“And cardamom,” Amara interjected.
Penelope nodded before continuing. “Including cardamom, which was formed by pulverizing the mixture with the addition of honey as a binder. It was supposed to be an antidote to poison. The recipe here is one attributed to Galen.”
“Galen who?” Nick asked. He could be as academic-y as the next person, he told himself.
Georgie leaned to Nick. “That would have been my next question, too.”
Amara raised her hand. “He’s Aelius Galenus. Also known as Claudius Galenus and Galen of Pergamon. He was of Greek ancestry, but lived in Rome, and was an important philosopher, and physician, and, really, one of the most famous medical scientists in the classical period. Unfortunately, with the fall of the Roman Empire, his works were lost to the West until the Renaissance, when he was rediscovered and his works were translated from the Arabic versions into Latin. In fact, since the original texts were mostly lost to the West, sometimes these translations were actually translated back into Greek. But this one…” Her voice trailed off.
“Is an original from the second century A.D.,” Penelope confirmed.
Amara cupped her hands over her open mouth.
Even Nick was too stunned to speak. Sure it was mind-boggling that they were looking at something written that long ago. But what was more startling was the bald demonstration of his daughter’s intellect and education. Not to mention Penelope’s complete command of arcane information and the assumption that everyone wanted to know about it.
Which, come to think of it, he did. Nick shook his head. He wasn’t a total ignoramus, and he respected people with genuine intellectual curiosity. It’s just that he had never equated himself with the latter.
And that’s when he found himself becoming mesmerized by that throbbing blue vein on the side of her forehead.
* * *
“HIS CONTRIBUTIONS to anatomy and pharmacology are obvious—”
“To some of us.” Press interrupted Penelope with a smile.
Penelope frowned. “Press, are you making fun of me?”
“Never…well…okay, but no more than normal.”
Penelope smiled in an understated way. She was satisfied with his answer. Indeed, she was rather pleased that the two of them had this convivial relationship. It was…almost normal. “Yes…well…but in addition, in light of this manuscript, one can see that he made enormous contributions to pharmacology.”
“Don’t forget his philosophical work,” Amara noted.
“Of course, you’re right. His studies of logic are very important.” Penelope crossed her arms. “That’s very impressive for someone of your age.”
“Or any age,” Georgie added.
Penelope acknowledged his comment before addressing Amara again. “So you’re interested in the ancient languages and thought?”
Nick found himself leaning forward, curious about the answer.
Amara shrugged, appearing awkward as the center of attention. “I just took a bunch of courses in ancient Greek and Latin in school. But it’s not like it was a big deal. I mean, I’m one of those people who seem to have a thing for languages. Like some people can throw a curve ball, or be good with map directions, I’m good with languages.”
“Amara, honey, that’s fantastic,” Georgie congratulated her. “There’s no need for modesty. And you speak other languages, too?”
“Yeah, Spanish and French and Italian. But once you know one Romance language, it’s pretty easy to pick up another.”
“You must learn German,” Penelope instructed. “I’m sure you’d find its logical construction fascinating, and then you’ll be able to enjoy all those great writers like Goethe and Thomas Mann.”
“Oh, Death in Venice,” Amara practically cooed. “I loved that. I even cried. But of course, I only read it in translation. Hey, maybe I could take a German course this summer, although…”
“Wow, I’m impressed. I thought I was doing well when I passed the language requirement for Grantham, and that was only French,” Press said.
Penelope shifted her gaze to Nick. “You must be very proud of your daughter. Very few young people these days have an appreciation for the past, let alone such expertise.”
“Proud? Stunned is more like it,” he admitted. “Makes me embarrassed that I didn’t know anything about this before now.”
Penelope raised a critical eyebrow as she digested this information. Then she turned to Press. “As long as Amara appears to be interested in manuscripts, perhaps you’d like to show her around the library before you take over at the information desk.”
“Sure, if you want,” Press agreed.
Amara nodded eagerly and she inched closer to him as he headed for the door.
“Where’s a camera and a cameraman when we could use one?” Georgie said to Nick. “They look very cute together, don’t you think?”
“Way too cute,” Nick muttered.
* * *
NICK LIFTED HIS HEAD and spoke up, “It will have to be a quick tour, Amara, because you’re coming with me when we’re finished here.”
“Maybe I should just go back to the pool house, then.” Amara looked as though she was about to pout.
“I know, I know, not the most exciting option, but it’ll give us a chance to catch up,” he offered. He held up his hand to get Press’s attention as he started to turn. “And, Press, did Mimi mention to you that we’ll be filming at Hoagie Palace this evening? I understand that you’re a real insider, and it would be great if you could join us.”
Press bobbed a nod. “Yeah, I heard from Mimi. It will be great. Angie and Sal—they’re the owners—are amazing. I’m happy to do anything that’ll help them.” Press looked at Amara. “If you’ve never had hoagies from The Palace, you haven’t lived.”
“On the other hand, perhaps you’ll live longer if you haven’t tried the saturated fat and cholesterol content,” Penelope observed.
“Yeah, but you only live once,” Press replied.
