This is dedicated to the Cartinelli fans who thought Peggy and Angie deserved more. I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just the original ones. Fact: I'm always late to the party.
New York City. April, 1947.
It was a busy day in the L&L automat as Angie Martinelli, one of the waitresses, walked over to a booth to top up a customer's coffee and stopped in her tracks. The revolving door had just stopped spinning and for once in a long while, she was happy to see who it was that came in to the restaurant.
It had been three days since she first saw the brunette woman, and she couldn't believe her luck. It's not as if the L&L were any different than any of the other automats, except for maybe the pie, that was indeed special. 'If I had a quarter to spare,' she thought, 'I'd play it on the numbers.' The woman in question, quickly looked around, somewhat disappointedly and then made her way straight to the counter. Angie made a point to man the counter for the rest of the shift so that she could get some more time with her today.
That first day she had seen her was a long one for Angie because Myra had called in sick again and she had to pull a double. She wasn't too upset about it; she didn't really have anything better to do, she surmised. Besides, the woman who had come in looking like she knew what she was about, nodded her head when Angie asked, "Coffee?" and had silently thanked her with such a warm smile that it made any cares (namely that she was working her second double shift in as many days) seemingly melt away.
Angie had been just about to ask her what she wanted to eat, but that creep over at the booth had called for her and the woman smiled knowingly and said, "I can wait," with an English accent that intrigued her. After that, it had gotten so busy that she didn't have a chance to talk to her again because Carla had come in and took over the counter, which meant that Angie was now on booths. She wasn't completely sure why she was intrigued. For lack of a better explanation, she put it down to the fact that since almost the moment she could read, she was a bit of an Anglophile, but mostly she had to admit it was because of the thing she dare not give voice to; so she went about her business like nothing had changed. But it did change, and Angie, though she was loathed to admit it, knew that there was something special about that woman, and she knew she couldn't let her leave without getting to know her at least a little better. Twenty minutes later, she looked towards the counter and was disappointed when she saw the brunette woman was no longer at the counter. 'Oh well, c'est la vie,' Angie thought with a sigh as she started clearing a particularly messy booth. It was recently vacated by a party of guys, who had ordered copious amounts of food, peppered her for most of the night with insults couched as flattery, and only gave left her a ten-cent tip. "Crumb-bums," she mumbled, as she pocketed the coin.
Seeing that same woman come in just now, with her perfectly tailored blue suit, gleaming white starched shirt and red lipstick, made Angie quickly top up her current customer's cup of coffee and hurry over to that part of the counter.
"What'll it be for you, English?" she asked, while simultaneously taking the pencil out from her hair and the guest check pad out of her apron pocket.
"Coffee black, and…" The woman perused the menu quickly. "…a sandwich, I think. What do you recommend?" She looked at Angie, who tried her best not to get sucked into her gaze.
"Stay away from the chopped chicken liver and egg, if you have a date later," she thought about it and added, "…or in the next week as a matter of fact. You'll be belching that up for days."
The English woman laughed at Angie's blunt but easy manner and waited for another recommendation.
"I'm serious," Angie said, and then realized the woman was waiting for more. "Tomato and bacon is good," She pointed to a spot on the menu with her pencil. "My favorite is the corned beef on rye with swiss, little mustard…pickle on the side, heaven on earth."
"That sounds really good but…I don't suppose you have any cucumber sandwiches?"
"Only when the King and Queen are in town," Angie said, with a wry smile and a quick wink. "But we have cucumbers and bread; I could wrestle up a couple."
"That would be lovely," The smile that she gave Angie made her heart do that thing she was trying not to have it do. "Could you be a dear and half it with the tomato and bacon?"
"You mean half a cucumber sandwich and half a tomato and bacon?"
"If it's not too much trouble," The woman said in a way that Angie knew she really meant it.
"No trouble at all. What kinda spread?"
"Spread?"
"On the sandwiches, mayo, mustard?"
"Oh, butter on the cucumber and…"
"Mayo on the tomato and bacon," Angie said, nodding and writing down the order then quickly putting the pad in her apron while reaching for the menu in the woman's hand. The woman didn't give it up right away and it made Angie look at her.
