Free Claudia Silver to the Rescue (9780547985602) by Kathy Ebel Page B

reverberated through the apartment, the sound snaking around many highly polished surfaces.
    â€œMerry goddamned Christmas!” Bronwyn cried as the door flew open. Flushed with champagne, she stooped slightly in her towering heels to snatch Claudia into a skinny, fierce hug. “To say that the two of you are a sight for sore eyes would be the understatement of the millennium.”
    â€œExaggerate much?” Claudia grinned. Bronwyn grabbed Phoebe’s wrist. In her stiletto sling backs she was just shy of the younger girl’s considerable height.
    â€œWhy can’t you be my sisters instead of mere
roommates?
” Bronwyn complained, pulling Phoebe into the circular foyer, already infused with the lively energy of the party.
    â€œIt’s better this way,” Claudia countered. “If we were your sisters, you’d be complaining about us to somebody else.” As swingy Christmas carols played from hidden speakers, an eager young man approached Phoebe, his arms outstretched in a gesture she mistook for an invitation to dance.
    â€œMaybe later,” Phoebe offered apologetically.
    â€œHe’s asking for your coat,” Bronwyn explained, grabbing a pair of champagne flutes for her guests as Phoebe hesitated.
    â€œ
Give
it to him,” Claudia instructed firmly, holding on to her string bag full of offerings for the Tates and downing her champers like a shot. In the time it took Phoebe to struggle with the fan of cocktail napkins presented by another party helper, Claudia tossed back a second. The third glass Claudia was willing to nurse for the moment as, from her corner perch at the top of a wide set of steps, she surveyed the familiar sunken living room, dotted with clumps of chatting adults. Throughout the year, the Tates’ home could always be counted on for whimsical seasonal decor, fresh flowers, thoughtfully selected ambient music, and a selection of stinky cheeses, but Annie Tate outdid herself at Christmas.
    The towering tree, strung with cranberry ropes, emerged from a sea of wrapped gifts to scrape the ceiling. Bulging needlepoint stockings hung from the fireplace mantel, its hearth crackling. Claudia nodded to a miniature table, set near the tree with holly-printed linen and china, around which a pair of worn Steiff bears in matching Stewart-plaid vests and a Madame Alexander doll dressed in a form-fitting, fur-trimmed red ensemble enjoyed a tea party.
    â€œSo who all is here besides High-Priced Call Girl Claus and her gay best friends?” Claudia asked, enamored of the scene.
    â€œOh, Carter Kemp and the rest of Dad’s boring-as-dirt associates from work that we might go to Odeon with later,” Bronwyn replied, indicating a group of ruddy young men in sports coats, clutching pilsners, as Annie’s unruly older sister, Throaty Aunt Toni, held them prisoner. Aunt Toni’s fuzzy curls, seasonal caftan, Frye boots, and childlessness bore a notable contrast to Annie’s tidy presentation. “And Martha and her boyfriend, the couple most likely to be eaten by bears on the Inca trail.” Bronwyn gave a nod to her oldest sister, Martha Tate, a lean, deeply tanned young blond in a simple shift and bare legs, just back from her most recent Guatemalan research junket. Martha stood closely to an older man with a shaggy gray mane and matching crumb-catcher beard.
    â€œThose two are
dating?
” Claudia marveled. “I thought he was her graduate thesis adviser or something.”
    â€œHe
was,
” Bronwyn replied. “And now he’s her boyfriend. He’s five years older than Daddy.”
    Phoebe was incredulous. “Wait. Your
father?
”
    â€œDing ding ding,”
Bronwyn confirmed. “We call him Married Michael.”
    â€œDo you think they’ll ever get married?” Phoebe asked, unable to take her eyes off the unlikely couple. It was fascinating to see another woman of substance, besides her own mother, dating