Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2)

by Christa Polkinhorn

  “Which of the cousins is that?” Nicholas asked.

  “Giuseppe,” Martin said. “You probably don’t know him.”

  “I think I met him. Isn’t he the fat one—at least he was fat then—with the dark curly hair and the mustache. He had this heavy Italian accent and he was always joking around. He was funny.”

  “Yes, that’s probably him. He can be funny all right, but I wouldn’t trust the guy if my life depended on it,” Martin said.

  Sofia grinned. “Little did I know when I met Nicholas that I was marrying into a family of criminals.” She patted Martin’s arm, hoping she hadn’t offended him. “Just kidding, Grandpa.”

  Martin gave a quick smile. “Yes, you should have made some inquiries first. We Segantinos sure have a few skeletons in the closet. Well, at least in the vineyards.”

  Then he turned serious again. “I hate for you to get into trouble, snooping around. I don’t trust my relatives. This isn’t your business, Nicholas. Let’s leave it to the police.”

  “Don’t worry, Grandpa. We’re not going to do anything dangerous. And this really isn’t the main reason for our trip to New York. It would just be nice to spend a few days with Sofia doing something fun, before she goes to Italy … and before the heavy work at the vineyards starts again.”

  Martin nodded. “That’s fine. I can take care of things here for a few days.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.” Nicholas said.

  Martin turned to Sofia. “Perhaps one of these days, Maria and I can take a trip to Italy. I wouldn’t mind seeing your vineyard in Tuscany. Sounds like a wonderful place.”

  “That would be great,” Sofia said. “My family there would really enjoy having you.”

  PART TWO: A FAMILY IN TROUBLE

  Chapter 8

  JFK Airport in New York was a mess. A winter storm created chaos. Flights were canceled or delayed. The plane from San Luis Obispo Nicholas and Sofia were on was delayed but, fortunately, able to land. Now, they were in the arrival hall, waiting for one of their relatives who was supposed to pick them up. They had been waiting for half an hour.

  “Not knowing what the guy looks like doesn’t make it any easier,” Nicholas mumbled as he scanned the people walking in and out of the arrival hall. “He said he’d hold up a sign.”

  “Perhaps he was delayed because of the weather,” Sofia suggested.

  “But it isn’t snowing here,” Nicholas remarked.

  “No, but it’s windy.” Sofia motioned at the fluttering flags on top of one of the airport buildings. “I’m getting hungry.” She pointed at a snack bar. “Perhaps they have a sandwich or something. We can watch the people from there.”

  Nicholas nodded. “Okay, and if he doesn’t show up by the time we’re finished, we’ll just take a shuttle or a cab and go to our hotel. We can call them from there.”

  They ordered juice and sandwiches, then sat down at a table from where they could keep an eye on the people coming and going.

  “Well, Martin must be right about his New York relatives,” Nicholas said after he finished his snack. “They don’t seem to be very dependable. Why don’t we just leave? I’m tired of waiting.”

  Sofia agreed. They grabbed their luggage and headed for the exit. Outside, they boarded a shuttle to the Port Authority station at Times Square in Manhattan, and from there they took a cab to their hotel near the Guggenheim Museum. After checking in and depositing their suitcase and bags in their small but clean room, Nicholas tried again to call the Segantino family on Staten Island. After a few rings, a woman answered. Nicholas told her who he was.

  “What? You’re here already? Oh, my God. Wait a minute … Mario,” she shouted.

  Nicholas began to lose heart. He rolled his eyes and looked at Sofia. At this moment, someone at the other end coughed.

  “Hi, this is Mario. Nicholas?” a male voice said.

  “Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry, we waited for quite a long time at the airport, but nobody came.”

  “Oh, no.” Mario sounded upset. “I thought it was tomorrow. Sorry about that. Where are you now?”

  Nicholas gave him the name of the hotel in Manhattan.

  “Sorry again. Why don’t you come here tomorrow? I can pick you up.”

  “Well, Sofia and I can take the ferry to Staten Island,” Nicholas said. “We’ve never done this before. Sounds like a fun trip.”

  “All right. Check the schedule and give me the time when you arrive in Staten Island. I’ll pick you up. Call my cell.” Mario gave Nicholas his mobile phone number.

