In the Bag Part 5

I couldn't help it. I called Daisy again that=night after we got back from dinner.= "I realize I'm violating every rule of=courts.h.i.+p known to man by calling you a=second time today, but I have to read you=the review of the show in today's El Pais,"=I began.= "I'm dying to hear it," she said.= I could hear some commotion in the=background. ="Am =I =interrupting=something?" I asked.= "No, no," she said. "I'm just making=dinner."= "I can call back later."= "No need," she said. "I can cook and=talk. Read me the review, please."= "Okay," I said, then cleared my throat=dramatically. "Love in the Postdigital Ageopened last night at the Crystal Palace in=Retiro Park-"= "Wait," she interrupted. "Why is this=review =written =in =English =if =it's =in =a=Spanish newspaper?"= "I had it translated by someone here at=the hotel," I said. "May I continue?"= "Please do."= I cleared my throat again. "The exhibit,=intended =to =showcase =how =modern=technology has changed the art of romance,=does so through an array of interactive=artwork that employs =late twentieth- and=early =twenty-first-century =gadgetry.=Farewell =to =love =letters =inked =on=parchment =paper. =h.e.l.lo, =love =text=messages, =e-mails, =and =cell =phone=serenades. In all, more than a hundred=computer monitors-many modeled to look=like human faces-combine to demonstrate=how technology is reshaping the concept of=love. Among the highlights of the show is=Spin the Cell Phone, an interactive piece=by Canadian artist/gamer Tad Nordent who=invites viewers to 'play' his exhibit much=as young lovers now play the dating field.=Also =of =note =is p.o.r.nOgraphy by Juan=Tomas Alvarez, which juxtaposes images=of =the =artist's =life =partner =alongside=p.o.r.nographic pictures of unknown women=that attempt, through clever digital effects,=to erode the image of the beloved."= I heard something crash on the other end=of the line. "Are you still there?" I asked.= "Sorry," Daisy said. "I dropped a pan.=But =I'm =glad =someone =explained =that=p.o.r.nography thing to me. I didn't get it.=Keep reading, please."= "Okay, I'm going to skim some of this,=including =the =bit =about =the ='impressive= exhibit design.' "= "No, read it," she insisted.= "No, no. This is the part I want you to=hear. ='Underscoring the theme of love's=altered =state =in =our =postmodern =world=were the trays of warm cookies and b.u.t.tery=tarts served to guests, who couldn't help=but feel-' "= "You're =making =this =up," =she =said,=giggling.= "I'm =not," =I =reported. ="Listen. ='One=couldn't help but feel a certain wistfulness=for a simpler age when people had time to=bake, and when romance could begin with=something as humble as paper, pen, and a=postage stamp. A postage what?' "= "Is that really what it says?"= "I never lie about reviews," I a.s.sured=her. "And something else. Remember those=protesters we saw when we were leaving=the park?"= "Yeah. What was that about?"= "Listen to this," I said. "It's a sidebar to=the story. 'Cinco por Cinco, a small but=increasingly =visible =group =of =Amish=extremists-"= "Amish =extremists? =Isn't =that =a=contradiction in terms?"= "I'm not so sure," I said. "We have lots=of =Amish =in =Missouri. =They're =pretty=extreme. No electricity. No insurance. No=marrying =or =socializing =outside =their=community."= "Different strokes for different folks,"=she said. "Keep reading."= "Cinco =por =Cinco, =a =small =but=increasingly =visible =group =of =Amish=extremists, has vowed to demonstrate in=front of Retiro Park while the exhibit is in=place. The members of Cinco por Cinco=believe the Internet is Satan's toy and that=it represents the single biggest threat to=faithful love. The stated goal of the group=is =to =rid =the =world =of =electronic=communication, =beginning =with =the=Internet, and return to a simpler predigital=era, where hands were used to sew, quilt,=cook, =farm, =and =pray. =The =group =has=threatened to use low-tech terrorist means=to =achieve =their =goals. =Until =then, =the=members =vow =to =fast =on =water =and=uncooked rolled oats."= "Oh, =for =G.o.d's =sake," =she =said.="They're freaks. It's a cult, isn't it? Full of=people who can't think for themselves and=-"= She =paused. =I =knew =she =was=remembering my sister.= "It's okay," I said. "I just thought you'd=be interested to hear that."= "Yes, thank you. So how are you?"= "Fine. Did you get any sleep today?" I=asked.= "A little on the plane," she said. "My=daughter was in one of her moods. So we=spent the day at the Louvre. At least we=wouldn't have to talk to each other." She=laughed. "See what a great parent I am?"= "I forced my son to drink a beer at=dinner tonight," I admitted. "And it was the=worst beer I've ever had in my =life. It=tasted like dirty socks."= She =laughed =harder. =I =could =hear=whatever she was cooking sizzling in the=pan. I wished I were right there. I wished=we were face-to-face.= "There should be awards for parents=like us," she said. "I mean, really. Leaving=a sick child alone in a foreign country?=Some mama grizzly I am."= "Well, I =lost my son for most of the=day," I confessed. "I had no idea where he=was. For hours."= "Do you realize," she replied, "that our=children are the ones who'll decide what=nursing homes we go to? They'll be our=caregivers. Our guardians. How terrifying=is that?"= "Very. Would it be annoying if I called=you again tomorrow?" I asked.= "Terribly annoying," she said.= "Hmm. I just might have to risk it."= "You better," she said.= "I'm =glad =you =gave =me =your =phone=number."= I was saying anything just to keep her on=the line. It had been years since I'd felt like=this. I needed to hear her voice to believe=she was real.= "I'm glad you asked," she said softly.=Then her voice rose. "Oh, wait! I have to=tell you something funny. That line in the=review =about =romance =beginning =with=something as humble as paper and pen?=Get this. On the flight from Chicago, some=creep wrote me a secret admirer note and=stuck it in my purse when I wasn't looking.=How =do =you =like that? And here's the=kicker. The guy was traveling with his=wife or girlfriend."=

CHAPTER 48"Daisy".

