“Wel you should be. I know al that higher education wil take up a lot of time, but surely you can spare a few nights over the next year. Think about it—they wil al have accents!”
“Okay I wil think about it.” Libby had no intention of doing any such thinking, but this was the best way to deal with her best friend when pressed for time.
Libby and Mel hugged tightly. And Libby set off with the mob of people headed for metal detectors.
Glad things are going well. You should mail me some Italian style chocolate chip cookies!
Only 5 weeks left until Thrills is released. I am so stoked. You won’t be able to buy it in Italy, but I will mail you a copy.
-t-
I preordered my English copies on Amazon last month! But maybe you could mail me one anyway—
signed. And when I am old I can sell my first edition signed Marchetti for eight million dollars.
Rome is beautiful. The school arranged for a lot of tours when we first got here, but now that I am making friends I am seeing all the local stuff too.
-L-
Dear Libby,
I never know what to say in these things! Miss you Lib! So does John. How is the Italian man hunt coming?
Love, Mel
Dear Mel,
So far the well is still dry
Love, Libby
When Libby got Tony’s package in the mail, she tore it open right in the elevator of her building. She couldn’t wait. Inside she found two copies of Thrills, by the up and coming author Anthony Marchetti. When she opened the first book she found Tony’s familiar but messy handwriting inside the cover.
Thanks for never doubting me! Love, Anthony Marchetti
I just got your package! The book is perfect! Not that I thought it wouldn’t be, but it is. I passed a copy (not the one you signed that I am saving to fund my retirement) around my friends. One girl complained she wouldn’t sleep for a month. High praise.
-l-
Ps: is it weird that I want to tell you I’m proud of you?
She didn’t go home for Christmas. She went sking with a group from the university. She missed her family, and her friends. But she loved Rome, and her new friends. A feeling deep in her bones told her that she needed this time.
She needed her European adventure even if wasn’t going to be hot and steamy.
Dear Libby,
I’m glad skiing was great. And thanks for the bolt of Italian leather! I can’t tell you how excited my distributer is about Italian leather belts and wallets.
Merry Christmas, Mel
Dear Mel,
Here it is just leather! Glad you liked it.
Love, Libby
I signed the deal today on Isaac Raines. And they are ordering a second run of Thrils .
I am thinking of relocating. What would you think of me moving back to Lindstown?
-t-
Dear Libby,
I can’t wait for you to come home. How is the fling coming—any prospects?
I don’t think it is serious, but Tony brought a girl to Easter dinner. Just so you know.
Love, Mel
Libby didn’t cry. She wanted to, but the urge to sob wasn’t as strong as she thought it should have been.
So instead of crying she went to a party. Conjuring Mel’s fashion advice from her memory, Libby dressed with purpose. Her red dress molded to her body until it flared at her waist. Spinning in front of her mirror Libby admired the way the material moved with her body, and lifted teasingly with a wiggle of her hips. Strappy black heals and a ful-on makeup application completed her look.
Lena, an Italian friend of Libby’s from the culinary institute, had invited her to the party. Originaly she had declined thinking she would be out of place as the only tourist there, but staying home with her textbooks wasn’t a good idea. In the cab, on her way to the club, Libby had second, third, and fourth, thoughts. A part of her was afraid that when the shock of Mel’s news wore off depression would settle in. Of al the ways that evening could end, a teary public meltdown was Libby’s least favorite scenario.
Less than a year in Italy had given her enough Italian to order a meal, go shopping, and ask for a restroom. That was not enough to survive an evening at a local party. It was likely that most of these dancing, drinking, laughing people spoke better English than Libby, but she loathed being the ignorant American. Lena introduced her around, but soon Libby found herself sitting at the bar sipping her wine, and wondering if she could politely cal herself a cab. She had come to the conclusion that having a fling was better in theory than in practice.
“Balare?”
Libby turned to find a man tal dark and gorgeous enough to satisfy Mel’s fling requirements. He was probably too old to be a student. Although there was a wide range of ages attending the culinary institute, so she couldn’t be sure. His dress shirt was roled up past his elbows, and unbuttoned at the colar in deference to the heat of the room. A spray of chest air showed through the opening of his shirt. And that solve an age old debate between Libby, and Mel: chest hair or no chest hair. Chest hair was unquestionably sexy.