Lilah, seated across the wooden table, shook her head. “I like that. Your definition of morality is that it’s all right as long as you don’t get caught.”
“I bet you never considered stealing the clapper, did you? I have vague memories of you being always on the forefront of whatever good cause was going around, and from the looks of things, you’ve made that your life’s work.” Nick poured himself another glass of wine and held the bottle out to Lilah. “Drink?”
Lilah laughed. “No wine for me, thanks. I’m three months pregnant.”
Nick eyed Justin. “As I recall, you always were a fast worker.” Then he turned to Lilah. “And I guess congratulations are in order. If anyone could reform a party boy, it’s you.” He picked up a fork and dug into the pasta that Lilah had just served. It followed an absolutely superb appetizer of marinated grilled eggplant.
“Yum. This is good.” Nick nodded after a large forkful. “Actually, speaking of great food, my producer’s been laying the groundwork around town for this show I’m filming, but frankly, I’ve got my number-one priority—Hoagie Palace.”
Justin passed the freshly grated Parmesan. “Oh, yeah, you gotta go to The Palace.” He used the student slang for the beloved greasy spoon in town.
“And I was hoping you’d both accompany me on my pilgrimage,” Nick said. “You know, some nice on-camera interplay of how the food conjures up certain episodes of our wild college youth.”
“Speak for yourself. The Palace for me was strictly late-night fare when writing papers,” Lilah said.
“For me it was the place to go after practice,” Justin remarked. He’d been captain of the lightweight crew.
“You know, comments like that are perfect,” Nick agreed. He took another bite. The pasta was good. More than good.
“I’m not sure I’d be the best person for your show, though,” Lilah admitted sadly. “The way my stomach is now, just the thought of all that grease is enough to make me queasy.”
“Bummer, I was viewing it as a family moment,” Justin teased her. Then he patted her arm. “Not to worry. I’ve got a great idea for somebody else. Press Lodge,” Justin announced.
“Is this someone I should know?” Nick asked.
“Remember Mimi Lodge, who was a classmate?” Justin asked. “She’s now a foreign correspondent.”
“You mean, have-war-will-travel Mimi Lodge?”
“That’s the one. Well, she has a half brother, Press, who’s a graduating senior.”
“And he’s practically been adopted by the owners,” Lilah added. “Not surprising, given his family situation.” Then she covered her mouth. “I shouldn’t be gossiping.”
“Don’t worry. Other shows deal with family strife. I’m after the food scene, and the idea of having a true insider in artery-clogging food is better than perfect. You think he’ll do it?” Nick asked.
Justin shrugged. “I don’t see why not, especially if it means publicity for Hoagie Palace.”
“I know Mimi came in today for Reunions. I’ll call her, and she’s sure to twist Press’s arm.”
“Ask her if she’ll come, too. The more the merrier.” Nick rested his fork on the edge of his plate. The pasta had been so delicious he had gobbled it down in record time.
Justin reached for more bread from the wicker basket by his elbow, then held it up. “Anyone else?”
Nick shook his head. “No, thanks, but I gotta tell you. This pasta is truly to die for. What’s in it? I mean, I can see there’s sausage—though it’s like no other sausage I’ve ever had. But what’re the greens?”
Lilah furrowed her brow in thought. “I can’t remember.” She looked to Justin. “What did Penelope say she put in it?”
“Wild fennel. She said something about foraging it somewhere near the Delaware Water Gap,” Justin explained.
Nick tipped his chair on the back two legs and craned his neck from side to side. “So where are you hiding this Penelope? This place doesn’t seem big enough to accommodate a golden retriever, let alone another person.”
It was true. The quaint apartment had lots of Victorian charm, including the bay window with a window seat and the original molding, but square footage was at a definite premium.
“It’s more like Penelope hides herself. She doesn’t exactly socialize,” Justin explained.
Lila touched her chin. “Penelope is definitely her own person.”
Justin looked at Nick. “Penelope’s a little weird. As her younger brother, I should know.”
“So she’s your sister.” Nick narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, didn’t she go to Grantham, too? Like a year behind me? I have this fuzzy recollection of her always going around campus with her face buried in a book.”
“That would be Penelope.” Justin chuckled. “She was born almost legally blind. Even with glasses, she had to read with the book an inch from her nose. The miracle is that she’s had laser surgery, and now she doesn’t need to wear glasses anymore.”
Nick held his bloated stomach. “As far as I’m concerned, anyone who makes pasta this good can be blind as a bat. The woman’s a genius in the kitchen, that’s for sure.”
“Well, she actually happens to be a genius,” Lilah said. “And please, have some more.” She indicated the large ceramic bowl.
“I know this is the wrong thing to do, but since when have I ever turned down an opportunity to eat myself silly?” Nick reached across the table and grabbed the serving utensils. “So your sister’s become a chef?”
“No, it’s more a…a…” Justin searched for the correct word. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a hobby, but a…a…”
“It’s more a passion,” Lilah finished his sentence. “When Penelope takes an interest in something, it’s total immersion.”
