LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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