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“I kept telling Dan we were using the wrong color,” he said in his charming Southern
drawl. “After all, you couldn't have been more specific about the color you wanted.”
He didn't seem overly fond of Daniel, which in itself suggested that he was a man of
discernment. And then he had offered to repaint everything for half price. We were sorely
tempted. But alas we couldn't afford it.
A few weeks later I was out shopping with Jane when we ran into a clean-cut, red-
headed guy who turned out to be Roger. He apologized again for the color screw-up. I liked
him.
Now, several years later, I wanted to invite him to our party but had long since lost his
number and had no idea how to reach him. Neither did Jane. But Michael seemed to re-
member Roger mentioning that his wife worked at the desk of the Puerto Real Inn.
We stopped by the next afternoon, but it was her day off. We asked the guy on duty to
have her call us. She didn't call, so we stopped by again a couple of days later only to learn
that the fellow at the desk had lost
our
number. All he'd told her was that two guys had
stopped by looking for her, which had made her uneasy.
“We just want to invite you and Roger to a party,” we assured her.
“Oh my God,” she said with visible relief. “That sounds great.”
Bingo.
One down.
Fifty to go.
☼ ☼ ☼
It rained the day of our party.
The entire week before had been sun-drenched. Sun-blasted. It had been so sunny our
sunglasses had begged for mercy. And now it was raining.
The day of our party!
I couldn't help taking it personally.
Michael advised patience. Normally I would have taken his advice and played a few
hands of Solitaire (known originally, and perhaps not coincidentally, as Patience) to while
away the moist hours.
Unfortunately my concentration was shot.
“As you know,” Michael reminded me helpfully, “three different weather fronts could
move through before six-thirty.”
And of course he was right. But I still felt panicky. Yes, I knew I wouldn't expire if it
was raining at party time. The planet would keep on spinning. Teenagers around the world
would still say “like” (or their native tongue's equivalent) at least once every thirty seconds.
And yet, all things considered, I would have preferred a gorgeous orb of light gliding
slowly across the horizon and dipping regally into the ocean around eight o'clock.
So much more picturesque.
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