  “Okay, see you tomorrow. Don’t forget,” Nicholas said.

  “No, man, I won’t. Promise. See ya.” Nicholas heard a titter, then pressed the disconnect button. “Well, at least one person in that family seems halfway dependable.”

  Sofia laughed and patted his shoulder. “You’re starting to sound like your grandfather.”

  “So, what are we going to do with the rest of the day? Museum?” Nicholas put on his jacket.

  Sofia grabbed her purse. “Yes, let’s go to the Guggenheim.”

  It was only a few blocks from the hotel to the museum. When they arrived, they admired the architecture of the modern building right next to Central Park, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. They checked out the exhibitions and decided to just go into the general one.

  “Whoa, pricey,” Nicholas said, as he saw the entrance fee. “A lot more than the museums in Los Angeles and San Francisco.”

  “Well, we’re on vacation and this is a very special museum,” Sofia said.

  They walked on the slowly rising path along the rotunda, admiring the works of art and enjoying the special atmosphere the organic form of this building created.

  “It is amazing,” Nicholas whispered, squeezing Sofia’s hand.

  In the evening, they went to have dinner in a restaurant near their hotel.

  “I really wonder what these relatives of mine are like,” Nicholas said. “I don’t remember them very well. I was a boy when we visited them in New York.”

  “I’m curious, too,” Sofia said. “Grandpa doesn’t seem to think very highly of them.”

  “That’s true. Well, we’ll see.” Nicholas took a sip of wine. He grimaced slightly. “The food is good here, but the wine … a little on the bland side for a Merlot.”

  “You can’t expect all the wines to be as excellent as ours.” Sofia snickered. “Don’t I sound like one of these wine snobs?”

  After dinner, they went for a walk, then returned to their hotel. Nicholas tried to call Mario again to give him their arrival time at Staten Island the following day. Instead of Mario, a woman answered and told him that Mario couldn’t come to the phone right then. “Can I leave him a message?” she asked.

  Nicholas gave her the arrival time of the ferry. “Make sure he gets the information,” he added.

  “Yeah, sure, no problem.” The phone disconnected, before Nicholas could say anything more.

  “Hmm. Not very reassuring,” Nicholas said. “We can only hope Mario gets the information.”

  “Don’t worry. Whatever happens, at least, we’ll have a nice outing on the boat,” Sofia said.

  “I guess I should call Grandpa. But I better wait until tomorrow. Perhaps we’ll have something more definite to tell him,” Nicholas said.

  “Time to go to bed?” Sofia put her arms around him.

  “Sounds good to me. As long as it’s not just for sleeping.” Nicholas kissed her and she gave a pleasurable sigh as his hand moved over her body.

  Chapter 9

  After a quick breakfast, Sofia and Nicholas took the subway to the Whitehall Terminal in Lower Manhattan. They got the tickets and waited for the boat to Staten Island to arrive.

  “This is great,” Sofia said as the boat was leaving the harbor. “Now, we’ll have a view of New York from the water.” It was a pleasant surprise for her. Here was Manhattan in its glory, including the new tower on Ground Zero where the terrorists had destroyed the twin towers of the World
Trade Center. Sofia felt the new structure was a little over the top—interesting but too grandiose. Nicholas agreed. However, they enjoyed the view of the Statue of Liberty, the Hudson River, and the surrounding area.

  Sofia gazed eagerly toward Staten Island, which became visible as the fog lifted. “It’s nippy,” she said, zipping up her down vest and hugging her arms.

  “Let’s go inside,” Nicholas suggested. They went into the cabin and sat down next to a window.

  The ride took about thirty minutes. When they arrived at the station on Staten Island, they got off the boat and waited in the entrance hall. Mario had told Nicholas he was going to hold up a sign with the family name.

  “There he is.” Sofia motioned with her head toward a young man holding up a cardboard sign with Segantino written on it.

  Nicholas waved and the man started toward them. He was about Sofia’s height, slim, with longish dark hair that curled slightly over the collar. The color of his hair and his dark brown, almost black, eyes reminded Sofia of the photo she had seen of Angelo. He was definitely part of the Segantinos. She judged him to be in his thirties.

