can do better than that. If anyone knows about someone in Union Square, it’s got to be the DeAngelis clan. I have great faith in Angelica and her daughters.”
Grace nodded as we got out, but as soon as we approached the door, she said, “Too bad they aren’t open yet.”
“I’m not giving up that easily.” I pounded on the door, and a minute later, Maria, one of the daughters, came out. “Sorry, we’re closed … oh, Suzanne, how are you?” Maria was an olive-skinned beauty like her sisters and mother, and I always enjoyed seeing her.
After she hugged me, I said, “I’m good. How’s your mother?”
“She’s on the warpath at the moment, but at least I’m not the one in her sights,” Maria said with a smile. “Hi, Grace,” she said as she glanced over at my friend.
“Hey, Maria. Sorry to just barge in like this.”
She smiled. “Friends and diversions are always welcome. How can we help?” We’d stepped inside the restaurant, shutting out the strip mall outside and entering a world with a sparkling fountain, deep red carpet, and faded brass fixtures. The windows were covered with heavy draperies, and the bright April sun was completely blocked out.
“We’re looking for information about someone here in Union Square,” I said.
Maria nodded. “You should ask Momma. She knows everyone around here. Back this way; she’s in the kitchen,” she said as she led us past the tables and through the swinging doors.
The change in atmosphere was striking, and instant. There was real brightness in the kitchen, with stainless steel everywhere and strong overhead lights illuminating the place as if it were an operating room. Angelica was chastising one of her daughters as we walked in, the two of them leaning over a marble slab while working dough, as Antonia looked on. Angelica was lecturing her youngest. “Sophia, you have to be gentle with the dough. It responds to the emotion you have while you’re creating it.”
“It’s just pasta,” Sophia said, and I saw Maria and Antonia both wince.
Angelica suddenly dropped the ball of dough she’d been working with her hands on the slab. “Just pasta? It is what makes us special. Without this, we are just another restaurant. We are—” Angelica noticed us then, and her tirade was cut short. “Ladies. How lovely. Let me make you something to eat.”
“Hi, Angelica. We’re not here for lunch. We’re looking for some information.”
“Speak for yourself,” Grace said. “I’m starving.”
“Grace,” I said firmly, but Angelica only laughed.
“We can eat and talk at the same time, no? What sounds good?”
“Anything you make,” I said as my stomach rumbled. No matter how full I might be, being around Angelica always made me hungry.
Angelica looked around, and her gaze settled back on the dough. “I normally let it cure, but let’s have fresh pasta.”
“Wonderful,” I said as I took a seat by the counter. Grace was quick to join me.
“Do you mind if I work while we talk?” Angelica asked. It was clear to see where her daughters got their good looks, even if Angelica had sampled too much of her own divine cooking over the years to fit into any of their dresses.
After she measured out flour and a pinch of salt, Angelica made a reservoir, cracked a couple of eggs, and added them to the mix. As she stirred the eggs into the flour, she turned to me. “Go ahead and ask. I can talk while I work.”
“We’re looking for Nancy Patton,” I said.
A cloud crossed her normally sunny face.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did I say something wrong?”
“That woman is poison,” Angelica said with passion as she mixed the eggs more and more thoroughly into the flour. When she was satisfied with the blending, she added a teaspoon of cold water, stirred again, added a touch more water, and when it was mixed in, as well, she nodded as she turned to her daughter. “That’s perfect just the way it is. Do you see that, Sophia?”
“Yes,
Grace nodded as we got out, but as soon as we approached the door, she said, “Too bad they aren’t open yet.”
“I’m not giving up that easily.” I pounded on the door, and a minute later, Maria, one of the daughters, came out. “Sorry, we’re closed … oh, Suzanne, how are you?” Maria was an olive-skinned beauty like her sisters and mother, and I always enjoyed seeing her.
After she hugged me, I said, “I’m good. How’s your mother?”
“She’s on the warpath at the moment, but at least I’m not the one in her sights,” Maria said with a smile. “Hi, Grace,” she said as she glanced over at my friend.
“Hey, Maria. Sorry to just barge in like this.”
She smiled. “Friends and diversions are always welcome. How can we help?” We’d stepped inside the restaurant, shutting out the strip mall outside and entering a world with a sparkling fountain, deep red carpet, and faded brass fixtures. The windows were covered with heavy draperies, and the bright April sun was completely blocked out.
“We’re looking for information about someone here in Union Square,” I said.
Maria nodded. “You should ask Momma. She knows everyone around here. Back this way; she’s in the kitchen,” she said as she led us past the tables and through the swinging doors.
The change in atmosphere was striking, and instant. There was real brightness in the kitchen, with stainless steel everywhere and strong overhead lights illuminating the place as if it were an operating room. Angelica was chastising one of her daughters as we walked in, the two of them leaning over a marble slab while working dough, as Antonia looked on. Angelica was lecturing her youngest. “Sophia, you have to be gentle with the dough. It responds to the emotion you have while you’re creating it.”
“It’s just pasta,” Sophia said, and I saw Maria and Antonia both wince.
Angelica suddenly dropped the ball of dough she’d been working with her hands on the slab. “Just pasta? It is what makes us special. Without this, we are just another restaurant. We are—” Angelica noticed us then, and her tirade was cut short. “Ladies. How lovely. Let me make you something to eat.”
“Hi, Angelica. We’re not here for lunch. We’re looking for some information.”
“Speak for yourself,” Grace said. “I’m starving.”
“Grace,” I said firmly, but Angelica only laughed.
“We can eat and talk at the same time, no? What sounds good?”
“Anything you make,” I said as my stomach rumbled. No matter how full I might be, being around Angelica always made me hungry.
Angelica looked around, and her gaze settled back on the dough. “I normally let it cure, but let’s have fresh pasta.”
“Wonderful,” I said as I took a seat by the counter. Grace was quick to join me.
“Do you mind if I work while we talk?” Angelica asked. It was clear to see where her daughters got their good looks, even if Angelica had sampled too much of her own divine cooking over the years to fit into any of their dresses.
After she measured out flour and a pinch of salt, Angelica made a reservoir, cracked a couple of eggs, and added them to the mix. As she stirred the eggs into the flour, she turned to me. “Go ahead and ask. I can talk while I work.”
“We’re looking for Nancy Patton,” I said.
A cloud crossed her normally sunny face.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did I say something wrong?”
“That woman is poison,” Angelica said with passion as she mixed the eggs more and more thoroughly into the flour. When she was satisfied with the blending, she added a teaspoon of cold water, stirred again, added a touch more water, and when it was mixed in, as well, she nodded as she turned to her daughter. “That’s perfect just the way it is. Do you see that, Sophia?”
“Yes,
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