I =was =too =critical. =I =could =hear =it =in=Andrew's voice.= "How =do =you =know =the =guy =was=married?" he asked. "Or that he had a=girlfriend?"= "I forget," I said, immediately regretting=having =told =him. ="It =was =something =he=wrote =in =the =note =about =not =traveling=alone."= "That =could =mean =a =lot =of =things,"=Andrew said quickly.= Why was he defending the guy? Was itto make the point that I was too quick tocriticize? He didn't know me well enoughto point out my character flaws.

Breathe, =Nancy =would =say. Stop thinking like this. Stop taking itpersonally. Are you angry at him? No.=Your parents? No. Then who are youangry with? n.o.body!= Breathec Solange's cell phone started ringing.= "Oops, I need to go," I said. "Can we=talk another time?"= "Sure," he said. "Good-bye."= I had to dump out the contents of my=purse =to =find =Solange's =cell =phone.="h.e.l.lo?" I said on the fifth chirp.= "h.e.l.lo yourself," Solange said. "Am I=waking you?"= "For =your =information," =I =said, ="I=haven't been to sleep since I saw you."= Solange insisted on hearing a tick-tock=of my entire evening and morning with=Andrew.= "Very nice," she said when I finished.="Can I tell you what Andrew's reputation=is in the small world of European museum= curators?"= "Oh, G.o.d," I moaned. "That bad?"= "He is the nicest man on earth," Solange=stated. "Several years ago when I first=thought about hiring him to design a show=for me, I checked his references. I could=not find one person who had even a so-so=comment =about =him. =Everyone =adores=Andrew-from =board =members =to=executive directors to custodians. He does=excellent =work =and =has =no =ego. =A=masterpiece of a man."= I smiled to myself. I was right. He wasnice.

"So why isn't he married?" I asked.= "I could ask the same of you," Solange=said. ="Maybe =because =you =are =both=workaholics. =Or =single =parents. =Or=because you waste your time on . . . what=was that idiot's name? d.i.c.k?"= "Chuck," I said. "But never mind him.=Does Andrew pick up women at every=show, like he did me?"= "You seemed to enjoy it," Solange said.="But I am not calling to talk about you. Or=Andrew. I am wondering about Coco. Is=she feeling better?"= "Yes and no," I said. "Physically she's=fine. I think it was just jet lag. But she's in=a mood. Something must be going on back=home. She's down at that Internet place=again right now."= "Let her use my cell phone," Solange=said. "It has Internet capabilities. She can=e-mail her friends from the apartment."= "Are you sure?"= "Of course I am sure. And then take the=phone back to Chicago with you. Save it=for =your =next =trip =here. =Phones =are=inexpensive in Europe. It is not =like the=States. Here we buy cheap phones and then=use phone cards."= As =Solange =spoke, =Coco =was =letting=herself in the apartment.= "Here," I said, handing the phone to=Coco. "Someone wants to say h.e.l.lo."= I watched Coco talk on the phone. Her=eyes =looked =tired. =Sadder. =Older.=Something was definitely bothering her,=but =I =didn't =dare =ask =without =risking=another meltdown.= While =she =talked =to =Solange, =I =lit=candles in the living room and finished=preparing our dinner: ratatouille crepes,=flash-fried spinach, rocket greens salad,=and half a baguette.= "Would you like a small gla.s.s of wine=with dinner?" I asked Coco when she was=off the phone. "There's a bottle in the=fridge that Solange left for us."= "Mom, you know I don't drink."="I know and I'm glad. But since you're=going =off =to =college =in =the =fall =where=students =have =been =known =to =drink, =I=thought you might want a little taste of-"= "I said I don't want any," she snarled.=Her moral smugness felt like a slap in the=face.= "That's fine," I said. I poured myself a=gla.s.s of wine, ate my dinner, and thought=about Andrew.= He called for the third time at almost=midnight. I took the phone back to the=bedroom with me.= "I know it's the height of rudeness to=call this late," he said. "But I have to tell=you something, and you're going to think=I'm a complete idiot when you hear this."= Oh G.o.d, here it comes. He's married.Or he's seeing someone else. Or he's gay.Or he has herpes.