  “Hi there. I’m Mario.” He hugged Nicholas and slapped him on the back. He looked Sofia up and down and smiled. “Pleased to meet you. So, you are the beautiful wife.” He hugged her, then stepped back.

  “Sorry, guys, about missing you yesterday. I don’t want to pass the buck, but Uncle Giuseppe gave me the wrong date.”

  “No problem,” Nicholas said and gave Sofia a quick glance.

  They left the terminal and Mario pointed his key at a sporty-looking BMW to turn off the alarm. He must be wealthy, Sofia thought.

  “Sorry about the mess.” Mario grabbed a bunch of books and a few empty Starbucks coffee paper cups. He threw the cups in a trash bin nearby and tossed the books onto the back seat. “Just move them over,” he said to Nicholas who opened the back door.

  “Are you an engineer?” Nicholas asked as he picked up one of the books. Sofia, sitting in front, turned to glance at the title, something about electrical engineering.

  “Yeah,” Mario said. “I’m one of few members of the family who went to college. I work for a company called Arup. It’s a good place. Lots of opportunities for continuing education.” He started the car and drove along a narrow road, then eased his way onto a freeway going south toward Rosebank where the family lived.

  “So, how’s life in California?” Mario asked.

  “Busy but great,” Nicholas said.

  “I really want to visit you guys sometime. I was in San Francisco on business last year, but I was too busy with work.” Mario shrugged.

  “Yes, come on by. You’d enjoy it,” Sofia said.

  “You know, my dad orders wine from your estate,” Mario said. “He gets a discount from you guys. He really loves your wine. Well, we all do.”

  “That’s great to hear,” Nicholas said. “You should visit us. I only vaguely remember one member of our New York relatives. I think it was … I guess your uncle? Giuseppe?”

  “Oh, yes, the mobster.” Mario grinned.

  “What?” Sofia stared at Mario.

  He laughed. “Just kidding. It’s become his nickname. We only use it among ourselves and behind his back. He must’ve been a real troublemaker as a young guy. He’s a fairly straight arrow now.”

  “He’s Grandpa’s and Great-Uncle Angelo’s cousin,” Nicholas said.

  Mario nodded. “I heard you’re looking for Angelo. My father mentioned it.”

  “Well, yes, a few things happened lately that makes it important to find him. Or, at least, find out where he is or was. We don’t even know if he’s still alive,” Nicholas said.

  “I doubt we know much.” Mario wrinkled his forehead. “But perhaps my parents and Uncle Giuseppe can tell you more. I’m really out of the loop with our … well, let’s say, infamous family story.” Mario glanced at Sofia with a twinkle in his eye.

  She liked Mario. He seemed intelligent and sophisticated. Perhaps Grandpa Martin painted the reputation of the relatives in Staten Island somewhat too bleak.

  “Here we are,” Mario said. “Good old Rosebank.”

  “It’s lovely here,” Sofia said, as they drove through the quaint downtown neighborhood with old-fashioned-looking stores, a few coffee shops, and a furniture store. The houses had a Victorian flair and reminded Sofia a little bit of San Francisco.

  “Yes, it’s still a nice neighborhood,” Mario said. “It’s changed quite a bit. Originally, it was mainly an Italian-American community, but a lot of other ethnic groups have moved in since. It’s a very mixed batch. I like it.”

  He stopped the car in a street just one block away from the waterfront and parked it in a driveway before an older two-story home with a yard. They got out of the car and Mario unhooked the gate to the yard. The door to the house opened and a black-and-white dog jumped outside and raced toward them. “Luna,” an older man, who appeared in the doorway, called in a sharp voice.

  The dog stopped and Mario grabbed it by the collar. “Don’t worry. She’s friendly.”

  Luna, apparently a mix between a Labrador and a few other breeds, sniffed Sofia’s gently outstretched hand, then let her pet her head. Soon, she wagged her tail.

  In the meantime, the man had walked down the few steps from the house and approached them. He was immediately followed by a woman about his age, in her late fifties, Sofia presumed. The man gave a friendly nod and the woman smiled at them.

