Sweet P. still wasn't convinced this was a good idea. She sprung from Frankie's arms and went back to the sofa. "Oh, don't be like that. You'll make Mommy sad." Frankie sat on the sofa and began to stroke the kitty. "It's going to be alright. I promise. Becky from . . ." Frankie stopped. She didn't want to mention the animal hospital. "Becky, a very nice lady, is going to feed you and check on you twice a day." She attempted another snuggle with the black feline. This time, Sweet P. acquiesced and rubbed her head against Frankie's chin. Progress! Frankie was surprised when the veterinarian told her that cats born in the wild, especially from feral mother cats, may never become completely domesticated, even if you adopt them at a very young age. Sweet P. was only six weeks old when she showed up at the cabin in Lake Tahoe, but even after a year, she was still wary of humans. Frankie let Sweet P. decide when she wanted to be petted, and when she did, Frankie stopped everything to oblige. It had been a long time coming, but Sweet P. found a comfortable place on the top of the back of the sofa.

After several minutes of bonding, Frankie decided to give Nina a call and see what she was up to and what ideas she had for the trip. Frankie had been doing a lot of research, and she was excited to share what she learned with her friends.

Frankie began, "I've been reading a ton of travel books. The Amalfi Coast sounds absolutely amazing! All the guidebooks say it is one of the most scenic stretches of coastline in Italy. Villages are built along the sides of steep cliffs, overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. The area is known for ornate villas, lemon groves, and domed churches. The coast is about thirty miles long, and this one twisting highway connects thirteen towns. Of course, there's Amalfi, and you've probably heard of Positano. But there is also Praiano, Conca dei Marini, Atrani, Minori, Maiori, Cetara, and Vietri sul Mare, all along the water. Then up in the hills. there's Ravello, Tramonti, Furore, and Agerola." Frankie was out of breath.

"You should have been a librarian," Nina joked. "What about Sorrento?"

"Sorrento isn't actually on the Amalfi Coast, but it's on the northern part of the peninsula, facing the Bay of Naples. And it's all within an hour."

"You are the best travel agent, honey bunch," Nina said.

"And I made a list of things . . ."

"Of course you did!" Nina snorted. "Sorry . . . continue, please."

"I know you said you thought Richard might enjoy going to Pompeii, although I don't know how enjoyable looking at ruins from a volcano could be, but hey, that's why there's chocolate and vanilla ice cream. Anywho, I wrote that down, as well as a mozzarella tour, and pizza tour."

"Are we going to have enough time to fit everything in?" Nina asked.

"That's why I make lists, honey pie," Frankie chuckled. "I figure I'll run all of this past Giovanni and see what he suggests. He also wants us to watch the sunset from the hillside. Not sure if that's part of the New Year's plan. We haven't gotten that far yet. I'm still trying to figure out what to get his mother and Aunt Lucia for Christmas."

"I do not envy you with that task," Nina noted.

"What did you get Richard's mother your first Christmas together?"

"A scarf from Saks. Who doesn't like to open a box from Saks, or Bloomie's? Too bad Bendel's closed. They used to have the coolest stuff."

"Yeah. But something from Saks would be nice, even though she lived here for twenty years. I'm sure she went there once or twice, ya think? Maybe?"

"The few times I saw her, she was always beautifully dressed."

"Yeah, but remember, she was also a seamstress."

"Good point. I'm still voting for a scarf from Saks," Nina added. "At least for Aunt Lucia."

"She covers herself in black. Head to toe, including some downright ugly shoes."

Nina laughed.

"Or maybe a pair of leather gloves," Frankie mused.

"That's too generic," Nina countered.

"Maybe."

"What about a shawl for Aunt Lucia? I'm sure you can find a black one!"

"That's a great idea! I'll run it past Giovanni. By the time I finish grilling him, he may be sorry he suggested this trip," Frankie laughed.

"I am sure he is enjoying every minute of the planning."

"I'm sure you're right," Frankie added. "Okay, so recap your plans for me."

"I'm waiting to hear back from Jordan. Ideally, I would fly to Milan on the twenty-sixth, spend two days with Jordan, and then take the train on the twenty-eighth. Its ETA into Naples is around six o'clock. Richard is going to meet me there. We'll spend the night and then go to Pompeii the next day and meet up with you late afternoon, early evening of the twenty-ninth."

"Oh, goodie. I'm glad you and Richard are going to Pompeii. That was a day trip I really didn't want to do. Creeps me out too much," Frankie said.

"Me too, but I figured if Richard was game to follow us to Italy, the least I could do was accommodate his one request," Nina chuckled.

"Atta girl!" Frankie chirped. "So, I'm going over the ferry schedule from Salerno to Capri, and it looks like they only run from April to October. We could catch a ferry from Naples. Let me put on my thinking cap. We're flying out from Naples, so maybe we can go the day before and spend the last night in Naples."

"That could work. Heck, I have no idea what the rest of the trip is going to be like, so just count me in whatever you decide," Nina said cheerfully.

"I'll work on it." Frankie scribbled a few more notes on her white file cards.

"What are you planning on packing?" Nina asked.

"The weather is in the upper fifties, so a few sweaters, boots, jackets, and a couple of nice outfits for church and New Year's."

"I guess I'll have to do a little shopping. My granny skirts may not be ideal for walking around cliffs and all."

"Honey, that is why I wear leggings, low-heel high-shaft boots, and tunic sweaters. Throw on a pair of earrings, and you're good to go!"

"Excellent advice. Ya know, doing a podcast does not require any sort of dress code, so my attire has been, shall we say, casual?"

"As in wearing your pajamas all day?" Frankie teased.

"I'll have you know I wear a hoodie with my pajama bottoms!" Nina howled. "And my signature bandana."

"Naturally. We wouldn't recognize you without it," Frankie chuckled. "I gotta get going. Giovanni will be home soon, and I want to run a few scenarios past him. Gotta get my lists together." She chortled.

"You go, girl! I am really looking forward to this. I haven't seen Jordan in years, and I am delighted we'll be in Campania to ring in the new year. Hey, I heard they shoot confetti popper cannons all over. Is that true?"

"There's a whole list of things that happen."

"You and your lists!" Nina joked.

"Ha. I don't mean my lists, but I shall make one, because there are some things we need to be prepared for."

"Like what?" Nina asked.

"Like, make sure you bring a pair of red underwear. So, when you go shopping, put that on your list!"

"Seriously? Red underwear? Why?" Nina groaned.

"It doesn't have to be a thong, honey pie. Any red pair will do. I think. The list wasn't that specific, just that wearing red underwear on New Year's Eve will bring you good luck."

"Red undies, here I come!" Nina laughed. "Okay, toots, I shall let you get back to your lists. We should probably Zoom everyone in at some point."

"Yes. As soon as I run my lists past Giovanni."

"Okay, girlfriend. Talk soon. Love ya!"

"Love ya back!" Frankie smiled and ended the call.

Frankie looked down at the rug she was sitting on. Almost a dozen file cards were strewn about. Bandit sauntered in, stretched, yawned, and looked down at the mess of notes on the floor. Frankie could have sworn he shook his head. Sweet P. hadn't moved from her perch.