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tried to find the key to that stupid lock.” She picked up two bright-pink message slips. “Monsignor Harvey’s assistant said he really wants you to call before noon, and your mom called right after you left.”
    Frank’s shoulders slumped. “Is there anything less professional than having your admin tell you to call Mom?”
    Giulia laughed. “Real men call their mothers regularly. This lets them cut the line into heaven.”
    “I’ll remember that.” He closed the door of his half of the office behind him.
    Giulia pulled out her cell and redialed Laurel. “It’s me again, sweetie. Can you email me everything you just sent to the police station? Here’s my address.” She waited while Laurel clicked her mouse. “I’m going to take a look at it on my lunch hour … yes, of course I’ll call you if I have any ideas … I know … I have to get back to work now.”
    Sidney plopped a stack of documents on the edge of her desk and opened the top file cabinet drawer.
    “I told you we’re going to have food stations at the reception, didn’t I?”
    Giulia discarded three emails. “You did. What did Olivier decide to have on his side?”
    Sidney jogged papers into one of the hanging folders. “Teriyaki pork kebabs at one, little corned beef sandwiches with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut at another, chicken wings at the third one.”
    Giulia looked up. “Reubens?”
    “Yeah, that was it. He went into rhapsodies over sauerkraut and Russian dressing and rye bread—which I could eat if I liked sauerkraut—but corned beef? Ew. I can just picture his poker gang glomming onto that preservative-filled heart-attack fodder.” More papers disappeared into the file drawer.
    “Maybe their wives will encourage them to try your stations.” Giulia opened an unfinished spreadsheet and her Day-Timer and started typing in her handwritten information.
    “Puh-lease. Olivier says they might try the free-range chicken dumplings if we don’t tell them they’re healthy. But he says they’ll run away from the mushroom pâté and the corn-and-pumpkin stew. It’s all grown locally—even the wheat used to make the bread for the bruschettas.”
    “As long as everyone has a good time …” Giulia’s voice trailed off as she deciphered her own writing.
    “That’s what Mom says. You’re right. I’m just nervous.”
    Giulia hit Save . “Why?”
    Sidney closed one drawer. “Not about marrying Olivier. He’s wonderful and I love him and I love his family too. About everything being perfect. I worry that I’ll turn into one of those Bridezillas or that we’ll get to the church and the Pope will burst open the doors and tell everyone that the wedding is canceled because I failed that test on church history.”
    “You failed that test?” Giulia fought—and conquered—her desire to smile at the picture of the Pope and two dozen attendant Cardinals invading quiet little Our Lady of Perpetual Help. “Did you freeze?”
    “I overloaded. I was okay with the real early stuff, but when the test got to the Borgias and all those corrupt popes, everything scrambled in my brain like eggs. Plus I hadn’t eaten that morning and I thought of eggs and— poof . There went half my studying. All I could think about was a mushroom omelet.”
    “You can retake it.”
    “Not till after the honeymoon. It wouldn’t have changed the wedding plans even if I did pass, because I’ve got a bunch of steps to go before I become 100 percent Catholic and can join in Communion and everything. Father Pat’s got our whole liturgy set up, and says that everyone’ll be going to church the next day for Christmas anyway because it’s Sunday, so it’s not like they’ll be missing their Communion for the week.”
    Frank opened his door. “Seven.”
    “Seven what?” Giulia said.
    “Seven separate commissions from the Diocesan Office. Did you have any idea the Church had so many projects they didn’t want to handle themselves?”
    “That wasn’t my