Emma of 83rd Street by Audrey Bellezza EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Audrey Bellezza
- Language: English
- Genre: City Life Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
PROLOGUE
It was eight p.m. on Christmas Eve and in New York City that meant three
things were certain: the annual Woodhouse Christmas Party was in full swing,
the residents of East 83rd Street had already deemed it a roaring success, and Mr.
Woodhouse was staring at the buet table in his dining room in abject horror.
“My God, Emma,” he murmured. “How could you do this?”
Emma Woodhouse smiled and waved at Mrs. Crawford, who had just arrived
and was mingling with the familiar crowd under the archway of fairy lights over
the foyer. She didn’t have to follow her father’s gaze down to the carefully
curated array of organic canapés and gluten-free desserts to know what he was
glaring at.
“Dad, it’s just a cheesecake.”
“It’s an abomination.”
She had anticipated this. It happened last year when he demanded the calorie
count for the croquembouche that the caterers had decorated to look like a
Christmas tree. The year before that, he had admonished her sister Margo for
using real cream on a pavlova. This time, Emma was ready.
“But there’s two dierent fruit platters, too, see? And a vegetable tray on the
other end with whole wheat pita bread and hummus.”
“Hummus?” he asked hopefully, turning to look further down the table. But
then his expression deated. “It’s next to the sugar cookies.”
“Yes, but they’re Fran’s sugar cookies.”
He rubbed his temples. “Jesus…”
“They’re in the shape of angels, actually,” she said, biting back a smile.
“This isn’t funny, Emma. Do you know how much butter is in that recipe?”
She was about to tell him that yes, she obviously knew since they had been
making them every Christmas since the beginning of time, but before she had
the chance, a hand reached between them and grabbed her father’s shoulder.
“Henry, these cookies are amazing! Just amazing!” Mrs. Pawloski exclaimed,
waving a decapitated angel in her hand and dusting them with crumbs. “I think
this is probably my fth one! Can you believe it? Of course, it’s Christmas so
calories don’t count, at least that’s what I’m telling myself!”
“Helen, please be careful,” her father said, taking the cookie from her hand
and passing it to Emma as if she would know what to do with it. “The processed
sugar alone is enough to give you diabetes.”
Mrs. Pawloski laughed, a shrill sound that vibrated o Emma’s inner ear.
“Good Lord, if that’s true, then don’t you dare look in the kitchen! That pavlova
is going to send me to the hospital!”
Mr. Woodhouse turned to his daughter, his pale skin becoming even more
pallid. “Not again…”
Emma strained to keep a smile on her face as she motioned them both toward
the living room. “Why don’t you sit down by the re and I’ll get you something
to drink?”
“Tea,” Mr. Woodhouse said over his shoulder, as Mrs. Pawloski looped her
arm with his and started forward.
“I know,” Emma said.
“The chamomile.”
“I know.”
Emma watched as they disappeared into the crowded room and let out her
breath. That was a close call.
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