“She’s into southern Italy. You know, Calabria?”
Nick started on his second portion. “Not personally, but I know the region you’re referring to.”
“Anyway, somebody left her a house there, in this dot-on-the-map town called Capo Vaticano. It’s all a bit of a mystery, especially for someone on her salary. Though I guess she rents the place out.”
Lilah rested her chin on her hands. “Well, I for one am not complaining. She let us stay there for our honeymoon. The house is in the private garden on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean.”
“And don’t forget the infinity pool.” Justin’s eyes clouded over. “When I die and go to heaven, I hope it looks like that infinity pool.”
Nick set his fork down—for him, a real concession. “From what you’re all saying, Penelope’s passions have led to some pretty good things—the house, this food…” He pointed it out. “That type of passion I can deal with. In my experience, indifference is a lot harder to cope with, believe me.”
He didn’t elaborate, nor did they ask. If they had, Nick supposed he could have made some snide remark about his ex-wife. Heaven knows, for years after their divorce he hadn’t had any problems commenting on her faults. Now, those faults had become dimmer with time, and mostly what he felt was moderate disdain or worse, nothing, when he thought about her. Which, granted, he tried to do as little as possible.
He quickly forked down another mouthful and gulped. There was definitely something about the pasta that was incredible. “So why is your sister doing whatever she’s doing instead of cooking professionally?” He looked up. “It’s gotta be another passion, right?”
“I hope so.” Justin ripped his hunk of bread into smaller pieces. “Penelope had been groomed by our father to be another Classics professor, and…well…that didn’t quite work out.” He munched thoughtfully. “For the past year, she’s been a rare-book librarian.”
“Here at the university,” Lilah added. “Which means we get lucky sometimes and get some of her
cooking.”
“Well, if this pasta’s any indication of her culinary prowess, all I can say is wow.” Nick pointed at his empty plate. “Take the sausage she used. Only someone truly into cooking would take the pains to track down something that good.”
“Actually she makes it herself,” Lilah said. “But if you liked this, you should taste this other spreadable kind she makes. I can’t remember the name exactly, but it’s smoky and hot.”
“I think it’s called N-something,” Justin said. “It’s some unpronounceable word in a Calabrian dialect.”
“You don’t mean ’nduja?” Nick pronounced it instead like “endooya.” “My accent sucks, but you get the drift.”
Justin nodded. “That’s it!”
“That stuff’s legendary in southern Italy, you know. Supposedly the Calabrians concocted it in the eighteenth century while the French kings were ruling over that part of Italy. It’s essentially their version of the French andouille—you know, smoked pork sausage?”
“I learn something new every day. I guess it pays to invite a food expert to your place,” Lilah remarked. “In all sincerity, I’m glad you could come over tonight. Having said all that, can I get you to sign a copy of your book? I’ve got it right here.” She pointed to the wall of shelves and rose to get it. “And I want you to know I paid full price—no discounts.” She walked in her bare feet to the front of the room, all of five paces.
“I’d be happy to. This is what an author lives for—that, and the royalty checks.” Nick opened to the title page and began writing. “So, tell me, if I want to get in contact with your sister, Justin, what do I need to do? I presume she lives nearby.”
“Right here in Grantham,” Justin answered.
“So you think she’d be interested?” Nick handed the signed book to Lilah. “I mean, I’ve never heard of anyone being able to get ’nduja in the States, let alone make it.”
“Interested in what?” Lilah smiled as she read the message written in her book.
“You mean you want to meet her?” Justin asked. He pushed back his chair and beckoned his wife over.
“Well, that—”
“You mean for your show, don’t you?” Lilah said. She sat on Justin’s lap, squirming to get comfortable.
“Of course.”
Justin shook his head. “I’m not sure that would work. Penelope isn’t exactly a people person. Listen, I’m no professional, but from my experience teaching kindergarten, she seems to show a lot of the symptoms of Asperger’s—the mild form of autism. Not that she’s ever been diagnosed.”
Nick leaned on his elbows and opened his palms to the air. “I may not know your sister, but anyone who spends this kind of time and effort cooking a masterpiece like this—” he waved at his empty dish “—and then gives it to you no questions asked? You want my view?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “That person is definitely interacting with you on a fundamental basis. So she likes to be by herself. Hey, I’ve met a lot of people, and frankly, I can understand that. And that she doesn’t make chitchat in the normal superficial ways that, say, you or I do? In my case, that’s probably a good thing.”
He rose. “I tell you what. Why don’t you both think more about how I can get her to meet with me, and in the meantime I’ll clear and wash up. I may not be trusted to cook in a fine restaurant anymore, but I can still be counted on for my busboy and dishwasher abilities.”
Justin watched as Nick expertly lined multiple plates along the length of his arm without stacking. “Are you trying to show up my KP skills?”
“You’re just jealous,” Nick spoke over his shoulder as he turned toward the kitchen.
