The unknown adolescent boy who had slipped into the automat three minutes earlier was now currently involved in an energetic, furtive conversation with Angie, Peggy noted, swallowing her current sip of coffee. Watching over the rim of her mug, the SSR agent took stock of the young waitress, palms propped on the counter with her body rigid, face as severe as Peggy had ever seen it, practically setting the record for speedy, harsh whispering. The boy, with his back to Peggy, opposite from Angie's ever-present confidence, was drawn in on himself, fists clenched in the pockets of his trousers, small and unassuming. His hair brushed along the nape of his neck.
It was selfish of her, but Peggy wished she could hear what was being discussed.
"Hey! Martinelli!" The chef, red faced and overworked, suddenly snapped, making both the talkers and Peggy flinch, looming out from inside the kitchen, "We're not runnin' a free business – either the kid pays for food or he scats."
Angie swiveled around. "Hey, he's my nephew, okay? We won't be a sec – "
"Do I look like I give a damn?" The chef grunted. He was a piggish man, and Peggy's already low impression of him lowered even more. "He family enough you'd risk losin' your job fer?"
The kid's ears blushed in shame and embarrassment, and before Peggy fully knew what she was doing, unwilling to wait to see what Angie's response would be, she raised her hand, setting down her coffee and clearing her throat. "Uh, Angie," she called, loud enough to intrude on the exchange, instantly meeting Angie's gaze with her own as she turned around at the sound of her voice, "I'm finding myself open to company for the next few minutes. You know anyone…" She glanced surreptitiously at the boy now facing her, enough like Angie to probably honestly be her nephew, and raised her eyebrow, lips quirking up, "Willing to volunteer?"
Angie studied her. Her arms crossed over her chest. "English – "
"Hey," Peggy nodded at the empty space across from her, smiling at the boy who looked back at her curiously, "You hungry? They have some absolutely delectablesweets here." She glanced up at Angie again, taking in her hard blue eyes. "I hear your aunt," she didn't quibble before pausing, waiting for the kid to slide, slowly, haltingly onto the seat across from her, smiling as she took in the microscopic easing of Angie's expression, suddenly full of gratitude as she scurried over, pad and pencil clenched in her hands, "Baked an absolutely delightful pie for today."
'Thank you,' Angie mouthed, glaring at the space the scoffing chef had disappeared into. "You really don't mind…?" she articulated once facing the SSR agent again, expression pinched.
Peggy took a sip of her coffee. "Angie. Take the boy's order."
"I…" The boy's voice was low, but hopeful. "You really…?" When Peggy only smiled at him, he looked down, ostensibly clenching his hands in his lap as he muttered, shoulders pulling inward again, barely glancing up at his aunt, "Toast, please."
Peggy didn't urge him to order anything anymore substantial; she knew it wouldn't be appreciated.
It was only after Angie nodded, hurrying over to place the order, getting sidetracked by a customer clamoring for another refill of coffee, that Peggy tried to get the boy to look at her. "You're a Martinelli?" she asked inquiringly.
The boy shrugged. "Enough so. She's my aunt," he whispered as if it was a confession, validating the woman from earlier, and Peggy decided that was sufficient to stop her from probing further.
Taking another sip of her coffee, knowing she'd have to get it refilled soon, Peggy casually lay her forearms onto the table. "Surely you have a name of your own? I'm Peggy Carter." A beat. "Miss Carter if you must."
"Not Mrs.?" the boy quipped, looking up at her. His blue eyes were such like Angie's Peggy found herself staring at him.
"No." Peggy smiled crookedly, "No Mr. to my name." Maybe once upon a time there would have been, but now…
"Ilario."
Setting her coffee mug down, Peggy nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Ilario." When the boy didn't answer, gaze skittering along her face without attempting to start a dialogue, she rallied herself to wait for Angie for anything to happen; it was obvious the kid was either secretive to the point of antisocial, or unequipped to deal with those he didn't know.
Still, when the kid suddenly spouted, "I'm happy to owe you something for this," Peggy smiled at him.
"I'll hold you to that," she offered, meeting his eyes directly even as Angie slid a plate of buttered toast in front of him, plopping down next to him. "Goodness knows I may need a young man to do some things around the apartment I cannot." Mrs. Fry's rules notwithstanding.
Ilario smiled self-consciously, leaning immediately into Angie as he reached for the jam at the side of the table. "Your friend is nice," he muttered; Peggy pretended not to hear him.
Biting the corner of her lips, Angie knocked her shoulder against her nephew's, barely able to sweep her eyes along Peggy's. "Does she need anymore help?" she smiled fakely, as if for the chef's sake as he tromped around the counter's circumference across from them, her voice pinched.
Aware Angie wasn't talking about her, Peggy didn't react.
Ilario swallowed loudly. "What you're giving is perfect," he muttered. "That's why madre sent me. To thank you." He crunched into his toast.
Angie's uncommonly pale face eased, and Peggy realized, suddenly, just how off-kilter her friend must have been. "Good," Angie murmured back, patting Ilario's shoulder, blue eyes searing into Peggy's as they met again. Chin jutting as she refused to feel embarrassed for what was being revealed, the waitress finished, "But I'm here if she needs me." Her lips creased, pinching. "Promise."
Draining her coffee in lieu of exposing she was understanding anything that was going on, Peggy smiled serenely at the younger woman.
Half an hour later, the automat door sliding to a stop after Ilario pushed his way out, Angie fished inside her apron, pulling out a couple of pennies. "Here," she muttered, lips screwing up, having quickly tallied up the price of the boy's food.
Holding her hand up, Peggy tried to decline, but Angie stared at her, eyes hard, ungiving.
"Angie…"
Angie pushed the coins at her.
Opening her mouth, Peggy paused. There was something in the younger woman's expression… Sighing silently, she nodded, reaching out to take the coins.
"And don't you dare try to give me this back by way of tip," Angie said pointedly, refilling Peggy's mug once more with the carafe of fresh piping hot coffee she'd walked over.
Peggy laughed. "I wouldn't think of it," she demured, grinning.
Still, it was only after Angie had walked away that Peggy realized, staring down at the coins in her palm, smile creasing her lips, that she meant to honor that promise.
Thinking back to the young Ilario who'd sworn to pay her back someday, then to the unapologetic Angie who had stepped in, covering for him, Peggy slipped the pennies into her purse, gaze moving up to watch Angie across the room, dealing with other clientele. "Who would have thought," she murmured to herself, setting down her usual tip and standing up, smile crossing her lips, "Angie would be such a familial woman."
It was endearing.
Yes. Peggy gave the younger woman another smile, pulling her red felt hat onto her head as she exited the diner, smile widening as she didn't miss the affectionate wink Angie sent her way – very, very endearing.