“Spoken like someone whose doctor has not mentioned that fateful word—Lipitor,” Nick added.
“You gotta come,” Press urged Amara, seemingly oblivious to Nick’s caustic humor.
Amara seemed torn. Nick could tell she wanted to hang out with lover-boy here. Yet the thought of spending any more time than necessary with her father was a complete downer.
“You must go,” Penelope intervened, stepping between the two young people. “I believe someone with your intellectual interests would be a good influence on Press.” She leaned closer to Amara and whispered loudly, “He’s what I like to think of as a diamond in the rough.”
Press rolled his eyes.
“You see? He’s suitably embarrassed, so you have no choice but to go.”
“Okay,” Amara conceded.
“Good, now that’s settled.” She shooed them out the door. Then she looked back at Nick and Georgie. “I’ll be right with you. I want to make sure Press gives Amara a glimpse of the maps of the Holy Land and ancient Rome. They are sure to be of interest.”
As soon as she left, Nick turned to Georgie and smiled. “The camera’s going to love her,” he murmured with a shake of his head.
“You could be right,” Georgie replied. He worked his mouth.
Nick knew that face. “What is it? What’s bugging you?”
Georgie snapped his mouth shut and heaved a sigh. “Tell me, what is it you actually want with her? Penelope?”
“To taste her ’nduja.”
“Is that what they call it now?” Georgie looked dubious.
Nick shook his head. “This is strictly aboveboard. When you get a load of this stuff, you’ll know why I want to get it on film. It’ll be like tasting ambrosia. And who knows? This other stuf
f?” He waved his hand at the manuscripts on the table. “We should include it, too. I mean, it wasn’t what I had in mind going into this project. But, hey, as you are always telling me—adaptation is key.”
“Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t listen to me.” Georgie frowned. “She’s a nice lady, Nick. I saw the way you reacted. I get what’s going on with you.”
Nick held up his hands defensively. “Then you get more than I do.”
Georgie gazed over his bushy eyebrows. “She doesn’t need any trouble.”
Penelope came striding back into the room. She looked squarely at Nick. “Before I show you any more items from the collection, I have a question.”
Nick raised his eyebrows.
“What are you really doing here?” Penelope asked. “I’ve been at this job long enough and dealt with other production companies. Usually, when someone wants to use our collection, they contact us months in advance.”
Nick glanced at Georgie. “Maybe that’s why we’re still on basic-cable television?” He turned back to Penelope and attempted his aw-shucks smile.
Penelope crossed her arms.
Georgie covered his mouth and coughed.
Nick rubbed his nose. “Okay, you caught me. The manuscripts you showed us are great. It’ll provide some kind of academic context for the show. After all, this is Grantham, an Ivy League school. And dunce that I am, I really didn’t put all that together until I was talking with Justin last night, and he happened to mention your position here.”
Penelope tapped her foot.
Nick looked down. The photos of Brigitte Bardot on her shoe jiggled up and down provocatively.
“Maybe I’ll just wait outside?” Georgie suggested. “I have a few phone calls to make.” He slipped out.
“I would hardly call someone who has written a bestseller, hosts and writes his own award-winning travel-food show and has a degree from Grantham University—”
“Full disclosure,” Nick interrupted. “I never got my degree.”
She waved off his comment. “I repeat again, what is it you really want?”
He took a step closer. It wasn’t a threatening move, but definitely allowed him to enter her personal space.
She didn’t retreat, but instead raised her head to look him directly in the eye.
He noticed the throb of that vein in her forehead again and felt an irresistible urge to stroke it. But he didn’t.
Instead he wet his lips and said in a low voice, “Well, now that you mention it, I want you to come to Hoagie Palace with us tonight.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yes, not to mention a free meal.”
“And after tonight?” She toyed with the collar of her lab coat.
Never had a uniform been so alluring. “After tonight?” he repeated her words. He searched her eyes to ascertain what she was thinking, but he found himself distracted, confused…more than confused. And then it dawned on him—what he hadn’t been able to figure out before. The reason he felt so off balance around her? “Why, to find out what a woman with eyes each a different color does for excitement.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“THIS IS JUST THE KIND of place that makes me very, very happy,” Nick announced on camera. “I’m here with a student from Grantham University who is such an aficionado of Hoagie Palace, he even has a sandwich named after him.”
“Not just named after me. I came up with the combination,” Press clarified. He waited expectantly as Nick thrust himself wholeheartedly into eating his enormous hoagie. The long split roll barely contained a full chicken cutlet, half-a-dozen mozzarella sticks and a bunch of French fries—all covered in hot sauce.
Nick chewed and swallowed. “That’s some kinda wonderful. Who said the youth of America had nothing to offer these days? Press, this is inspirational.” Nick took another bite.
Actually the hoagie was delicious, which meant Nick was currently thinking good thoughts about Mimi’s half brother, instead of wanting to cut off essential male parts because he seemed to be the object of his daughter’s constantly adoring gaze.