"Go on," I said, closing the bedroom=door and bracing for the worst. My chest=was already tight. I felt a familiar anger=rise up inside me.= "You =know =when =we =were =talking=earlier?" he said.= "Uh-huh." I put my free hand on my heart=to remind it to keep beating.= He paused. I could hear him breathing=heavily. ="About =romance =and =. =. =.=handwritten love notes and . . ." He paused=again.= "Yes?" I said crisply. I hated my tone,=but I could feel myself pulling away from=him just by the hint of what was coming. I=was an expert at walking away from things.=People. Jobs. From any situation, really. I=was already leaving him in my mind.= "Um, well, I wanted to, er, explain . . ."=He was stumbling.= "Look," I said, forcing myself to fake a=smile so I didn't sound as angry as I felt.="We don't have to do this. It was great=meeting =you =and =spending =the =evening=together, but it doesn't have to be anything=more than that." I manufactured a light=laugh. "You don't have to break up with=me, for G.o.d's sake. We were never even=together."= "No," he said. "Wait. Stop. I'm terrible=at this."= "Then just tell me what's on your mind,"=I snapped. "Top of mind, as the therapists=say."= "Okay =then," =he =said =softly. ="You.=You're on my mind. That's what I wanted=to tell you."= "Seriously?" =I =felt =my =whole =body=relax.= "Yes," =he =said. ="And =not =only =that,=you're gentle on my mind, too. Wait-is=that too corny to say?"= "No." I couldn't help smiling, and this=time it was real. My chest muscles relaxed.="So do you have to pay Jimmy Webb a=royalty every time you filch one of his=lines?"= Now it was his turn to laugh. "That's a= John Hartford song. And he's dead."="Oh," I said. "Too bad."="He was a St. Louis boy," he said. "If= ever you come to town, I'll show you=Hartford's star on the St. Louis Walk of=Fame."= "Maybe I'll do that sometime."="I hope you will," he said. "Good night,= Daisy."="Good night, Andrew."=

Day 5: Thursday"

CHAPTER 49"Webb".

I slept till noon. I thought Dad would be=p.i.s.sed, but he wasn't.= "Hey, buddy," he said when I found him=downstairs in the hotel restaurant. He was=drinking =coffee =and =reading =the=International Herald Tribune. ="Sleep=okay?"= "Yeah," I said.= "Great," he answered, folding the paper.="Do you want to get something to eat here,=or shall we get out in the real world?"= "I don't care."= "You don't care?" he asked. He was=smiling with his mouth, but frowning with=his eyebrows. "You have to care. That's=your job in life: to care about something.=Or someone. That's even better."= He was sure in a banner mood.= "Let's walk over to the Plaza Mayor,"=Dad said.= "Okay."= "And then we'll hit the =Prado," =Dad=continued. "I'd like to see the Velazquez=paintings. =And =you =like =the =ones =by=Hieronymus Bosch, remember?"= "Yeah," I said.= "And then I thought, if you still wanted=to, =we =could =take =another =look =at =the=postdigital show together," Dad said. "I'd=really like to hear your thoughts on the=exhibit, =especially =the =gaming=installations."= Gaming installations? What the h.e.l.lwas he talking about?

"Okay," I said, nodding.= "And then," Dad said, standing up from=the table, "we'll find a great place to have=dinner. =Maybe =hear =some =music? =That=sound okay to you?"= "Sure," I said. Fine. Whatever. I didn't=care one way or the other what we did.= "This'll be great," Dad said. "So why=don't you make a stop at the business=center before we head out for the day, and=then we'll-"= "Not necessary," I said.= Dad =looked at me =like I'd sprouted a=second head. "What's wrong?"= "Nothing," I said with the certainty that=comes =with =defeat. ="There's =just =. =. =.=nothing there for me."=

CHAPTER 50"Coco".

Mom decided we should spend Thursday=afternoon at the Rodin Museum.= "You'll love this place," she told me,=all jolly and smiley, as we walked to the= Metro. "It's in a lovely old mansion where=lots of nineteenth- and twentieth-century=artists rented s.p.a.ce to live and work."= Who cared? Not me. I couldn't wait to=get back to Chicago. The trip had been=such a disaster. It was actually my worst=vacation ever.= I studied the people on the Metro. Two=college-age girls in scarves were talking=and laughing about something. Annoying. A=woman was holding hands with a young=boy who had green snot dripping from his=nose. Disgusting. =A =couple =of=professional-looking =men =were =on =their=way =to =work. =One =guy =seemed =to =be=checking out Mom. One hundred percentgross!

I hated =Paris. The smug people. The=fussy food. The stinky Metro with its B.O.-=y smells. And once we got to the Rodin= Museum, I hated that, too.="You'll enjoy this," Mom said, handing=me a study guide to all the sculptures.= Well, I didn't. And for the record, the=sculpture =I =hated =most =was =called TheKiss. It was a marble sculpture of a naked=man and woman right as they're about to=kiss. I didn't hate it because it made me=think about Webb. We really didn't kiss at=all, other than the two little cheek pecks he=gave me when we met at the train station.=Those weren't real kisses. It was just a=corny greeting. And he didn't kiss me onceafter that. So basically his desire for me=evaporated, beginning the moment we met=face-to-face.= The more I stared at The Kiss, the more=I thought about Webb. The guy in Rodin's=sculpture is totally zoned out, like he's=about to kiss the woman, but he doesn't=want to. He'd rather be reading his book. I=hated The Kiss and people who kissed and=everything about kissing.= I even hated Rodin. I couldn't believe=the museum included sculptures by Camille=Claudel. =She =was =Rodin's =student =and=mistress, which just goes to prove that=pervy teachers have been around forever.=Actually, her work was pretty good. But=Rodin apparently dumped her when she=started going crazy. Her family eventually=committed her to an insane asylum where=she lived for decades before dying alone.=Quelle charming.= The =only =thing =I =liked =in =the =whole=museum was a sculpture I found outside in=the garden. It was called Balzac and was=this =huge =creepy =sculpture =of =some=famously cranky writer I'd never heard of.=According =to =the =guide, =when =Rodin=unveiled the sculpture in 1898, Parisians=booed it. But I liked it. I especially liked=Balzac's sinister-looking Dracula cape and=his =crazy =I-don't-give-a-rat's-a.s.s-what-=people-think-of-me expression. He looked=like how I felt.= I sat in the gra.s.s staring at Mr. Balzac=and wondering how long it'd be before my=mom =tried =to =commit =me =to =an =insane=asylum. It would be completely typical of=her, but also completely unfair. At =least=Camille Claudel got to have s.e.x before she=went to the loony bin and died.= Dr. Guillotin was right. A sharp blade to=the neck could be an act of mercy.=

CHAPTER 51"Andrew".