  “My parents, Nino and Rosa,” Mario said.

  “Well, hi there.” Rosa hugged Nicholas. “Look at you. Handsome fellow.” She then turned to Sofia. “And your lovely wife. Welcome.” Unlike her husband who was tall and slim, she was short and chubby. She had curly black hair and lively, brown eyes. To Sofia, she looked like the quintessential Italian mamma.

  Nino and Nicholas hugged each other. “It’s been a long time,” Nino said with a smile. He put his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “You were a little tike when I saw you last.”

  “I know, we’re all getting older,” Nicholas said.

  “And welcome to the newest addition of the infamous Segantino clan.” Nino embraced Sofia.

  Sofia liked Mario’s family right away. In fact, she understood Martin’s misgivings about them less and less. His feelings for Angelo must have twisted his judgment a little. He seemed to blame the New Yorkers for some of the stuff Angelo did.

  Rosa patted her arm. “Let’s go inside. We’re waiting for Giuseppe and then we’ll have lunch.

  They stepped into the house, which was fairly large and modestly but tastefully furnished. Some pictures on the wall reminded Sofia of Italy. The house was a block away from the bay. From the balcony of the living room, they were able to see the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and parts of Brooklyn and Manhattan.

  “What a view!” Sofia said.

  “Yes, the view is one of the perks of living here,” Rosa agreed. “I love to sit here in the early morning and watch the fog hover over the bay. Mysterious.”

  They all stood by the balcony door and watched the scenery. The surface of the water sparkled in the sunlight. Small and large boats were gliding through the bay. Then, barking and a loud voice interrupted the quiet moment. They walked through the living room to the front door. In the yard, a short, plump man was wrestling playfully with Luna.

  “Damn beast,” he said in a booming voice. He climbed the few steps and came inside.

  “Ah,” he shouted and pointed at Nicholas. “Our illustrious relatives from the Golden State are here. What an honor.” He bowed ceremoniously, then slapped Nicholas on the back.

  “You must be Uncle Giuseppe,” Nicholas said.

  Giuseppe opened his arms. “The one and only.”

  “This is my wife, Sofia.” Nicholas touched Sofia’s arm.

  Giuseppe’s lips curled into a grin. “What in heaven made you marry into this utterly crazy family? What were you thinking? Such a beautiful woman. You could’ve had anyone.”

&
nbsp; Sofia opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Giuseppe laughed out loud and hugged her. “Don’t mind me. Welcome to the family.”

  Sofia was surprised again at the jovial welcome the New York family gave them.

  They sat down to eat a delicious meal of chicken in Marsala sauce, potatoes, zucchini squash, and salad. Nino poured them a glass of red wine and Sofia saw that it was a bottle of their estate wine.

  “Only the best for the relatives from the Golden State.” Giuseppe raised his glass to Sofia and Nicholas.

  “This is an excellent lunch. Thank you. It reminds me of Italy,” Sofia said.

  “Thanks.” Rosa smiled. “We try to keep some of the traditions of our original homeland alive. One of them is the food, although, unfortunately, we Italian Americans are as much into junk food as everyone else.”

  “Come on, Mom, that’s not true. We hardly ever had junk food when I was a kid,” Mario protested.

  “Well, I try to keep us healthy,” his mother said.

  “Italy, hmm.” Giuseppe faced Sofia and Nicholas. “This reminds me. Martin told me about the skeleton.”

  “Yes,” Nicholas said. “And that brought up the question of Great-Uncle Angelo.”

  Giuseppe was quiet for a while. “It’s a sad chapter in our lives.” He got up, fetched his jacket, and pulled an envelope out of its pocket. He gave it to Nicholas.

  “That’s the last we heard of him.”

  Chapter 10

  The envelope contained a one-page note. Nicholas handed the envelope to Sofia and read the short letter out loud.

  Dear Giuseppe, I’m in Italy. Keep it a secret. You can tell Martin and Maria, but please tell them not to come looking for me. I’m fine. Hope everything is okay with you and the family.

  “Wow!” Nicholas rubbed his forehead. “Not much, and this is the only sign of life you’ve had from him?” He glanced at the others. They nodded.