Every Boy's Got One

Travel Diary of Jane Harris

Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

Oh my God, Peter and his grandmother have OUTDONE themselves. They are the sweetest people EVER. We woke up this morning to the smell of fresh coffee, and we went downstairs to find the dining table practically sinking under the weight of all the pastries, fresh fruit, breakfast meats, and fluffy scrambled eggs piled onto it.

Plus someone (Peter swears it wasn’t him) decorated the front gate with wildflowers from the horse pasture and two pairs of blue socks (still not sure about the significance of this). Apparently, wearing blue socks on your wedding day is important for good luck in this community. However, since Holly’s wedding dress is above the knee, I’m afraid this won’t do at all.

Speaking of whom, the bride is still glowing. You can’t even tell she spent all day yesterday with her head in a toilet. She just looks pretty and happy and… well, like a bride!

Even Mark is glowing… I mean, if you can say that about a man. There is a bounce in his step that I haven’t ever seen before, and he can’t seem to stop smiling. He was too nervous to eat—it was so sweet! He keeps looking at his watch and going, “Shouldn’t we start getting ready? We don’t want to be late. The mayor has that football game to coach.”

Cal’s the only one who wasn’t downstairs on the stroke of seven, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He finally showed up a little before eight—from OUTSIDE. Apparently, he’d taken the car and gone somewhere.

But when Mark asked him where he’d been, he went, “To get the paper,” and slapped a Herald Tribune down on the table.

Yeah. Nice job, Cal. Way to help out your friend on his wedding day. Get him the paper.

Who cares about him, anyway? Um, not me.

Now Holly and Mark are getting ready. I am on call in case Holly has a hair emergency, but I can already tell that she won’t. Her hair is doing exactly what she wants it to. It’s behaving perfectly, exactly the way hair SHOULD be on a girl’s wedding day.

I am in charge of the paperwork (already in my bag), camera (ready), and lucky socks (ditto). Peter is in charge of the rings. Cal is in charge of driving. He appears to be taking this with the same kind of stoicism you might expect from a man preparing to step in front of a firing squad. How flattering to Holly that her husband-to-be’s best friend apparently equates his marrying her to being shot.

Whatever. I’m not going to let that freak spoil the day. This is what we came here for, and everything is going so well: There isn’t a cloud in the sky; Holly looks prettier than I’ve ever seen her; Mark is being the perfect nervous bridegroom; and someone else even made breakfast.

I bet there are a lot of brides who’d gladly sacrifice having their families attend their wedding in exchange for just ONE of the above.

Ooooh, we’re leaving—