"My name's Peggy, Peggy Carter, and you are?" Those chocolate colored eyes looking at her with a glint in them, made her forget for a moment what had been asked of her. "Name?" Peggy asked, with an encouraging smile. There was that flutter again.
Angie pointed to her name tag and finally managed to say, "Angie," after unsticking her tongue from her increasingly dry mouth. "Angie Martinelli."
"Oh, I see," Peggy said, with another sweet smile as Angie cursed her heart. "Thank you, Angie," finally letting go of the menu.
"Not a problem," Angie smiled back, trying not to go too big in the teeth-showing department. "I'll go put in your order."
Truth be told, that smile Peggy gave her and the courteous way she had introduced herself, was like a balm to Angie's angry, burnt soul. The very same soul that had come to mid-town Manhattan six months ago with such high hopes of Broadway stardom, that lately, had been dashed by one rejected audition after another. Those hopes weren't completely gone as of yet, but working in the L&L for the last few months had started to wear on her, especially with one rude customer after another trying her patience over the food she didn't cook. Tonight though, as she walked to the kitchen, she had an extra spring in her step.
Angie knew Mal, the cook and owner of the L&L, was in a special mood today, so instead of putting the check on the carousel in the window, she walked the special order it into the kitchen. She surmised correctly that it would have him steaming. As she was describing to him how he would just make the two half sandwiches out of one slice of bread each, she caught a glance at Peggy who was looking in the paper and a slight grin crept its way onto her face.
It was wiped away quickly by Mal's griping.
"We don't even have cucumber sandwiches on the menu! I keep telling you, Angie, you have to get them to stick to the menu."
"We have cucumbers on the menu," Angie said, unblinkingly.
"In the salad, but who puts them on a sandwich? Without meat or cheese, I might add!"
"You haven't traveled the world? They do in England."
"They're weird over there," Mal waved his butter knife to make his point. "And don't tell me I haven't traveled the world. I was there for two weeks before they shipped us to France. They stuff a sheep's stomach full of God-knows-what and call it dinner."
"Haggis, and that's from Scotland."
"Haggis, Shmaggis, I don't care if it's from Timbuktu! It's weird, I sez," he shouted to Angie's turned back.
"Cut the crusts off of the cucumber one," she shot back and could just hear him curse under his breath, as she went out of the swinging door to talk to Peggy.
"Your order will be out in a jiff. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a tea?"
Peggy smiled and shook her head as she put her cup in the saucer, "Coffee's five cents cheaper, and the tea here is like dried oak leaves."
Angie gave an agreeing nod, "I think it's the stuff they fished out of Boston Harbor after the Revolution. They give it out for spite."
Peggy laughed and then shuddered as she thought about old tea that had been steeping in the harbor.
Angie didn't want the conversation to end, but she also was aware that she was hovering, so she started to wipe the already wiped counter adjacent to Peggy.
"I usually get to know my customers if I see them more than once, so what's your story, Peggy? Been in The Big Apple long? Come with family?" Angie cringed a little inside, she thought her line of questioning might be too forward and when she was nervous, she tended to blurt all at once.
"I've been here a few months; came over for work, after the war. My Mum and Dad are still back at home, in England."
"Met a fella in the Army?" Angie asked, trying to get it over with as quick as possible.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Peggy's face darkened and Angie immediately regretted asking, she knew that look.
"Oh, I shouldn't have…"
"No, it's alright. I mean, it has been over two years since…"
"Say no more, I'll get you a piece of key lime pie. On the house," she added and then quickly turned on her heel, not taking any protest from Peggy.
Angie heard Mal's call for her and went to the window. He sneered at her, "On the house, huh? That pie's coming out of your wages," he said, as he angrily put the plate in the window for her to take.
"It's a quarter, Mal," Angie shot back, and took out a piece of key lime from the icebox under the counter, "I've been pulling a double for the last two days; I'm practically rolling in it," she said, with a defiant shrug as she deftly handled both plates and walked over to Peggy with a smile on her face, that she couldn't seem to get to stop spreading.
"Here you go, Peggy. Enjoy."
