A Rare Find

“Glad to oblige.” Nick took another sip. He had lived to regret that episode in more ways than one. Not only was his neck perpetually out of whack, but people who met him for the first time inevitably brought up the massage debacle. The price of being semifamous, he told himself.

“Even back in college when you were my Residential Advisor, you were not exactly a role model. Not that I didn’t enjoy myself, of course. I still remember you orchestrating all us freshmen advisees in stealing the clapper from Grantham Hall.”

It was a well-known tradition for students to try to steal the clapper from the bell tower atop the administration building in the center of campus. This centuries-old battle between the students and the administration had led to some epic adventures and even more epic tales.

“Excuse me. I did a good job. Did you guys get caught? Hell, no. Not on my watch,” Nick boasted, and took another gulp. He really should slow down, but then, hey, he wasn’t driving. He barely needed to roll down a gentle hill to get back to his hotel.

Then there was the irritating fact that despite the easy manner with which Justin had invited him to dinner on his first night back to Grantham, he wasn’t feeling all that relaxed. There was something about returning to the scene of his first big screwup—not finishing college—that had a disquieting effect. All those parental dreams that he had squashed without a second thought.

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?”