Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2) (5 page)

After a quick breakfast, Sofia and Nicholas took the subway
to the Whitehall Terminal in Lower Manhattan. They got the tickets and waited
for the boat to Staten Island to arrive.

“This is great,” Sofia said as the
boat was leaving the harbor. “Now, we’ll have a view of New York from the water.”
It was a pleasant surprise for her. Here was Manhattan in its glory, including
the new tower on Ground Zero where the terrorists had destroyed the twin towers
of the World Trade Center. Sofia felt the new structure was a little over the
top—interesting but too grandiose. Nicholas agreed. However, they enjoyed the
view of the Statue of Liberty, the Hudson River, and the surrounding area.

Sofia gazed eagerly toward Staten
Island, which became visible as the fog lifted. “It’s nippy,” she said, zipping
up her down vest and hugging her arms.

“Let’s go inside,” Nicholas
suggested. They went into the cabin and sat down next to a window.

The ride took about thirty
minutes. When they arrived at the station on Staten Island, they got off the
boat and waited in the entrance hall. Mario had told Nicholas he was going to
hold up a sign with the family name.

“There he is.” Sofia motioned with
her head toward a young man holding up a cardboard sign with
Segantino
written
on it.

Nicholas waved and the man started
toward them. He was about Sofia’s height, slim, with longish dark hair that
curled slightly over the collar. The color of his hair and his dark brown, almost
black, eyes reminded Sofia of the photo she had seen of Angelo. He was
definitely part of the Segantinos. She judged him to be in his thirties.

“Hi there. I’m Mario.” He hugged
Nicholas and slapped him on the back. He looked Sofia up and down and smiled.
“Pleased to meet you. So, you are the beautiful wife.” He hugged her, then
stepped back.

“Sorry, guys, about missing you
yesterday. I don’t want to pass the buck, but Uncle Giuseppe gave me the wrong
date.”

“No problem,” Nicholas said and
gave Sofia a quick glance.

They left the terminal and Mario
pointed his key at a sporty-looking BMW to turn off the alarm.
He must be
wealthy
, Sofia thought.

“Sorry about the mess.” Mario
grabbed a bunch of books and a few empty Starbucks coffee paper cups. He threw
the cups in a trash bin nearby and tossed the books onto the back seat. “Just
move them over,” he said to Nicholas who opened the back door.

“Are you an engineer?” Nicholas
asked as he picked up one of the books. Sofia, sitting in front, turned to
glance at the title, something about electrical engineering.

“Yeah,” Mario said. “I’m one of
few members of the family who went to college. I work for a company called
Arup. It’s a good place. Lots of opportunities for continuing education.” He
started the car and drove along a narrow road, then eased his way onto a
freeway going south toward Rosebank where the family lived.

“So, how’s life in California?”
Mario asked.

“Busy but great,” Nicholas said.

“I really want to visit you guys
sometime. I was in San Francisco on business last year, but I was too busy with
work.” Mario shrugged.

“Yes, come on by. You’d enjoy it,”
Sofia said.

“You know, my dad orders wine from
your estate,” Mario said. “He gets a discount from you guys. He really loves
your wine. Well, we all do.”

“That’s great to hear,” Nicholas
said. “You should visit us. I only vaguely remember one member of our New York
relatives. I think it was … I guess your uncle? Giuseppe?”

“Oh, yes, the mobster.” Mario
grinned.

“What?” Sofia stared at Mario.

He laughed. “Just kidding. It’s
become his nickname. We only use it among ourselves and behind his back. He
must’ve been a real troublemaker as a young guy. He’s a fairly straight arrow
now.”

“He’s Grandpa’s and Great-Uncle
Angelo’s cousin,” Nicholas said.

Mario nodded. “I heard you’re
looking for Angelo. My father mentioned it.”

“Well, yes, a few things happened
lately that makes it important to find him. Or, at least, find out where he is
or was. We don’t even know if he’s still alive,” Nicholas said.

“I doubt we know much.” Mario
wrinkled his forehead. “But perhaps my parents and Uncle Giuseppe can tell you
more. I’m really out of the loop with our … well, let’s say, infamous family
story.” Mario glanced at Sofia with a twinkle in his eye.

