Mac left his bride sleeping in their bed, as he went out for his morning run, down the Promenade des Anglais. The sun was rising over the mountains to the east, its rays playing light games with the rippling waves of the Mediterranean. The huge palm trees lining the median between the east and west Promenade, stood like staunch witnesses as to the change of the grand city by the sea. The war had brought refugees from all over Europe, notably wealthy Jews, and other persecuted strangers, fleeing the Nazi blitzkrieg of Eastern Europe. However, as the Vichy government was established in the summer of 1940, anti-Semitism accelerated an exodus from Nice as well, which was well underway by October of 1941. Mac saw Italian troops everywhere, with their rifles slung across their shoulders, as he ran along the sea wall, not to mention a smattering of German military personnel on hand unofficially, vacationing with loved ones. The vacuum created by the Jewish exodus had been filled by uniforms of every Fascist flavor.
Mac turned off the Promenade, making his way to Old Nice, through the medieval city walls, into the Place de Garibaldi, with its massive statue of Giuseppe Garibaldi, the hero of the Italian unification, in the center. The Square served as the entry gate to the old city, and the end of the road from Turin. Mac continued his run through the Place Massena, the main square of the city, lined with palm trees and stone pines, and the home of the Massena Casino. The Opera de Nice, constructed at the end of the 19th century, stood tall in the old city, greeting Mac as he ran through the Place Rosetti, in the heart of the old city. Mac thought he must bring Carla there, with the red and ochre buildings surrounding the square, the Cathedrale Saint-Repartate, and the fountain in the center. The restaurants and clubs on the terraces above the square were a highlight of the old city. Mac continued his run, back to the Promenade des Anglais, past the Hotel Negresco, with its domed front, and then back to the Palais des Mediterranee.
As Mac returned to the Palais, he was greeted at the front door by a doorman in red tails. He rode up to the fourth floor, expecting to wake up his bride. When he opened the door to the rooms, Mac smelled freshly brewed coffee to go with the sea air, which was gently blowing through the now open louvered doors to the balcony.
“Hi honey,” called Carla from the bedroom. “How was your run? I ordered us some breakfast.”
“It smells great. Suddenly, I am famished. My run was good. I found places I want to take you later. We are having lunch at the Place Rosetti. You will love it!”
“I love you, Mac. Wherever you take me is fine, if it is with you.”
As Mac entered the bedroom, he saw Carla sitting herself up on a mound of pillows, a hotel robe tied at her waist. He could tell that she was still naked underneath, as the robe gapped open at the top, over her curvaceous body. She cutely wiggled her toes to greet him, sipping her coffee from a china cup, a big smile on her face in response to Mac's apparent appreciation of his beautiful wife.
“Get a cup of coffee and come back to bed with me. I want my husband next to me. There is some fresh orange juice, and a basket of warm rolls.”
Mac joined his wife on the bedding, with his hot coffee, and his even hotter intentions.
“Oh, Mac, I almost forgot, there is a wire over there, on the coffee table in the other room. It was delivered this morning while you were out. The man who delivered it had a uniform on, so I figure it is important.”
“Who even knows we are here?” asked Mac, more or less to himself.
“Iris?”
“And I bet she told her godfather, damn! The Ambassador! I better go see what it says,” said Mac, as he got out of bed, and left the room. “It's from the president!”
“What does he want?”
“He wishes us congratulations on our marriage, and he apologizes for disrupting our honeymoon.”
“And what does he want, Mac?”
“He wants me to fly to Washington. He has a new assignment for me. He wants me to bring you with me to the White House. We are to leave next Monday November 3rd.
“Mac!” cried Carla, sounding unsure of what she was hearing.
“You will be fine.”
“I have never flown in a plane before, let alone across the ocean.”
“You will love it. Your hero Florence does it.”
“Oh, Mac!”
The young couple enjoyed the rest of their honeymoon, before motoring back to Rome the following weekend. The weather was turning chilly on the Tuscan shores, so swimming was not in the cards, much to Carla's chagrin. But they did find the time to cavort a bit on the beach at Viareggio and have dinner in Siena.
Once back in Rome, Carla packed the rest of her things, and moved into the Inn with Mac, for the couple of days before they left for America.
“Mac, what do I pack? How long are we staying?”
“Bring something nice for Washington; whatever else you might need, we can buy in New York.”
“Oh, Mac, can I go shopping on Fifth Avenue? I have seen it in magazines.”