Webb and I were back at the Crystal=Palace when I felt my BlackBerry vibrate.= "I'm going to take this outside," I told=Webb. "I'll meet you back in here."= "Okay," he said neutrally. He seemed=bored by the show. Maybe seeing it once=had been enough. I couldn't disagree with=him.= The call was from Solange.= "If you're going to tell me there's a=problem with the exhibit," I said, "I won't=believe you because I'm here now, and=everything's perfect."= "Of =course =it =is =perfect," =she =said.="Thanks =to =you. =I =am =calling =about=something =else. =Something =more=important." She sounded serious. "Daisy."= I =stopped =breathing. ="Is =something=wrong?"= "Wrong?" she said. "Just the opposite.=You two are more right for each other than=any couple I've ever seen in my life."= I exhaled. "She seems great."= "No, Andrew," Solange corrected. "She=does =not seem great. She is great. Have=you Googled her? =Do you know what a=star =she =is =in =Chicago? =Wherever =she=works becomes the hottest restaurant in the=city. =She =has =the =golden =touch. =She =is=incredible. Do you know how incredible=she is?"= "I'm learning," I said.= "Listen =to =me," =Solange =pressed =on.="Daisy has not shown this much interest in=a man for years. I do not know what you=said or did to her, and I do not want to=know. But whatever it is, she is interested.=And =if =you =are =interested-which =you=would have to be crazy not to be-you=must act quickly. She rarely takes time off=work. But she left her job last week and=-"= "Yes, she told me about that-" I started=to say.= "What she did not tell you is that she=will =have =offers =from =ten =restaurants=waiting for her when she gets back to=Chicago. And then she will throw herself=into a new job, and work eighty hours a=week, and-pouf-you will have missed=your chance."= "Are you saying I should-"= "What =I =am saying," she said, as if=speaking to a child, "is that if you want=her, you must see her before she =leaves=Paris."= "But I think she's leaving Sat.u.r.day. And=I'm in Madrid till then."= "I am not telling you how to do it,"=Solange said impatiently. "I am just telling=you what must be done."= "Yes, boss," I said, smiling. "Hey, I=wanted to ask you about something. =Did=you know there were protesters on opening=night?"= "Don't get me started on that. When I=found out about them, I tried to arrange a=meeting =with =their =leader-Abraham =or= Moses or Ezekiel. I was going to offer to=curate a quilt show for them for free if they=would promise not to make a scene at my=show. I was prepared to create a website,=a Facebook page, some YouTube videos of=their women making quilts. Of course it is=the women who do all the work. This is=always =the =way =in =misogynist=organizations."= "So what happened?"="They would not even speak to me," she=said. "Beasts, all of them. Now, you will=call Daisy, yes?"= "Right. Can you give me any suggestions=on how I should-"= But =the CALL =ENDED =message =told =me=Solange's work was done.=

CHAPTER 52"Daisy".

Coco and I had dinner reservations at=Petrelle, my favorite restaurant in =Paris.=Just walking in the door and seeing those=wide-plank wooden floors and the tables=-ten farm tables covered with starched=white linens and piles of books-made me=happy. If the Rodin Museum couldn't cheer=up Coco, surely Petrelle could.= I ordered for both of us: smoked duck=breast salad followed by ravioli stuffed=with crayfish. As usual, every bite was=perfection: confirmation that cooking was=an art equal to any other. Food was as=important as love. The body needed it. And=the quality of food, like the quality of love,=mattered.= "Coco, look," I said, chewing. "Do you=see the cat under that table? That's what I=love about this place. Don't you feel like=you're eating in your very own French=country house?"= Coco grunted an inaudible response. I=refused to let her rotten mood ruin my=meal.= "Should we pick up some postcards to=send Grammy and Grampa?" I asked. "And=your friends back home?"= "No," she said. "Not postcards. But I=need something =to =take =back =to =my=friends."= "Okay, let's think," I said, happy for any=semblance of a dinner conversation. "We=could get some chocolate and maybe jars=of French sea salt. It's the best salt in the=world. Everyone loves-"= "Mom," Coco growled, "my friends do=not want salt."= "Right," I said.= An hour =later when Coco was eating=dessert and I was sipping an espresso, I=had an idea. "Let's take a walk up to Sacre=Coeur," I said. "The view is absolutely=lovely at night."= "Everything's lovely to you, isn't it?"=Coco said, stabbing her spoon savagely=into a ramekin of flan.= I took a deep breath and counted to five.=Then I reached across the table and put my=hand on hers.= "Coco," =I =said =softly. ="I =know=something's bothering you. And I know=you know that I am always here to listen to=anything you want to talk about. But I can't=read your mind. If you don't want to tell=me what's wrong, that's your decision. But=I won't put up with this att.i.tude of yours.=Not for one minute more."= She attacked another spoonful of flan,=but her mouth began to quiver. I hated to=make her cry. On the other hand, I didn't=hate it enough to back down.= "I =brought =you =here =to =Paris," =I=continued, ="because =I =wanted =you =to=experience this city, this magical city, as=an adult for the first time with someone=who will always love you."= Now her eyes were getting moist. Well?=It was true. I did want her to see Paris as=an adult with me first. I'd stolen the idea=from an article I read in People magazine.=Gwyneth Paltrow's father took her to Paris=when she was young for the very same=reason. Better to fall in love with Paris in=the company of a parent than come here in=a few years and confuse a love of Paris=with =love =for =some =bozo =with =a =s.e.xy=accent. No need for both of us to make that=mistake.= "And you know," I went on, "the crazy=thing about =love is that you can tell the=other person anything in the world, and=they'll love you. No matter what."= Now she was really crying. Something=was =definitely =up. =But =still, =she =said=nothing.= "So," I said, stroking her hand, "is there=something =you =want =to =talk =about? =I=promise I won't get mad." I paused and=smiled. "Or if I do, it won't last forever."= Tears were rolling down her cheeks.="No. There's nothing you can do. I'm just=. . ."= "What?" I asked. "What would make=you happy right now? What could we do=that would make you feel happy?"= She shook her head and cried. "I don't=know what I want. Just . . . nothing."= That's my girl. Like mother, likedaughter.

