Read Online 666 Park Avenue by Gabriella Pierce - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gabriella Pierce
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he explained, and Jane bit her lip, remembering the mysterious name on the wall. The long-dead sister, the only daughter in her generation. Annette. “Besides,” he went on, and Jane blinked back into the moment, “she knows that I’m happy. What more could she want?”
Jane nodded. She was so used to Gran’s overbearing overprotectiveness that she probably couldn’t recognize a normal family dynamic when it was right in front of her. No doubt she would soon wonder how she had ever gotten along without such an involved and caring mother-figure.
Sofia shuffled into the kitchen, her wide eyes downcast. “Thank God,” Malcolm declared grandiosely to the tiny maid. “You’re just in time to save me from wrecking the place in an attempt to impress Jane. Would you whip me up one of those wonderful omelets of yours—sausage and peppers, please?”
He nodded encouragingly toward Jane, who found herself tongue-tied. Her usual breakfast was a cup of coffee—maybe with a croissant from her corner bakery if she had extra time. “Um, the same for me, please?”
Malcolm clucked his tongue and shook his head disapprovingly. “You hate peppers, Jane. Relax, you can have anything you want! Even that weird German ham you insist is better than bacon.” He held his palms up, as if the very idea was beyond him.
Jane felt her gray eyes go wide with hope. “Speck? And . . . um, maybe tomatoes?”
“Cherry, grape, plum, beefsteak, or green zebra, miss?” Sofia asked in a neutral tone as she pulled a butcher-paper packet from a pile of similar ones in the refrigerator. Even from where she was standing, Jane could see that it was clearly marked SPECK . She felt suddenly warm and comfortable all the way down to her toes.
“Whatever’s on top,” she smiled, and then jumped as her handbag seemed to come to life, rattling across the floor.
Malcolm looked at her oddly, but she quickly placed the bag’s strange behavior, and reached in to draw out her iPhone, which was apparently in the midst of a seizure. The number wasn’t in her contact list, but it was in Manhattan’s 212 area code. “Hello?”
“You’ve landed!” a vaguely familiar bubbly voice squealed. “Jane, this is Pamela! From Conran and Associates. Antoine’s friend?”
Jane tried to reply, but Pamela, in spite of apparently hoping for a response, did not seem to be inclined to pause long enough for one.
“Things are moving fast down here, so we need you to come in ASAP. Are you free today, two-ish?” Pamela finally paused, but Jane was so caught off-guard that she didn’t manage to speak in time. A horrified gasp came through the phone’s speaker. “Ohmigod, you’re still available, right ? We so urgently need to get this international division off the ground. You have to at least come in and hear my offer. Jane! Don’t commit to anyone else yet. Are you free at two?”
“Three,” Jane blurted finally, forcing her voice out into the tiny space allotted. “I can come at three.”
“Thank God. Forty-nine West Fourth, three p.m.”
The line clicked dead before Jane could say another word. She stared at the phone in her hand; the screen went dim. “I seem to have a job interview,” she announced thoughtfully. Then she caught up with the rush of Pamela’s words, and smiled happily. She had hoped to hit the ground running, so to speak, but things were moving even faster than she’d expected. And having something that got her out of the house, something that was just hers, would be a great way to keep from obsessing about reporters, witches, and fitting in with her new family-to-be.
“That’s great, honey!” Malcolm kissed the side of her head and set two sunny omelets onto the rough-hewn breakfast table. Jane noticed that Sofia had disappeared discreetly, passing the credit along to the man who couldn’t break an egg, and she marveled at how incredibly useful it must be to have good help for all the little things. No wonder Malcolm had
Jane nodded. She was so used to Gran’s overbearing overprotectiveness that she probably couldn’t recognize a normal family dynamic when it was right in front of her. No doubt she would soon wonder how she had ever gotten along without such an involved and caring mother-figure.
Sofia shuffled into the kitchen, her wide eyes downcast. “Thank God,” Malcolm declared grandiosely to the tiny maid. “You’re just in time to save me from wrecking the place in an attempt to impress Jane. Would you whip me up one of those wonderful omelets of yours—sausage and peppers, please?”
He nodded encouragingly toward Jane, who found herself tongue-tied. Her usual breakfast was a cup of coffee—maybe with a croissant from her corner bakery if she had extra time. “Um, the same for me, please?”
Malcolm clucked his tongue and shook his head disapprovingly. “You hate peppers, Jane. Relax, you can have anything you want! Even that weird German ham you insist is better than bacon.” He held his palms up, as if the very idea was beyond him.
Jane felt her gray eyes go wide with hope. “Speck? And . . . um, maybe tomatoes?”
“Cherry, grape, plum, beefsteak, or green zebra, miss?” Sofia asked in a neutral tone as she pulled a butcher-paper packet from a pile of similar ones in the refrigerator. Even from where she was standing, Jane could see that it was clearly marked SPECK . She felt suddenly warm and comfortable all the way down to her toes.
“Whatever’s on top,” she smiled, and then jumped as her handbag seemed to come to life, rattling across the floor.
Malcolm looked at her oddly, but she quickly placed the bag’s strange behavior, and reached in to draw out her iPhone, which was apparently in the midst of a seizure. The number wasn’t in her contact list, but it was in Manhattan’s 212 area code. “Hello?”
“You’ve landed!” a vaguely familiar bubbly voice squealed. “Jane, this is Pamela! From Conran and Associates. Antoine’s friend?”
Jane tried to reply, but Pamela, in spite of apparently hoping for a response, did not seem to be inclined to pause long enough for one.
“Things are moving fast down here, so we need you to come in ASAP. Are you free today, two-ish?” Pamela finally paused, but Jane was so caught off-guard that she didn’t manage to speak in time. A horrified gasp came through the phone’s speaker. “Ohmigod, you’re still available, right ? We so urgently need to get this international division off the ground. You have to at least come in and hear my offer. Jane! Don’t commit to anyone else yet. Are you free at two?”
“Three,” Jane blurted finally, forcing her voice out into the tiny space allotted. “I can come at three.”
“Thank God. Forty-nine West Fourth, three p.m.”
The line clicked dead before Jane could say another word. She stared at the phone in her hand; the screen went dim. “I seem to have a job interview,” she announced thoughtfully. Then she caught up with the rush of Pamela’s words, and smiled happily. She had hoped to hit the ground running, so to speak, but things were moving even faster than she’d expected. And having something that got her out of the house, something that was just hers, would be a great way to keep from obsessing about reporters, witches, and fitting in with her new family-to-be.
“That’s great, honey!” Malcolm kissed the side of her head and set two sunny omelets onto the rough-hewn breakfast table. Jane noticed that Sofia had disappeared discreetly, passing the credit along to the man who couldn’t break an egg, and she marveled at how incredibly useful it must be to have good help for all the little things. No wonder Malcolm had
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