Apricot Kisses Read Online Free PDF

in front of my department’s door, unable to even push down the handle. Then Sasha hops up to the top of the stairs behind me with a pile of magazines under her arm, whistling and showing no sign of being out of breath. I try to remember how many years ago I, too, could do that.
    “You all right, boss?”
    Actually, if I’m being honest, I can’t remember ever hopping up such a huge flight of stairs—and certainly not whistling.
    “Take my bag!” I gasp and lean against the wall. “Give me a moment.”
    Sasha takes my bag and opens the glass door with her elbow. “Was the meeting with the boss that exhausting?”
    I straighten up and suck in a wheezing breath. “Absolutely not.” I ignore Sasha’s mocking look and stalk by her with my head held high. In the office kitchen, I catch Claire red-handed with my jar of Nutella in her lap. “That makes you fat, Madame Durant.”
    “Mostly it makes you feel good.” She unrepentantly puts the spoon into her doll-like mouth and screws the lid back on. “You look like you could also use one or two spoonfuls.”
    “We have a problem.” I drop into the only chair that is not covered with jackets and bags. I have no idea who’s made the cozy employee lounge into a closet. Lately there are even shoe boxes under the corner bench. Our intern is probably not entirely innocent.
    “Do we have a problem or is it you?” Sasha pushes past Claire and sets my handbag on the table, which is strewn with empty Thai takeout boxes. “What in the world are you hauling around? This weighs at least ten pounds.”
    “Please return the ugly vase to the airport restaurant.” I sigh and turn to Claire, who looks at me expectantly. My eyes are burning. “I think I really bungled things badly this time.”
    Claire frowns. “What’s a bungle?”
    “She means that she made a mess of things.” Sasha steps closer, interested. I open my mouth, but the sentence sticks in my throat. Claire sits down next to me and takes my hand.
    “What happened?”
    “The article about Tre Camini . . . Do you think it’s mean?”
    As I wait anxiously for their reaction, Claire and Sasha exchange a glance.
    “Well, I wouldn’t call it nice,” Claire begins. “But your articles rarely are, n’est-ce pas ?”
    “That bad?” I say.
    “I thought it was funny,” Sasha says. “Especially the part about the frozen vegetable corpses in the instant soup. And the spinach mush on raw spaghetti.” Sasha grins, but she shrinks back when Claire gives her a critical look.
    “Are we dealing with a letter from some lawyer again?” Claire sounds matter-of-fact, and I’m grateful.
    “The owner of the trattoria believes that my article was the cause of his grandmother’s heart attack.” The pain in my chest comes back.
    “Ouch, that’s new!” Sasha says. Claire raises her finger and Sasha responds by busying herself with my handbag. I keep talking—fast, so I don’t start crying. I can’t remember ever losing my cool like this—and in the office, of all places.
    “Now this Camini wants me fired.”
    “That’s not nice,” Sasha says.
    “And I couldn’t meet his damages claim in ten years, if ever. I’m done for.” In utter disgust, I open the jar of Nutella. Forget about the stairs; what I need is sugar. Lots of it.
    “We’ll find a solution.” Claire glances toward our intern, who is setting the striped vase on the table.
    “I doubt it,” I say.
    “Hanna . . .” Sasha has turned very pale. How nice that she’s worried about me even though I’m sometimes a horrible boss. I sniff the Nutella jar.
    “Could you hand me the spoon?” I ask Claire. Why should today be the day I start getting in shape?
    “Hanna!”
    “What?” I say to Sasha. “If Claire can stay thin even though she eats Nutella by the pound, I should be allowed a little spoonful.”
    “This thing here—that’s no vase.” Sasha’s voice trembles.
    “What are you talking about?” Mmm, the Nutella tastes