She liked Mario. He seemed intelligent
and sophisticated. Perhaps Grandpa Martin painted the reputation of the
relatives in Staten Island somewhat too bleak.

“Here we are,” Mario said. “Good
old Rosebank.”

“It’s lovely here,” Sofia said, as
they drove through the quaint downtown neighborhood with old-fashioned-looking
stores, a few coffee shops, and a furniture store. The houses had a Victorian
flair and reminded Sofia a little bit of San Francisco.

“Yes, it’s still a nice
neighborhood,” Mario said. “It’s changed quite a bit. Originally, it was mainly
an Italian-American community, but a lot of other ethnic groups have moved in
since. It’s a very mixed batch. I like it.”

He stopped the car in a street
just one block away from the waterfront and parked it in a driveway before an
older two-story home with a yard. They got out of the car and Mario unhooked
the gate to the yard. The door to the house opened and a black-and-white dog
jumped outside and raced toward them. “Luna,” an older man, who appeared in the
doorway, called in a sharp voice.

The dog stopped and Mario grabbed
it by the collar. “Don’t worry. She’s friendly.”

Luna, apparently a mix between a
Labrador and a few other breeds, sniffed Sofia’s gently outstretched hand, then
let her pet her head. Soon, she wagged her tail.

In the meantime, the man had
walked down the few steps from the house and approached them. He was
immediately followed by a woman about his age, in her late fifties, Sofia
presumed. The man gave a friendly nod and the woman smiled at them.

“My parents, Nino and Rosa,” Mario
said.

“Well, hi there.” Rosa hugged
Nicholas. “Look at you. Handsome fellow.” She then turned to Sofia. “And your
lovely wife. Welcome.” Unlike her husband who was tall and slim, she was short
and chubby. She had curly black hair and lively, brown eyes. To Sofia, she
looked like the quintessential Italian
mamma
.

Nino and Nicholas hugged each
other. “It’s been a long time,” Nino said with a smile. He put his hand on
Nicholas’s shoulder. “You were a little tike when I saw you last.”

“I know, we’re all getting older,”
Nicholas said.

“And welcome to the newest
addition of the infamous Segantino clan.” Nino embraced Sofia.

Sofia liked Mario’s family right
away. In fact, she understood Martin’s misgivings about them less and less. His
feelings for Angelo must have twisted his judgment a little. He seemed to blame
the New Yorkers for some of the stuff Angelo did.

Rosa patted her arm. “Let’s go
inside. We’re waiting for Giuseppe and then we’ll have lunch.

They stepped into the house, which
was fairly large and modestly but tastefully furnished. Some pictures on the
wall reminded Sofia of Italy. The house was a block away from the bay. From the
balcony of the living room, they were able to see the Verrazano Narrows Bridge
and parts of Brooklyn and Manhattan.

“What a view!” Sofia said.

“Yes, the view is one of the perks
of living here,” Rosa agreed. “I love to sit here in the early morning and
watch the fog hover over the bay. Mysterious.”

They all stood by the balcony door
and watched the scenery. The surface of the water sparkled in the sunlight. Small
and large boats were gliding through the bay. Then, barking and a loud voice
interrupted the quiet moment. They walked through the living room to the front
door. In the yard, a short, plump man was wrestling playfully with Luna.

“Damn beast,” he said in a booming
voice. He climbed the few steps and came inside.

“Ah,” he shouted and pointed at
Nicholas. “Our illustrious relatives from the Golden State are here. What an
honor.” He bowed ceremoniously, then slapped Nicholas on the back.

“You must be Uncle Giuseppe,”
Nicholas said.

Giuseppe opened his arms. “The one
and only.”

“This is my wife, Sofia.” Nicholas
touched Sofia’s arm.

Giuseppe’s lips curled into a
grin. “What in heaven made you marry into this utterly crazy family? What were
you thinking? Such a beautiful woman. You could’ve had anyone.”

Sofia opened her mouth, but before
she could utter a word, Giuseppe laughed out loud and hugged her. “Don’t mind
me. Welcome to the family.”

Sofia was surprised again at the
jovial welcome the New York family gave them.

They sat down to eat a delicious meal of chicken in Marsala
sauce, potatoes, zucchini squash, and salad. Nino poured them a glass of red
wine and Sofia saw that it was a bottle of their estate wine.

