“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 stuff?” 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—”