My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
41
“Harriman,” Jiggs said on my videophone, “I’m not
sure you should have let him drive that wreck to what’s that town called,
Manillo?”
“Marenello, And you know as well as I do, that
there’s no ‘telling’ Lee anything if he has his mind set on something else.
He’ll be okay, it’s just a short drive.”
“Then why hasn’t he called you yet?”
“I’ll admit he should have by now.”
“And why are you still hanging around in European waters? Ozno’s
no longer a threat. And Italy sure doesn’t need your help anymore, in fact they
barely needed it at all.”
“Aftershocks are still a possibility.”
“It was a minor quake, with minor damage, aside from
a few medieval buildings and those ancient towers. You’re hanging around
because of Crane.”
“What if I am? My boat. My decision. And for the
umpteenth time, it’s Nelson-Crane!”
“Don’t get your shorts in a twist. Crane’s still
part of his name, isn’t it.”
“Commander Jackson on the phone sir,” Sparks called
over the PA. “Line two.”
“Thank you,” I replied and picked up the receiver
while Jiggs could only listen in to the one sided conversation watching me speak
on the phone.
“About time you boys called….the Locanda La Gazzella? Right. Oh he did,
did he? Well, I’m glad you talked him out of the farmhouse bed and breakfast. Wouldn’t
want him milking any more cows. Well, where is he and why are you so late calling? Hit
a what? And a flat? Just what were you doing on a back road? I see. Your fault?
Lee was concentrating on keeping the
car from bumping into any more rocks or potholes? Damn it, Joseph, he was in
the area before, how the hell could he get lost? I’m not shouting! I want to
talk to Lee…I don’t care if he’s still scraping the mud and blood off the tire!”
“ Blood? What blood?” Jiggs interrupted.
“That’s what I want to know! What? Oh,
Jiggs is on the videophone. Now, how was Lee injured changing a tire…the jack
slipped and scraped the skin off his hand?” I said, incredulous. “Has he seen a
doctor? Well, you make sure he does. The factory is bound to have their own
first aid station and nurse or something...well, have you boys had something to
eat yet? No, I don’t think the hotel's vending machines will do. All right
then, room service...they don't have it? Listen, Joe, Lee’s
car looked like a write off to me. God only knows how much it’s going to cost
him to fix. You tell him that if they need too much money, he can use
my AMEX credit card...no, it’s not maxed out! And...what the hell is that
noise? Heavens, what else on that car needs to be fixed? That horn sounds like
an elephant! Yes, I can tell Lee’s getting impatient. Some decent hotel
indeed, if you can hear that noise through the walls...yes, I realize you have
to get to the factory, just...just let Lee know I’m glad you both made it to Marinello
safely, and to call the minute you get back to the hotel. And...” I paused, finding it
was hard to say with Jiggs listening in, “tell him I love him. Yes. All right,
Joe. Goodbye.”
With that I hung up the receiver.
Jiggs was smirking and shaking his head
when I returned my attention to the videophone. “You know, Harry, anyone listening in
would think you’re a little paranoid.”
“I have a right to be.”
“Just don’t smother him with your
anxiety. And if memory serves, you did max out your credit card. Remember the
Four Seasons?”
“That was an administrative error made
by the bank.”
“Well, it certainly was embarrassing at
the time having the waiter return to our table with the manager. At least I had
some cash on me. I’m surprised you told Lee or Joe about it.”
“Must have slipped out somehow.”
Just then Cookie knocked on my half
open door.
“Excuse me sir, but I’m trying to think
of what to fix for dinner tonight. Kind of a toss up between Ravioli or
Lasagna. Thing is, the Ravioli would be the canned kind, but Lasagna would be
from scratch. I know the guys would kinda’ like the home-style stuff, but the
skipper sure likes the canned Ravioli with the picture of that chef on it....”
“Well,” Jiggs said, “I know you’re
trying to prepare meals with Captain Nelson-Crane’s trip in mind. I doubt
anyone in Italy uses canned Ravioli, especially not American Ravioli.”
“Yeah, but the skip...”
“I think you’ve already made up your
mind, Cookie,” I said.
“You’re okay with it then? The canned
stuff? We got enough and I was thinking of making Garlic Toast to go with it.”
“Sounds fine to me,” I said.
“As long as it’s okay with you, then I
won’t worry that Mr. Morton’s not too fond of the idea...”
“Ah...”I interrupted, “perhaps
then....”
“No, I’ve made up my mind. This is as
much to relate to the skipper’s trip as it is to him...thank you for your time
sir. You too, Admiral Starke.”
Jiggs and I conferred over a few more
things, like our pet choices on who might win the latest NFL football draft,
and the latest political mistakes the brass in Washington were making before we
finally called an end to our conversation.
I can’t help but
to almost continually glance at my watch
as the minutes and hours tick by. It’s almost dinner time now and the boys
still haven’t called back. I keep wondering if the factory nurse patched Lee up while
they determined what could be done about his car. I know Lee would prefer
repairs, but frankly, I think he’d do better to just buy a new car to replace
it. Of course, even as my business partner, it’s not as if he has that kind of
money to buy a replacement after he just bought this one. And I doubt his auto
insurance will cover an Act of God as far as the garage falling on top of it during an earthquake!
I’ve seen the Lamborghini costs online.
He wasn’t kidding about hocking his future retirement. That’s one expensive
automobile!
I can only hope they can repair it
without him going into debt for the rest of his life.
Oh get a grip, Harriman. He wouldn’t
have bought the damn thing if he knew he couldn’t afford it somehow.
There are other things I can force
myself to think about now. Like the canned Ravioli I’ll be having in a few
minutes. Poor Chip.