"Thanks, Angie," Peggy beamed. "That pie does look lovely. I hope you didn't go to any trouble." There was the heart flutter again, Angie thought maybe she needed to see the doctor.
"If it was trouble, you wouldn't be getting it, English," she said, with a wry grin. "That pie is the best in the city, by the way. Junie makes them fresh every day," she nodded, with pride towards one of the ladies in the kitchen.
"I'll have to remember that."
"So, you mentioned you came over for work. Not a factory, I hope? I hear for every two guys that come back from overseas, five girls lose their jobs."
"No, not a factory per se. I work for the telephone company."
"New York Bell?"
"That's the one."
"Can you get someone to fix the one in the booth over there? Some yutz pulled the receiver clean out of the box because his woman left him for some rich guy. Who 'Dear John's someone over the telephone? I tell ya, people are getting so nuts lately…"
Peggy blanched a little at what Angie just said, she finally asked, "Not…Howard Stark?"
"I don't know, but the way I hear it, he's got women in all corners of the world, so come to think of it, it coulda been," she shrugged and moved on. "Anyway, Mal said the phone people told him two weeks before they can get anyone out. I know we just met and all, but I thought maybe you could use some influence?"
"I wish I had some," Peggy said, a little forlornly.
"Meatheads keeping you from moving up?"
"Something like that."
"Isn't that always the way?" Angie looked genuinely concerned for her new friend.
"Miss, can I get a menu please?" A customer who had just sat down at a booth called in Angie's direction. She looked around and didn't see Carla who was supposed to be on booths.
"I'll see what I can do," Peggy said, as Angie moved to get a menu for the customer.
"If it's not too much trouble," Angie replied in the same way that Peggy had earlier about the sandwiches.
Peggy wasn't sure, but she thought she heard a slight mimicry of her accent, and instead of being insulted by it, it made another smile creep across her lips. Angie had been the first person since she met, her current roommate, Colleen, that had been genuinely nice to her and in this bustling city these days, that was a rare thing.
The days passed by like this for a couple of weeks, Peggy would stop in for her breakfast, or dinner and sometimes to quickly pick up lunch for the boys back at the office. Angie wasn't always there, but when she was, she'd make certain she was able to get in a few words with Peggy, especially if she wasn't covering that part of the restaurant. However, towards the end of that first week, Angie started noticing that Peggy would make sure she knew which part was hers to serve, and sit there exclusively. Or at least that's what she hoped was happening.
Unfortunately, in those weeks, some new developments started to worry Angie about her new friend. One, chiefly being a man with an English accent who was showing up at the L&L and sitting in the booth right behind Peggy. They had obviously wanted it to look like they weren't paying attention to each other, but Angie watched the happenings over in that area of the restaurant with more than a little interest, and she could tell they were having conversations. The other development was that Peggy looked increasingly troubled this particular day, but she didn't mention to Angie what it was, so when the fancy man came in and he and Peggy were doing their covert talking, she had hovered over the wall wiping down the windows of the food cubbies on the automat side and listened.
"Did she have any family?"
"She lost a brother at Guadalcanal…I'd only known her a few months," Angie could hear the sadness in Peggy's voice. "I needed a place to stay…I didn't know anyone…"
Suddenly, Mal appeared in Angie's line of sight and she tried not to notice him.
"Hey…you polish that window anymore and you're gonna put a hole in it," he said, before taking out one of the sandwiches for his coffee break.
Angie silently dismissed him and strained to catch what Peggy was saying.
"…habit of losing those closest to me. Perhaps 'losing' is too nice a word…"
"Angie," Mal said, sternly, forcing her to look at him. "The windows are spic and span. I said I need you to refill the sugar containers up at the counter." He pointed to the opposite wall as he shook his head walking away and mumbled, "I shoulda never hired an actress. Who knows what's in their heads?" he sighed as he took his paper and went to a booth. "Guess I got a soft spot for the theater."
When Angie was able to tune back in, the man was talking low, just out of comprehension range, she wished Mal hadn't broken her concentration; after a few moments she could finally hear what he was saying.
