When we emerge from the restaurant, the desk clerk finds us again. “I am looking at your reservation,” she explains a little apologetically, “and I see you wanted two beds. We can make your room into two beds.”
I am going to ask what exactly she means when Jess demands, “How does that work? We have unpacked already. We do not want to change rooms.”
“No, no,” says the clerk, appalled to think we think her capable of such inconsideration. “You do not need to move rooms!”
“Oh, I see,” Jessica responds, while I am wondering when she took over. The desk clerk obviously knows who’s in charge, so she says to Jess, “Mademoiselle, we will just move the beds apart, you see? They are two beds pushed together. We will push them apart. This is what you would like?”
“Yes,” I venture but Jessica says, “How soon can you do it?” She has been in Italy for only a few hours and already knows we must nail these things down.
“Ten minutes,” the desk clerk says, looking scared. “That is all right, mademoiselle?”
“Really, there’s no rush,” I say.
“It will be ten minutes exactly,” the clerk swears to Jessica.
“That will be fine,” Jessica says, and the clerk gives her a little bob that resembles a curtsy and goes off to arrange matters as Jessica has instructed.
For a child with such challenges to overcome, she has an amazing way of making the world do her bidding.