Nick swallowed and turned to Angie, the co-owner of the establishment. The mass of them were jammed into the tiny greasy spoon located on Main Street. Nick and his crew. Justin and Lilah—in the end, she had decided to risk it. Along with them was the überfamous network correspondent Mimi Lodge, wearing a Hoagie Palace T-shirt and an attitude, as well as Press, Amara and, yes, Penelope. Not that the presence of the film crew had stopped the hordes from piling in, too.
Nothing, it seemed, could stop the locals, especially the high school and college students, from lining up for the kind of appetite-satisfying food that required a loose waistband and possibly a roll of Tums afterward. Not only did the line snake around the inside of the small store, but it made its way out onto the sidewalk, where eager customers joked under the shade of a flowering pear tree and stared soulfully at the lucky few munching away nearby at several benches.
Fortunately it was a happy crowd content to wait and shoot the breeze.
Things were heating up on this balmy late-spring day. While the humidity outside was still at a tolerable level, inside the shop the deep-fat fryers and grills were going full blast. The three short-order cooks, all wearing Hoagie Palace T-Shirts in the ubiquitous orange-and-black, turned out the food in rapid, coordinated fashion. Normally Angie manned the cash register. Tonight, it was Sal’s job so Angie could be front and center.
“Angie, I gotta tell you, I remember Hoagie Palace from my college days at Grantham. But this is better than all my memories combined,” Nick announced. He stooped down to better converse with the middle-aged owner.
“We just try to keep going what my husband’s uncle started in the seventies. We still use our special ‘saltpeppaketchup,’ and we still get our extralarge rolls from the same bakery in Trenton.”
Nick looked directly at the camera. “See, supersizing has a long and distinguished tradition.”
Angie smiled. For a purveyor of high-caloric food, she was remarkably trim except for a thickening at the waist. Business was obviously good—or Sal was clearly a good husband—because she sported a tasteful gold-and-diamond bracelet. “But we are constantly looking to meet the tastes of our customers,” she continued earnestly.
“Tell me you are not going healthy?” Nick pleaded.
“We do offer tasty Greek and chef salads, but truthfully, they’re not our biggest sellers.” She heaved her shoulders and cupped her hand in front of her in the familiar New Jersey gesture. “Still, we like to add special combo hoagies to the menu that some of our favorite customers have devised.” She pointed to Nick’s mammoth selection. “The Big Press being one of the most popular.”
Nick could tell she wanted to pinch Press’s cheek. “Hats off to you, kid. The combination of all the flavors, the inspiration of putting the fries in the hoagie instead of having them on the side—pure genius.”
Press looked abashed. “Maybe I should put it on my résumé when it’s time to get a job. What do you think?”
Nick waved his hand. “You’ve got my letter of recommendation, no problem.”
Angie smiled and tried to look serious. “Press doesn’t need a sandwich on his résumé. He’s graduating next week with honors. Then he’ll take a year to travel and get his master’s degree before enrolling in graduate school for a Ph.D in paleontology. We’re so proud of him. He’s grown up so beautifully. We think of him as our own.” Finally she couldn’t resist and gave an embarrassed Press a squeeze. Then she looked over her shoulder toward the cash register. “Right, Sal?”
Sal, who was efficiently handling payments, looked up at the sound of Angie’s voice. “You bet, Ang,” he called out
with a smile on his face and a twenty in his hand. “Just like a son.”
“Clearly you treat your sons right,” Nick said. It was kind of humbling to realize that Angie knew more about Press’s plans than he knew about his own daughter’s. “So, can I be your son, too? Hey, I’ve been a short-order cook, maybe not very accomplished, but passable.”
Angie eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t know. You don’t strike me as being such a nice boy.”
Nick did a mock gag. “She knows me too well. Which is probably why she knows how to please her customers. Let’s see how the other Grantham alums think you stack up compared to their college memories.” He turned to the huddle. “So? How is it?”
Out of the side of his eye, he spotted Penelope, who had managed to separate herself from the hordes and was gazing serenely at the array of photos of Hoagie Palace patrons wearing their signature T-shirts in far-flung places.
She would have to wait. Instead he angled closer to his buddy Justin. “As good? Better than you remembered?”
Justin swallowed and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “The chicken parm is amazing—as always. Truthfully I should have ordered a half hoagie, but I couldn’t control myself.”
Nick scanned the others.
Lilah was being a real trooper and chowing down on an egg-salad sandwich. “I need to eat lighter now that I’m expecting.” She apologized for not holding up her end. “But it’s still great.”
“Ha, I’m certainly not eating lighter. It’s a sausage hoagie for me—first, last and always,” Mimi chimed in, smiling confidently toward the camera. But then, cameras were a part of her daily existence. And she sure knew how to capture a story in a sound bite. “I don’t know what it is about The Palace. It makes coming back to Grantham all the more worthwhile,” Mimi said.
Nick was delighted to have her star power, but he didn’t want her dominating the show. Besides, this was his chance to finally do something for his daughter. He wasn’t beneath currying favor. “And my own daughter has made the pilgrimage to this temple of goodness. Amara, you’re not a Grantham alum, but we’ll let you into the club.” He winked.
A Rare Find Page 6