"I read your war record. You are a credit to your profession. If the men in your office can't see that then they are fools. You were trying to do something good, and I believe you accomplished it."
"But was it worth it?" Peggy asked, pleadingly.
"I don't think we'll know that until the job is truly done."
Angie could see Mal glaring at her, so she finally had to stop listening or else incur his wrath and get found out for spying on Peggy and her fancy man.
She was very disappointed in having to stop, her curiosity was piqued to the highest of heights. She knew Peggy had been in the war, but she thought maybe she was just doing some desk job. Maybe something with communications which was why she now worked at the phone company. From what it sounded like; she had a really important role and how would that play into what she was helping Mr. Fancy with now?
She didn't want to be that person that spies on their friends, but she also wanted to know if maybe Peggy was hurting or in trouble. The English woman didn't give up much of herself, keeping everything close to the vest, regular poster woman for the famous British stiff upper lip. It was one of the things Angie admired about her as she got to know her, because she wished she could be more like that.
She filled the sugar containers and tried not to look at them as they continued their conversation, but every now and again she stole a few glances that way. Peggy sighed a few times and kept looking up to the ceiling, almost to ask its forgiveness. Angie again wished she knew what it was all about, and she hoped Peggy would be able to share it with her. The only thing that she had been able to gather was that she lost a friend, possibly a room-mate, but how she lost her, she didn't know. Her brow furrowed as she tried to piece together what little conversation she had heard. She dismissed the thought that it was some sort of a breakup right away. She didn't want to go down that line of thinking because that always led to disappointment when Angie realized they weren't like her. After she replayed the words and the sound of Peggy's voice over in her head, Angie guessed that her friend had recently died. Poor thing.
Myra came up to Angie from the side and said, "I'm here, Ange! You can go now." She was so loud it made Angie jump and she spilled some sugar. Myra laughed and said, "You're so jumpy, Martinelli! I get you every time!"
Mal, who had finished his break, put his dish and coffee cup in the bucket. "You're cleaning that up, Myra," he pointed at the smiling girl. "I ain't paying Angie overtime just because you like to get your kicks scaring the living daylights out of her."
"Tell your story walkin', Mal," she said, as she pointed her thumb towards the kitchen door. "For what you pay, it's a wonder any of us are still here." She looked at Angie and gave her a sideways hug. "Sorry, kid," she said, as the hug ended. "Hey, you better get going, don't you have another audition?"
"Yeah, you're right," Angie looked at her watch and sighed, "I'll just make the 5:45." Myra started cleaning the sugar from the counter and Angie went to the backroom to grab her coat and purse.
As Angie was leaving, she gave a last glance over in Peggy's direction, to her surprise, Peggy was watching her leave with what she hoped might be some disappointment at them not getting to speak more than they did. Angie gave her an encouraging smile that she hoped would also show she was one to be trusted with stories, emotions and comfort. She really didn't want to leave and wanted nothing more than to walk right up to Peggy's table, sit down and have her tell her everything about what she was saying to her man friend. She also wanted to know what he was to her. She wanted to know everything. But that wasn't really Angie's style. Well, it was completely her style, but she wasn't in the snooping business really, her friends usually confided in her, so she didn't have to do any prying, except the usual 'What's wrong?' but with Peggy she knew it would take more than that. So, with another look towards the back booth and a small nod goodbye, she sighed and made her way out of the door, walking quickly to the subway stop.
There was a bit of a chill in the air, and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. She couldn't stop thinking about what could be wrong with Peggy and what happened with her friend. Angie hoped for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, that the woman she was falling in love with would be able to confide in her soon. Her mind did a double take as she descended the stairs of the subway and she slowed her pace. She thought about that particular sentiment.
It wasn't that Angie was in love, exactly. She was just concerned for her new friend and wanted to be there for her to confide in. To share the burden of being a young female in a big city who wants to make it in their job. That was it.
Who was she kidding? She had seen Peggy and her heart had raced. And every time since she has had to fight off a huge smile when she sees or thinks about her, for fear she might give away her true feelings. Although she could admit that much, she dared not give a name to what she felt. Nine years ago, she tried to tell her best friend Nancy that she liked a girl, and Nancy stopped speaking to her in that way that friends sometimes do when they don't want to hurt your feelings, but it kills you inside all the same.