We took a cab back to the apartment. At=least she =let me put my arm around her=shoulder in the backseat of the car.= "Hey, I know something that'll cheer=you up," I said, pulling Solange's cell=phone from my purse. "Solange lent us this.=You can check your e-mail on it and send=texts or whatever you want to do."= I handed the phone to Coco, but she=pushed it away and buried her head in her=hands.= "I never want to get online again," she=sobbed. "Ever!"= I closed my eyes for the rest of the cab=ride.= The phone was ringing when I unlocked=the apartment. "h.e.l.lo?" I said hopefully.= "Hi, it's me, Andrew."= I =liked =that =he =didn't =a.s.sume =I'd=recognize his voice, even though I did=instantly.= "Hey there," I said, carrying the phone= into the bedroom.="Do you have a minute to =listen to a= crazy idea?" He sounded nervous.="I do," I said.="Okay, here goes. What would you think= about =meeting =in =Barcelona =for =dinner= tomorrow night? With our guardians?"="Our what?" I said.="Our kids. Webb and Coco."=

Day 6: Friday"

Dear Ms. 6BX.

Please forgive my clumsinesswhile boarding. I would be morethan happy to pay for the cleaningor replacement of your blouse. Truthis, I would be even happier if you'dlet me take you to dinner sometimewhen we return to our side of thepond. That is, if you do plan toreturn to the U.S. (For all I know,you could be Parisian. You haveThat Look. )

CHAPTER 53"Webb".

Dad was explaining as he packed.= "It's only an hour flight," he said. "And=it is one of your favorite cities."= He was right. I liked Barcelona a lot. It=was the first European city I ever visited.=Dad took me there when I was seven. It's=where he told me about my mom.= "And as long as we're so close," Dad=went on, "it just makes sense. I don't know=why I didn't think of it before we left=home." He turned to look at me. "So get up=and start packing, okay? Oh, and wear that=nice blue jacket."= "Why?"= "Because I'd like to go somewhere nice=for dinner."= "Okay. Will we have time to do Gaudi=stuff?" I asked.= "Sure. Our flight leaves at one fifty.=We'll be in Barcelona by three."= "Cool."= Maybe this was what I needed to shake=off the Coco dust. I was still stinging from=that whole thing.= "We're meeting a friend of mine for=dinner," Dad added. "She has a daughter=about your age. I think she'll be joining us,=too."= "Serious?"= "Yeah," said Dad. "Is that okay?"= "Yeah," I said. "In fact, that'd be . . .=really cool."= This =was exactly =what =I =needed.=Something-or =better =yet, =someone-to=take my mind off Coco.=

CHAPTER 54"Coco".

Barcelona?" I asked.= Was the universe trying to torture me=with all these reminders of Webb?= "It's =only =an =hour-and-a-half =flight,"= Mom said.="But we're in Paris," I objected. "Why=do you want to keep leaving?"= And then it hit me: Mom was going=through =a =weird =emotional =backdraft. =I=knew the whole story about her falling in=love during culinary school with the master=chef, my dad. Being back here with me=must be churning up all kinds of c.r.a.ppy=memories for her.= "It's not that I want to keep =leaving,"= Mom said, carefully folding her new silk=blouses in her suitcase. "But I thought we=could come back when Solange is around.=Wouldn't it be fun to spend time with her?"= "I guess," I said. "But this place is way=too small for three people."= "It'd =be =fun," =Mom =said. ="Like =a=slumber party."= Yeah, rightc "Maybe we'll come back next year,"= Mom said. "Or for Christmas. Oh, and take=something =nice =to =wear =tonight. =We're=meeting a friend of mine for dinner."= "Fine."= "He might bring his son along," she=added, on her way to the bathroom. "He's=about your age."= "Does he speak English?"="Yes," she answered from the bathroom.="It'll be fun."= Whateverc "I'm going across the street to pick up=some =pastries =for =breakfast," =I =said,=walking out the door. "I'll be back in=five."=

CHAPTER 55"Andrew".