“Sure, Carla. We will see what you need, once we know how long we are staying.”
Sunday night, the young couple had dinner with Alberto and Teresa, sharing their stories of border guards, and singing and gambling in the Palais. Carla never got to see the Grand Casino in Monaco, but there were promises made of future trips.
That night, as Carla rested her head in the crook of Mac's shoulder, she could not sleep with all the excitement and apprehension the following day would bring.
“Mac, are you awake?”
“Yes, Carla.”
“I am nervous!”
“Flying is nothing. You will get used to it.”
“No, I am nervous that I may not fit in your world.”
“It's a little late to be worried about that. Listen, you are the love of my life. My world will have to bend to you.”
Oh, Mac! You are so wonderful! You always know just the right thing to say. I love you!”
“I love you, Carla!”
“Mac?”
“Yes, Carla?”
“I am nervous about flying too. Do you have anything wonderful to say about that?”
“No,” laughed Mac. “Whatever happens, we will be together.”
“Ahh, Mac! Again, just the right words. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Carla.”
“Goodnight, Mac.”
Alberto and Teresa drove the young couple to the Ciampino Airport the following morning. There were tears all around, as no one was sure if and when they would see each other again.
“You take good care of my sister, you hear?” said Alberto, to Mac, as they walked off to the side. “The war is coming, Mac. Keep her in New York.”
“I will always take good care of Carla. I hope you are wrong about the war, but yes, if it happens, I will keep her in New York.”
“It is coming, Mac, do you hear me?”
“Do you know something?”
“Ciano says before Christmas, the world will be at war.”
“Do you know what is in the works?”
“Just that the Japanese will attack America. They are not interested in peace, no matter what they say to your president. It will happen somewhere in the Pacific, but Germany and Italy will declare war on America, as well. Tell your president it is imminent.”
“I will, Alberto. Thank you. You take care of yourself and Teresa. If you need something, go to Father Leiber.”
Alberto grabbed Mac's face with both hands, and he kissed him hard and long on his cheek, as his tears wet both. He kissed his sister similarly, as Mac kissed Teresa goodbye. The young couple boarded the four-engine plane to Lisbon, waving goodbye from the stairway.
“Mac!” yelled Carla, as the plane picked up speed down the runway. “Mac!” she yelled again, as the plane lifted off the ground, and out over the Tyrrhenian Sea. “Oh my God!” she laughed hysterically, digging her fingernails into his arm.
“We are up, Carla, now relax, before you rip a hole in my arm. You cannot grip my arm like that for five hours,” he laughed.
“Oh, Mac, I can’t believe I am flying!”
“It's great, isn’t it? We will be in Lisbon before you know it.”
“I know, I know! How long is the flight to America?”
“Twenty-four hours, but we stop in the Azores to refuel.”
“There is an airport there?”
“We land on the water.”
“What?” yelled Carla. “On the water? Are you kidding me?”
“No, the plane has pontoons. We land there, then on Long Island, on the water. It's nothing, really.”
“Oh, Mac!” moaned Carla, as she buried her head into his shoulder. “I think I peed myself when we took off.”
“There is a restroom over there,” laughed Mac. “Once we level off, you can get up and use the facilities.
Upon landing in Lisbon, Carla only made a little whimper, as the plane touched down, her eyes closed tight.
“See, not so bad,” said Mac.
“Not for you, maybe. I cannot believe I have to do this again tomorrow, and not from dry land, no less. Remind me to unpack my rosary beads for the trip, and extra panties.”
“You did great! You are a real Red Baron!”
“Who is Red Barron? Does he fly with his eyes closed as well?”
Mac took Carla to the spy bar that night, to prime her up for the trip in the morning. She was the hit of the Lisbon international crowd, with her stories of peeing her pants on takeoff. The following day, they went to the plane, where Carla marched right up the dock, and got into the Dixie Clipper, the two stewards giving her their hands, and showing her to her seat.
“Mac, now this is flying,” said Carla, before takeoff, as she studied the fancy cabin, and she captured the attention of the attendants.
“You will like this better, I am sure. Once we take off, we will eat breakfast in the dining room, have our coffee, and watch Europe fade away in the plane windows.”
“Just tell me when we are in the air,” laughed Carla, as she put a pillow over her eyes.
The flight went well, for both, as Carla delighted in the posh service, and the amenities offered by the airline. They landed in Port Washington ahead of schedule, where they caught a cab to the city.