Then there was her first roommate, who after a year of mixed signals and missed opportunities, begged her to move in with her. And wouldn't you know it, that very same friend, after finally saying she thought she loved Angie, and spending many happy nights in her bed, up and got married six months later to a guy she had met in a dancehall.
Since then, she has made it a goal not to tell anyone that she prefers the company of women over men, and try as she might, definitely not to fall for anyone else. She feels it'll be simpler this way. It's one of the reasons she came to the city to live at The Griffith, and it's also the main reason she wants to be an actress. For one, she knows with absolute certainty that she can pretend to be someone that she's not, and secondly, she likes the free attitudes of most of the people involved in showbusiness. She just wished the people who were in charge of giving her a shot would see the talent that she knows she has so that she can get steady work. She doesn't have to be a star, although the pay would be welcomed, she just wants to be able to say that she had put her mind to something and made it happen. 'She can do it!' As the Rosie the Riveter poster used to tout. She can also be there as a friend for Peggy, listening to her troubles, giving advice, gossiping when needed, and providing a shoulder to cry on. As she steels her resolve and gets in the subway car, she's determined she's not going to fail this audition, and she's not going to fail her new friend.
But most of all, she's not going to fall in love. She hoped.
When she sees Peggy in her booth the next day, she's alone and Angie's happy for that. For all her steel and resolve yesterday, bombing her audition last night makes her feel like she needs to talk and get it out, and with no Mr. Fancy today in the booth behind, she'll be able to get in more conversation than just 'Hi, how are you? What'll you have?'. Plus, she might be able to get Peggy to talk about what's been troubling her lately.
As she comes out of the backroom, she spies yet another sullen and wistful look on Peggy's face, at whatever's in the paper. 'Okay, here goes," Angie thinks, as she crosses the restaurant quickly, 'I failed last night, but I don't have to fail today.' She does what she learned from Myra, and comes silently up from behind to look over Peggy's shoulder, not to scare her, but so she can see whatever it is that has her looking so forlorn. It's that Howard Stark guy splashed big and bold over the headline. Apparently, he's selling weapons to the enemy. 'Figures,' she thinks. Peggy had mentioned him that first day they got to know each other and her thoughts turn devastating, 'Maybe Peg is sweet on him, maybe he's stringing her along, telling her he's going to marry her and then stepping out with other dolls.' Angie quickly decided to turn Peggy's attention to the picture of the other man in the paper.
The dead one.
"I saw him once at a USO show in Passaic, you could eat him with a spoon," she said, putting the throaty need into her voice that she had used on one of her auditions the other day.
"Yes, I understand he was quite something," Peggy sounded even more sad than she had looked.
"Everything alright, English?" Angie moved to face her.
"Fine Angie, if you don't count work."
"Boys at the phone company giving you a hard time," she said, knowingly.
"No more than usual, it's just…during the war, I had a sense of purpose, responsibility. But now, I…connect the calls, but I never get a chance to make them, d'you know what I mean?"
Angie felt a true connection to that statement. She looked around conspiratorially before sitting down to tell Peggy about her audition downtown. She had meant the little pep talk as a way to show her that she shouldn't give up, just because the jerks in her life were trying to keep her down. She definitely did not mean to reveal that she had been checking out Peggy's legs. The oaf who called out for her to complain over his BLT was actually a welcomed distraction, hopefully to gloss over what she had just said.
Peggy however, was pretty sorry to see her slide out of the booth and go off to the loud, obnoxious man to invariably take punishment for something she didn't do. It was a lot of what Peggy had to deal with, and she was mostly sorry because Angie's pep-talk did more for her than she could have known. Even the bit about her legs.
That part had made her heart soar a little. Not that she wanted to be seen as a sexual object as such, but that someone noticed her for her, and not just a person that can fulfill an order. She saw a kindred spirit in Angie, one she had seen that first really busy day in the L&L, and one she kept coming in to get to know a little more about each time.
It was a spirit she recognized in Steve in 1943. And in 1940, in Geneviève.