I'd conveniently forgotten to tell =Daisy=where I'd booked our hotel rooms.= "I'm sorry to keep calling," I said when=I called to give her the hotel address.= "No, no. It's not a problem. Are you at=the airport?"= "Not yet. Webb and I are waiting for a=cab."= "I'm still packing," she said. "Coco's=across the street picking up some breakfast=for us."= "Did you tell her-" I began, turning=away from Webb for privacy.= "I just said you had a son about her=age," she said. "What about you?"= "Same here." I couldn't go into much=detail because Webb was standing six feet=away.= "This is =like the grown-up version of=The Parent Trap," she said, laughing.= "I'm not sure what you mean."= "Didn't you ever see The Parent Trapwith Hayley Mills?" she asked. "Or the=remake with Lindsay Lohan? It's the story=of =twin =girls =scheming =to =reunite =their=estranged parents."= "You're =not =suggesting =that =your=daughter and my-"= "No, no. It's just the idea that you think=your son needs to meet a girl like my=daughter, and I think my daughter would=benefit from meeting your son."= "You =and =Solange =have =a =lot =in=common."= She =laughed. "We'll meet you at nine=o'clock at the restaurant you told me about,=okay?"= "More =than =okay," =I =said. ="See =you=soon."= "Bye," she said in a soft voice.= She hung up. I stayed on the line, not= believing my good luck.=

CHAPTER 56"Daisy".

Coco was sitting on the futon, pulling=apart a croissant. She refused to put it on a=plate as I'd asked her to do repeatedly.=Pastry crumbs were falling everywhere.=She was still sulking, but I refused to let it=get under my skin.= "You can leave your bag here," I said.="We'll =put =everything =we =need =in =my=suitcase."= "Whatever," she said, sulkily stuffing=the last third of the croissant in her mouth.= I =counted =to =ten =before =responding.="Honey, why don't you pack your peasant=blouse? You look so cute in that."= "Actually, I don't want to =look cute,"=she said. "Plus it's all wrinkled." She=pulled it out of her bag and made a face. "I=hate wrinkles."= "It's supposed to be wrinkled," I said=firmly. "We can iron it when we get to the=hotel in Barcelona."= She tossed the blouse in my direction. I=caught it and stuffed it in my suitcase next=to the black pants I'd picked out for her at=Galeries Lafayette.= "Do you have your toothbrush?" I asked.="Hair stuff? Makeup?"= She flounced into the bathroom.= Why did everything have to be such astruggle? I was so tired of this. Livingwith a teenage girl was like being sent tothe gulag for seven years.

"Here," she said, handing me her wet=toothbrush while rolling her eyes.= "Thank you," I said, only slightly my=gritting teeth. "Don't you want to take your=hair stuff or lip gloss or-"= "If I wanted to take it, I would've given=it to you. Can we just go already?"=

CHAPTER 57"Webb".

So first you name me after a guy who=writes =dopey =songs. =And =then =for =my=middle name, you pick a guy who lived in=a church? Way to go, Dad."= Dad rubbed my hair. We were exploring=the =Sagrada =Familia, =the =most =famous=church in Barcelona.= "Jimmy Webb wrote brilliant songs,"=Dad said. "You'll appreciate them more=when you get older. As for Antoni Gaudi,=yes, he lived in the Sagrada Familia when=he was working on it."= "So he was basically homeless?"= "He was obsessed with his work," Dad=said.= "And you think that's a good thing, don't=you?"= "I guess I do," Dad admitted. "I admire=artists who fall in love with their work.=There's =something =n.o.ble =about =an=obsession if it leads to something like this.=Webb, look around. The guy was a genius.=An absolute original."= He =had =a =point. =Being =inside =the=candlelit church was =like being inside a=whale-except =that =everywhere =you=looked were scenes embedded in concrete=honeycomb.= We'd spent the =late afternoon visiting=our favorite Gaudi sites: Casa Batllo, Parc=Guell, and the little cottage Gaudi built for=himself within the park. We saved the=Sagrada Familia for last. Dad rarely made=me go to church at home. But places like=this, he said, had spiritual lessons to teach.=Sometimes I almost understood what he=was talking about.= Being in the Sagrada Familia made me=feel absolved of the whole Coco thing. I=felt like maybe I could be forgiven for=lying to Dad about going to Paris. It had=been such a disaster. Wasn't that penance=enough?= Dad and I found a pew in the center of=the church and sat down.= "I think I sorta get what this place is=trying to say," I said, looking up.= "Tell me," he said.= "It's hard to put into words."= We sat in silence. There was a holy=smell in the church. It would've been the=perfect time and place to tell Dad about my=trip to Paris. But I couldn't.= "I'll tell you what this place says to=me," Dad said slowly. "It says, look what=somebody =can =do =when =he's =focused.=When he's not mult.i.tasking."= "Daaad," I groaned. "No =life lessons,=please."= He continued, undeterred. "It says to me,=here's a man who put himself out there and=wasn't afraid to look ridiculous."= I =thought =about =how =ridiculous =I'd=looked with Coco and that whole stinky=cheese saga. Why didn't I just tell her I=didn't like cheese that tastes like puke? Or=I could've said I was allergic to dairy.=Why did I turn into such a sneaky jerk?=Why did I pull the bag out of her hands like=a seventh-grade bully?= Or if life had to offer such unpleasant=moments, why weren't we equipped with=an Undo key? Couldn't someone come up=with an app that let you delete certain=unwanted =acts? =I =didn't =want =to=Ctrl/Alt/Del =meeting =Coco-just =my=dumba.s.s behavior with the d.a.m.n cheese.= Dad was still talking. "When Antoni=Gaudi finally pa.s.sed his school exams, one=of his professors said: 'Who knows if we=have given this diploma to a nut or to a=genius. Time will tell.' "= "Gaudi got the last laugh, huh?" I said.= Dad =turned =to =me =with =a =serious=expression. "I want you to have a pa.s.sion=for something, Webb."= "No pressure, right?"= "None." =He =put =an =arm =around =my=shoulder. "If you wanted to be a janitor,=that would be fine with me, if that's what=turned you on."= I loved Dad and his groovy lingo.= "I don't think I want to be a janitor," I=informed =him. ="I =don't =think =I'm =tidy=enough."= "Okay," Dad said. "You don't have to=know what you want to be. That comes=later. But I want you to want more than just=having a job and muddling through life. I=want you to find a pa.s.sion you believe in=strongly enough to risk humiliation and=rejection."= If Dad only knew the humiliation andrejection I'd found in Paris.

