Read Online The Glass Kitchen by Linda Francis Lee - Free Book Online Page A

seen her dad smile in, like, forever. Granted, he swallowed it back before it took hold. But she’d seen it.
    Whatever. It was a good sign. The only way to tell for sure if Portia could distract Dad was to have her over for dinner. Ariel had read on the Internet that you could tell a lot about a person by the way they ate. Did they throw salt over their shoulder if they spilled something? Did they chew with their mouth open? Did they tuck their napkin under their chin instead of putting them in their lap?
    She was pretty sure Portia would pass the test, because she was smart and funny. Plus there was the whole she can cook thing. If she invited Portia to dinner and asked her to bring a cake, even if the dinner turned out to be a train wreck, they’d at least get a dessert out of the deal.
    The only problem was that Ariel knew if she mentioned dinner to her dad, he’d never say yes. So really, why ask? On top of that, she had to do something, and fast. That morning she’d found a new guy’s name written all over Miranda’s journal.
    Dustin
    Dustin Ferris
    Mrs. Dustin Ferris
    Miranda was kind of young to be thinking Mrs. Anything. Hadn’t she heard about being a feminist, breaking glass ceilings, and keeping her own name? But it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Miranda liked some new guy named Dustin. Which explained why her mood was getting better. Though if their dad found out about it, things would get a whole lot worse.
    That was an even better reason to haul Portia upstairs and make her join them for dinner. Miss Potentially Bonkers Burger couldn’t be worse than another Family Night of Miranda ignoring Dad, and Dad pointedly not ignoring Miranda.
    Ariel bolted out of class feeling better despite the fact that she had to find a way to dig around in her family tree without anyone in her family knowing. She had a plan to distract her dad.
    As soon as Ariel got home, she wrote out the invitation.
    Dear Portia,
    You are totally invited to dinner.
    Tomorrow night with the Kane Family.
    7 P.M.
    Don’t be late.
    Your upstairs neighbor,
    Ariel Kane                     

    P.S. Feel free to bring a cake.

 
    Eight
    P ORTIA STOPPED DEAD with the urge to bake a cake.
    The need hit her hard and strong, surprising her. She hadn’t woken to, or felt a single stab of knowing since she’d made the meal that first day in the apartment. But the image of that same chocolate cake she had woken to that day circled through her, making it difficult to breathe.
    “Control, Portia,” she whispered. “You’re in control of your life now. Not Robert. And certainly not the knowing.”
    Despite the hamburger debacle, not to mention her dwindling bank account, she felt freer than she had in years. For the first time ever, she was living her own life. For the first time, she wasn’t at the mercy of things she couldn’t control. The money situation had to be solved, sure, but that didn’t negate the fact that she felt alive.
    Her walks through the streets of New York amazed her that she lived here. She didn’t care that she made solemn-faced neighbors scurry away from her wide Texas smiles. “I am here!” she wanted to shout. She was making a new and fabulous life! Or would! Hope made her buoyant.
    She had managed to avoid Gabriel for another two days, but obviously it wasn’t going to last. Based on his repeated comments about the conversation they needed to have, she figured the man’s lawyer hadn’t given a good enough explanation as to why she had backed out of the sale.
    But she should have known that no explanation left on an answering machine would be good enough. Gabriel Kane wasn’t the sort of man who ever gave up. If he wanted something, he would take it. She had figured that out the day she saw him from the front steps.
    Just as with the other aspects of her life, she had to take control of this, too, and make it clear why she couldn’t sell. So when the dinner invitation slid under