“Mac, it is so big, New York. I cannot believe I am here. Where do you live, I mean we live?”
“West Eighty-Sixth Street, right off Central Park. It is small, but it will do for now. At least until we find out what the President has in store for us.”
“I think I am going to like it here,” said Carla, as they crossed the Queensboro Bridge. “Look at all these big buildings. Madonna! I am going to get lost here.”
The cab pulled up in front of the Park Cameron, where Whitey came out to greet Mac, and his bride. Mac grabbed Carla under the arm as he brought her into the marble lobby of the Park Cameron.
“Come, I want to show you our apartment,” said Mac, after introducing his wife to Whitey.
“I am so excited, Mac.”
The couple rode the elevator to the fifth floor, where Mac opened the door to what had been his bachelor pad. He was happy to see that the place was clean, and that the air was not too musty.
“How do you like it?” asked Mac, laughing.
“Well, let me say this. I think I got here just in time,” laughed Carla. “It is cute, Mac. It needs a little decorating, but I am happy.”
“I am so looking forward to you making it our home. It needs a woman's touch, no question.”
The couple freshened up after their long flight, and Mac made lunch reservations at La Mirabelle, across the street.
“Come, let me take you to my favorite restaurant. It's French.”
“I could cook for us, Mac. I do know how to cook.”
“I know you do. There will be plenty of time for that. Let me show you my city first.”
The duck and wine were superb, as the young couple talked about their dreams for what seemed like hours. They walked through the park afterwards, Mac showing Carla the Bethesda Fountain and the Boathouse. Hand in hand they walked up the cobblestone sidewalk on Central Park West, returning to Eighty-Sixth Street. Mac grabbed a couple of bottles of wine from the corner liquor store, and they went back to the Park Cameron. Seconds after entering the apartment, a quiet knock came to the door.
“Hallie,” said Mac, upon opening the door. “It is so good to see you. This is my wife, Carla.”
“It is wonderful to meet you,” said Hallie, hugging Carla by the door. “Mac has told me all about you, when he was here last.”
“Come in,” said Carla. “Mac has told me so much about you too, I feel like I know you.”
“I hope it was good,” laughed Hallie. “Mac is a good man, Carla. You hit the jackpot.”
“Wine?” asked Mac, as the two ladies sat on the couch.
“Sure, why not?” said Hallie.
The girls got acquainted while Mac opened and poured the wine. They were laughing out loud when he came in from the kitchen.
“Well, I guess you two have hit it off,” laughed Mac, without knowing what he was laughing about.
“She is a sweetheart, Mac,” said Hallie. “You are the lucky one.”
“Yes, I have finally found my better half. The president wants to meet her if you can believe that.”
“Sure, you paraded her half-dressed pictures all over Washington. Of course, he wants to meet her.”
“Oh Madonna, you heard about that too?” laughed Carla.
“Mac told me when he was here in June. Men! They never seem to think right.”
“I say the same thing. You would think that, as smart as he is, he would have figured that would happen.”
“Oh, well, don’t sweat it, honey; you obviously have the body to carry it off.”
“Thank you. Maybe, you can teach me how to dress like you do; you are so beautiful.”
“Oh boy, the dynamic duo,” said Mac. “She wants to go shopping on Fifth Avenue. Maybe you two could go together one day.”
“Now, that sounds dangerous,” laughed Hallie.
“Oh, please, Hallie. That would be so much fun!”
“Sure, let's do it. When are you going to Washington?”
“I was thinking Thursday, we will grab the train for a day or two, then come back, depending upon what the president says, I suppose. I did want to take Carla up to Poughkeepsie to see my parents, but that can wait until we get back.”
“Great, tomorrow we shop,” said Hallie. “You will probably be going to the office, no?”
“Yes, I guess I am now. I will meet you two for dinner. The Twenty-One Club?”
“Oh, yes,” said Hallie, nodding at Carla. “You will love it there, Carla.”
“Well, we have had a long day, Hallie. And it is our first night in the apartment.”
“Say no more! What was I thinking? Tomorrow, Carla, it's Fifth Avenue! I will ring your doorbell, let's say, eleven o’clock?”
“Sounds great. I look forward to it.”
“See you tomorrow, Mac,” said Hallie, as she walked out the door Mac was holding open. “She is delightful, Mac,” whispered Hallie, outside in the hall. “I am so happy for you.”
“Goodnight, Hallie!”