We continued the discussion in the cab=to dinner.= "If you think about it, Jimmy Webb and=Antoni Gaudi have a lot in common," Dad=was saying. "Both were hugely talented=guys who could've taken the easy route,=writing =forgettable =songs =and =designing=adequate buildings that were easy to like.=But they didn't do that."= "Uh-huh."= Dad was on a roll. He went on like this=for the entire cab ride, right until we pulled=up in front of a restaurant.= "They took risks. Webb. I can't tell you=how important it is to take risks in life. To=be bold. Because if you do that-"= I stopped listening. The air felt different.=The night had changed. I felt it as soon as=we stepped out of the cab and onto the=sidewalk. I felt it before I could even see=it. But as soon as my eyes focused, there it=was: the oddly familiar swirl of colors in=front of me, chest high.= The peasant blouse.= Coco.= Oh, G.o.dc

CHAPTER 58"Coco".

Oh, s.h.i.+t!"= "Coco!" Mom hissed, elbowing me in=the ribs. Then she waved to Webb and an=older guy. They were getting out of a cab=together. "Andrew! h.e.l.lo! I want you to=meet my daughter, Coco."= The man shook my hand. "Very nice to=meet you. And I'd like you both to meet=Webb, my son."= He was wearing a navy blue jacket and=jeans. "Hi," he said blankly.= "Hi," I echoed.= Jesus Christ. Was this reallyhappening? No, it was a dream. It had tobe a dream. Life wasn't like this. Butwait, Webb was in color! Everything wasin color. So this was realc "Do you, Coco?" Mom was saying.= "What?" I mumbled.= Why was I wearing these dorky blackpants? I hated them. And I didn't have onany makeup. Argh! I could kill Mom.

"Andrew asked if you were enjoying=Barcelona," Mom said in her be-nice-to-=the-distinguished-old-dude voice.= "Sure," I said. I looked again at Webb to=see if it was really him.= How did he get here? How did Momknow his dad?

"We spent the afternoon at Casa Batllo,"= Mom =was =saying. ="Just =like =you=suggested."="Webb loves that house," the man said.="Don't you, Webb?"="Uh-huh," Webb answered. He wasn't= even looking at me.="Shall we see if our table's ready?" the=man asked. He held the door open for Mom=and me.= "Yes, =let's," =Mom =said, =smiling =and=moving toward the restaurant entrance.= "Yeah," I said, trying to remember how=to put one foot in front of the other.= "What a pretty blouse you're wearing,=Coco," the older guy said as I walked by. I=spun around like a swivel head and looked=at Webb. He was staring at his feet and=grinning wildly.=

CHAPTER 59"Andrew".

I =loved =knowing =that =whatever =else=Coco's =father =was, =he =was =a =genetic=lightweight.= Coco looked exactly like her mother.=The =same =chestnut-colored =hair. =The=identical thin nose. If I ever got to know=this young woman, I would enjoy telling=her that she needn't fear getting older. Her=mother was proof positive of that.= The maitre d' led us to a table and=helped Daisy with her chair. I tried to send=a message with my eyes to Webb that he=could help Coco in the same manner, but it=was pointless. He wasn't even looking at=her. He was staring at the napkins on the=table with a vacant expression on his face.= "I like this place already," Daisy said,=admiring the stone walls. "Mmmmm, smell=that garlic."= "I was nervous choosing a restaurant for=us," I confessed. Then I turned to Webb.="Daisy's a chef in Chicago. And I have it=on good authority that she's the best in=town."= Daisy =smiled =modestly. =She =looked=gorgeous =in =a =cream =silk =blouse. =Silk=blouses were clearly part of her uniform. I=loved that she traveled light. My mind spun=ahead to the trips we might take together.=Rome. Edinburgh. Prague. Tokyo.= "I'm =going =to =need =some =help=translating," Daisy said, opening the menu.="I don't even recognize these words. Is this=Spanish?"= "Catalan," I said. "Webb knows more=than I do. He's been studying it on his own=for a few years. Right, Webb?"= No response.= "And this really is a terrific restaurant,"=I said. "One of our favorites, I'd say,=wouldn't you, Webb?"= Still no response. I felt =like throttling=him.= Try! =Connect! Join the conversation.Pretend these are people you meet on theInternet. Put yourself out there, for G.o.d'ssake!