“Only the best for the relatives
from the Golden State.” Giuseppe raised his glass to Sofia and Nicholas.

“This is an excellent lunch. Thank
you. It reminds me of Italy,” Sofia said.

“Thanks.” Rosa smiled. “We try to
keep some of the traditions of our original homeland alive. One of them is the
food, although, unfortunately, we Italian Americans are as much into junk food
as everyone else.”

“Come on, Mom, that’s not true. We
hardly ever had junk food when I was a kid,” Mario protested.

“Well, I try to keep us healthy,”
his mother said.

“Italy, hmm.” Giuseppe faced Sofia
and Nicholas. “This reminds me. Martin told me about the skeleton.”

“Yes,” Nicholas said. “And that
brought up the question of Great-Uncle Angelo.”

Giuseppe was quiet for a while.
“It’s a sad chapter in our lives.” He got up, fetched his jacket, and pulled an
envelope out of its pocket. He gave it to Nicholas.

“That’s the last we heard of him.”

The envelope contained a one-page note. Nicholas handed the
envelope to Sofia and read the short letter out loud.

Dear Giuseppe, I’m in Italy. Keep it a secret. You can
tell Martin and Maria, but please tell them not to come looking for me. I’m
fine. Hope everything is okay with you and the family.

“Wow!” Nicholas rubbed his
forehead. “Not much, and this is the only sign of life you’ve had from him?” He
glanced at the others. They nodded.

“Yes, and it just arrived a few
days before you got here. But look at the postmark.” Nino motioned at the
envelope Sofia held.

“It was mailed in Italy … in the
Piedmont somewhere … but this was what? Eleven years ago.” Sofia looked at the
others, stunned.

“How is that possible?” Nicholas
stared at the envelope Sofia handed him.

“We don’t know,” Rosa said. “Giuseppe
took it to the post office and asked. They claimed that they only received it
now.”

“No telling where it was held up,”
Giuseppe added. “Could be in Italy, could be here.”

“Gee, what does this mean?”
Nicholas wondered. “One thing we know for sure. Eleven years ago, Uncle Angelo
was still alive and lived in Italy. Well, it’s at least something. Did you tell
Grandpa Martin?”

Giuseppe shook his head. “We
figured since you were going to be here, we’d give it to you.”

Nicholas put the note on the
table. “I’ll let him know. He really misses Angelo and now with all the
suspicions floating around, we need to find him.”

“I’m going to be in Italy for a
few weeks,” Sofia said. “Perhaps, I can find out more. At least, we have the
name of the town in the Piedmont. Here it says … Bardonico. I’ve never heard of
it, but my family in Italy may know.”

“Hmm, sounds like you’re looking
for a needle in a haystack,” Mario said. “Even if you find the place, it
doesn’t mean the letter was mailed in the same town where Angelo lived. Since
he wanted to be incognito, he may have mailed it from a different place.”

“Yes, besides, he may not live
there anymore,” Giuseppe added.

“Still,” Sofia said. “It’s better
than nothing. This is the first clue. I’m getting excited.”

“Just be careful, Sofia,” Giuseppe
said. “We don’t know what happened to Angelo. If he continued his way of life,
he may be involved with some questionable or even dangerous characters.”

“I hope not,” Sofia said. “Anyway,
finding an address shouldn’t be that dangerous.”

“I need to let Grandpa know.”
Nicholas looked pensively at the note. “Can I keep this?”

Rosa nodded. “Of course. I hope
this will have a positive ending.”

“I hope so, too,” Giuseppe said
quietly. “But I’m not convinced.”

“Tell me more about Great-Uncle
Angelo,” Nicholas said eagerly. “How was he when he was here? What do you know
about him … and about Grandpa Martin?”

Giuseppe sighed. “It was a
difficult time for both of them. And I don’t feel proud of the role I played
during that time.”

“Let’s have dessert and coffee
first,” Rosa suggested. She brought in a homemade chocolate cake and a bowl
with whipped cream, while Nino poured the espresso from a sturdy Italian
Bialetti pot.

Nicholas took a bite of a large
piece of cake. “That’s delicious.”

