14:45 pm.
The phone rings again.
Margareth.
Her tone is happy, enthusiastic—like someone who just won something.
But what?

“Nando,” she calls me like that on the phone, “pack your trolley. We are leaving.”

“Romantic getaway,” I answer.
She keeps laughing.

Then she lays out the plan:

June 23, 2026
Reggio Calabria → Rome, flight at 06:30 am, arrival 08:10 am.
Same day, Rome → New York, BUSINESS CLASS, 10:40 am, arrival at JFK 17:10 pm.
Driver and limousine at JFK, available for the entire stay.
Suite in Manhattan, 15 days, top floor, view of Central Park.
Debit card with 10,000 USD + 3,000 USD cash waiting in the room.

“Do these dates and details work for you?”

“Yes,” I say, “but at least tell me what you like. If we are doing a romantic getaway, I need details: Sprite, white wine, or champagne?”

And then:
“Do you prefer top or bottom bunk on the train?”
Ahahahah.

She loses her mind.
“If you keep going like this, I’ll fly to you right now.”

“If you agree on the dates,” she continues, “I will send you the draft pre‑contract we are preparing. Then we will finalize the details.”

This is everything I do NOT expect.
Before hanging up she adds:

“Oh, almost forgot: if you give me even an informal yes, I’ll call Goldman‑Sachs to make the 54th‑floor room at ONE LIBERTY PLAZA available.”

“But you know that room belongs to the owners and isn’t for rent?”
“Yes, I know. That is the beauty.”

I breathe.
Ask for a few hours.
Tell her I will call back.

She is a river in flood, a volcano without lava—burning with passion for her work, professionalism after that, and then the fact of being a woman, which you can smell from her first words.

My wife walks into the room.
Sees my face white.
Asks if I saw a ghost.

“Yes,” I answer.
“But this one has a body and a beautiful mind.”

Nando

Only a woman knows how to prepare perfectly without knowing the outcome.