I ordered a bottle of red wine for Daisy=and me. "The seafood here is delicious," I=said. "Do you like seafood, Coco? I bet=you have a more sophisticated palate than=most of your cla.s.smates."= No response from her, either.= This could be a very long eveningc

CHAPTER 60"Daisy".

Coco," I said, trying to sound nicer than I=felt. "Andrew asked you a question. About=your palate."= "Do what?" she said.= Why is she acting like such a dope?She was usually at her best when she hadan audience. So why isn't she turning iton for Andrew and his completelyadorable son?

"Your palate," I repeated. She knew=what this meant. She just wasn't trying.= Maybe I should've told her this was a date.=For me.="Oh," Coco said. "My palate is . . .= pretty average, I'd say."="I don't know if I agree with that," I=said. "Remember the macaroni and cheese=incident at school?"= "Oh, =yeah," =Coco =said, =her =face=brightening. "I got sent home from school=once because the macaroni and cheese in=the cafeteria made me cry. But it is vile=stuff."= "I agree," I said, studying the menu.= "What's wrong with mac and cheese?"=Webb asked.= I could see Andrew folding into his=chair. "Is that the hideous orange stuff you=make me buy?" he asked.= "I like it," Webb said. "Especially with=scrambled eggs. Dad, you like it, too."= "I, um-" Andrew began. "I'll admit=that in a pinch, I've been known to-"= "Eat a whole box," Webb said, smiling.= I =smiled, =too, =but =Andrew =looked=uncomfortable. =I =needed =to =change =the=subject-quickly. I leaned over to Coco.= "Did you know," I began, "that Webb is=named =after =Jimmy =Webb? =He =was =a=songwriter who-"= "Yeah, =I =know," =Coco =said. ="='Galveston.' ='MacArthur =Park.' ='Wichita=Lineman.' "= "I'm impressed!" Andrew said. "How=do you like that, Webb? And you say kids=your age don't know who Jimmy Webb is."= I turned to Coco. "How do you know all=those old songs?"= She just shrugged.= The wine steward arrived and poured a=taste for Andrew.= "Nice," said Andrew, sipping the wine.=He =turned =to =me. ="Okay, =try =this =one.=Webb's middle name is the last name of a=famous architect."= "Wright?" I asked.= "Wrong," Andrew said.= "Let me think," I said. "Um . . ."= Oh, great. I'm blanking out. All thearchitects in the world and the only one Ican think of is Frank Lloyd Wright.

"It's not Buckminster Fuller, is it?" I= tried.="Nope," Andrew said.="Oh, wait." I laughed. "Sullivan? As in= Louis Sullivan?"="No," said Webb. "But good guess."="Van der Rohe?" I said.="Nope." Andrew was grinning. So was= Webb. I was grateful for the generous pour=from the steward.="Come on, Coco," I said, taking a sip.= "Help me out here."="Is it . . . Gaudi?" she asked.=Andrew clapped his hands and knocked= over the bottle of wine. The blood red=liquid =splashed =all =over =my =new =silk=blouse.= "Dammit!" he said, grabbing his napkin=and aiming for my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I'm so sorry.=Can I help you-"= "It's fine," I said, waving away the stain=with a nonchalance that surprised even me.="Please, don't worry about it."=

CHAPTER 61"Webb".

As =she =stared =at =her =mother, =Coco's=raised eyebrows reminded me that this was=the woman who spent a ton of money on=clothesc I knew instantly what Coco was thinking=because I was thinking it, too. Somethingis up with our parents.

"So how do you guys know each other?"=I asked.= "Yeah, =like what's up with you two?"=Coco added quickly.= "Remember =the =favor =I =did =for=Solange?" Coco's mom said. "Fixing party=food =for =that =museum =gala =in =Madrid?=Andrew was the designer for the exhibit."= Dad turned to me. "Webb, you know the=cookies and gooey b.u.t.ter cake served on=opening night?"= "Yeah?" I said cautiously. Because I=had no idea what he was talking about.= "Daisy made those," =Dad said. "Er, I=should say, Ms. Sprinkle."= "Daisy's fine," Coco's mom said. She=was almost as pretty as her daughter.= The waiter arrived to take our order. I=looked at the menu, but it had morphed into=a Hieronymus Bosch painting filled with=tiny, giddy figures tangled in a human knot.=

CHAPTER 62"Coco".

I could tell Webb was trying to connect=the dots, just like I was. If my mom and his=dad knew each other, did that mean they=also knew about us?= It didn't seem possible. Mom was acting=so nicey nice. She'd be in flames if she=knew I'd lied to her about being sick to get=out of going to Madrid.= Then again, she did seem to be prodding=me lately to fess up to something.= I looked at her more closely. She was=staring at Webb's dad. She was laughing=and batting her eyelashes =like a cartoon=character.= That's when it hit me: Was this old guy=my father? I nearly choked on my water.= "Honey, are you okay?" Mom asked.="Yeah," I said. "Fine."=I'd always a.s.sumed my dad was French.= But maybe he was American. Why couldn't=a master chef working in =Paris nineteen=years ago have been an American?= I took a breath. "So exactly how long=have you two known each other?"=Webb's dad looked at Mom and smiled.= My heart sank. And then it fluttered.= Wait a minute. If Webb knew his dad=was also my dad, that would explain why=he hadn't wanted to have tantric s.e.x with=me. I was his sister!= Oh. My. G.o.d! This was like a weird-a.s.s=European edition of The Parent Trap!="We met on Tuesday night," Mom said.= s.h.i.+tc