“And whipped cream made from
scratch,” Sofia added.

“Oh, yes, I don’t like the one in
the can,” Rosa said.

They ate in silence for a while.
Nicholas finished his cake and coffee fast and was eager to find out more about
the history of his relatives.

As if Giuseppe had read his mind,
he drank his espresso in one gulp, put the cup down, and wiped his mouth with a
napkin. “Well, back to Angelo and Martin.”

He put his elbows on the table and
folded his hands. “Angelo was a troubled child. I was a kid myself back then, a
couple of years older than him. Martin, on the other hand, was studious, quiet,
and very serious.”

“He still is rather serious,”
Sofia murmured.

“Hasn’t changed much, at least not
in that respect,” Nicholas said with a chuckle. “But he does have a sense of
humor. But go on.”

“Yes, serious. Well, he had to
grow up too fast. His mother died when he was only eighteen and Angelo was
eight. So Martin became a kind of surrogate father and mother for his younger
brother.”

“Was nobody else helping?” Sofia
asked. “That’s a big responsibility for a young man.”

“Oh, yes, the whole family pitched
in from what I remember. There was always an aunt or uncle around. But still,
Angelo needed a mother and a father, a firm hand.

“Now Angelo had been a difficult
boy all along, but when his mother died, he went to pieces. He didn’t even know
his father because I think he died shortly after Angelo was born and before the
family moved to the United States.”

“You mentioned you played a role
in this you aren’t proud of,” Nicholas said.

“Yes, well, I was wild and did all
kinds of stupid things together with my friends. You know, the kind of stuff
that could get you into trouble with the authorities if you get caught. And
doing them without getting caught was our goal in life at the time.” Giuseppe
shrugged. “Nothing major: shoplifting, stealing candy and comics in the store,
graffiti, smoking, that kind of thing.”

Giuseppe grimaced and ran his hand
through his short salt-and-pepper hair. “Trouble was, Angelo admired me. I was
the boss of a group of wild kids, and he followed right along. I was not the
kind of friend Angelo needed during that vulnerable time in his life. That’s
what I blame myself for.”

“You were a kid yourself,” Rosa
said.

“Still, I knew better. Anyway, I
eventually straightened out, but Angelo ended up in juvie hall for some time.”

“And Grandpa?” Nicholas asked.

“Martin went to college and did
really well. After college, he worked in an accounting firm. Then all of a
sudden, he decided to move to California. He had a friend who’d started a
vineyard. Martin felt it would be a fresh beginning for him, and particularly
for Angelo.”

Rosa brought another round of
coffee, and Nino opened a bottle of liquor.

“Grappa anybody?” he asked.
Giuseppe nodded while the others shook their head. Nino poured two small
glasses.

“I didn’t keep in touch with them
after they moved,” Giuseppe said. “Martin and I weren’t on the best of terms.
He blamed me for some of the crap Angelo did, and he may have been justified.
Later, I heard though that things improved and they did quite well for a while.
And then everything went down the tubes again.”

“That’s when Elvira died, right?”
Sofia asked. “We found her diary.”

“I think so, yes,” Nino said. “And
then Angelo disappeared.”

“Didn’t he come here first after
he left California?” Nicholas asked.

“Yes, he stayed with us for about
two weeks,” Giuseppe said. “He said something bad had happened and he needed to
disappear. We tried to find out what it was, but he wouldn’t say. He was really
shaken up. He asked me if I was still in touch with someone from our family in
Italy. I gave him the name of a friend of his father, the only person I still
knew of. But I didn’t know if the man was still alive. And then, one day Angelo
was gone. Didn’t leave any message, just a note, saying not to worry about
him.”

“And now, his friend’s skeleton
showed up on our property and we’re in the middle of this mess.” Nicholas smirked.
“Thanks, Uncle Angelo.”

It was quiet for a while,
everybody seemed deep in thought.

Giuseppe cleared his throat. “You
know, burying someone’s body on one’s property is a typical mobster thing.”

Nicholas stared at him. “How do
you know?”

Giuseppe shrugged. “Read it
somewhere.”

Nicholas waited for him to go on,
but he didn’t. Mario glanced at Nicholas, gave a quick smile, and raised his
eyebrows.

“How morbid,” Rosa said.