His cell phone started to chime in the back pocket of his jeans. He looked down. “Damn.” He juggled the dishes.
“Here, let me,” Lilah volunteered, hopping off Justin’s lap. “It’s not every day I get to come into close contact with a celebrity.”
Nick crooked his hip to offer up his back pocket.
Lilah slipped her fingers in gently.
“Now I’m jealous,” Justin kidded.
“Nothing wrong with a little jealousy.” Lilah slid the bar across the screen to activate the phone.
He cocked his head sideways against the screen. “Hello,” he answered the call, still juggling the plates.
“Daddy? I’m ba-ack!”
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS A SMALL MIRACLE that Nick hadn’t dropped the plates. Maybe it would have been better if he had.
Then he’d have an excuse to disconnect the phone and regroup before responding to the caller. Instead he looked up. “I better take this call.” He eased the plates into the sink and stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway. He figured he needed as much privacy as possible where his seventeen-year-old daughter was concerned.
“What’s up, Amara? I got your email about your graduation, but unfortunately I’m shooting an episode right now, so there’s a possibility that I won’t be able to make it.” He glanced out the arched window over the landing to the traffic below. Across the street the Grantham Public Library was ablaze with light. Maybe there still were people who read books, Nick mused.
“Well, it’s not like I really expected you to come. Since when have you made it to any of the important moments in my entire existence?” a sarcastic, high-pitched voice complained. “Anyway, Mom was the one who told me to tell you.”
Well, I was there at the moment of your conception, Nick could have said. But he wisely kept that remark to himself.
“Anyway, there’s no need for you to interrupt your busy schedule on my account,” Amara went on.
“I really want to,” Nick insisted ingenuously. Hanging out at the snotty prep school Amara attended in upstate New York—and where his well-mannered, maturely sensible ex-wife happened to work in the development office—was not high on his list of favorite activities.
“Don’t even pretend, Daddy.” She made the word sound ugly. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be there anyway.” The last remark was almost a throwaway.
Nick was immediately suspicious. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not graduating? I thought you were supposed to be some hotshot student?”
“Have you ever seen a single one of my report cards?” she snapped back.
“No, but, somehow I remember you or maybe your mother…”
“Forget Mother.”
Gladly, thought Nick.
“She’s out of the picture, on her honeymoon in Tahiti with Glenn.”
“Honeymoon? Tahiti? And wait a minute. Glenn?”
Nick heard a sigh of exasperation on the other end of the line.
“God, you’re so lame. Don’t the two of you ever talk? I don’t know why I even bother to ask. Anyway, I blamed it all on defective genes, inherited from you.”
Now Nick was really suspicious. “Back up there, Tonto. Blame what on me?”
“My getting kicked out. I figure I’m just keeping up the family tradition.”
So this is what fatherhood was all about? Not that he would really know, given his rare contact with his daughter. “Listen, Amara,” he responded, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. “As amusing as you may find it to pick on your old man—” he heard snickers, which didn’t improve his mood one bit “—it’s quite another to get kicked out of high school right before graduating. If nothing else, just think of how your mother will take this.” That sounded like something his father would have said about him growing up, Nick thought.
A loud whooshing noise on the phone drowned out whatever Amara was saying. That’s when he went beyond being suspicious to downright panicked. “Where are you? Did you run away?”
“Hardly. I’m at the Grantham Junction train station. I called your production
-company office and the receptionist told me where you were. The school wouldn’t let me leave except into the custody of a parent. And since Mom is now doing the dirty with Glenn…”
Nick cringed at the thought. Whatever affection he had had for Amara’s mother, Jeannine, had long since vanished. Still, he couldn’t deny a sense of irritation that his ex had managed to get on with her life while he was still floundering through random relationships.
The least he could do was put on his big-boy pants and do the right thing. “So I guess this means you’re planning on staying with me, right?” he asked.
“It looks that way.” Amara was not giving an inch. “So are you going to pick me up at the station, or do you plan on sending one of your lackeys? I always thought your cameraman was kind of cute.”
Now Nick was really scared. “I’ll be there. It’ll be a few minutes. My car’s in the garage, and I’m at a dinner party right now.”
Lilah approached him with a look of concern. “Problems?” she asked.
“Are you sure that party’s just dinner?” Amara asked sarcastically over the phone.
Nick narrowed his eyes. “The voice you heard was my friend and married host for dinner, thank you very much. Listen, I’ll be right over. Whatever you do, don’t move. And don’t talk to any strangers,” he barked before hanging up.
He thrust his phone into his pocket and rolled his eyes. “That was my teenage daughter. She’s unexpectedly descended on me.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate. “I’m just going to pick her up at the train station, and somehow I’m gonna find her a place to stay, which, given that Reunions and Commencement are just about to start, is going to be quite a feat.” He rubbed his mouth. “I don’t think she’s up for the close, personal experience of sharing a room with me.”
“Surely there’s another option.” Lilah frowned in thought, and Nick could practically hear the machinery of her altruistic fervor grind into action.
A Rare Find Page 3
