Emma Jean Lazarus Fell in Love by Lauren Tarshis Read Free Book Online Page B

kinship with Emma-Jean’s mother and Vikram, and a long list of favorites from Vikram’s culinary repertoire.
    As usual, the animated conversation began the moment Ms. Wright entered the house with her radiant smile. Ms. Wright stood in the kitchen with Emma-Jean’s mother while Emma-Jean chopped cilantro and zested lemons for Vikram’s final flourishes. At one point Ms. Wright leaned over the pot of simmering chicken korma and inhaled deeply.
    â€œHeaven,” she sighed. “That’s all there is to say.”
    They took their seats at the table, and Ms. Wright admired a large bowl, which Emma-Jean’s parents had purchased while on their honeymoon in Turkey.
    â€œI need a nice serving bowl like that,” Ms. Wright said. “I’m having a friend over this Saturday, and I have nothing really lovely to serve with.”
    â€œSomeone we know?” Emma-Jean’s mother asked as she offered Ms. Wright a dollop of pineapple chutney.
    â€œYou must know Phil Petrowski,” Ms. Wright said.
    â€œOf course,” Emma-Jean’s mother said, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “The science teacher. I didn’t realize you were friends.”
    â€œWe have our differences,” Ms. Wright said. “But lately I’ve come to appreciate Phil. He’s a good man, a very good man.”
    â€œWill this be a romantic evening?” Vikram asked delicately.
    A chickpea fell off of Emma-Jean’s fork, as though Vikram’s shocking suggestion had caused it to faint. Was it possible that the graceful and enlightened Ms. Wright was in love with the blustery Mr. Petrowski, whose main passion was his red Cadillac Escalade?
    If this was true, Emma-Jean knew even less about love than she had feared.
    â€œNo, nothing like that,” Ms. Wright said. “Last week I was mentioning that I loved fresh tomatoes, and on Sunday afternoon he stopped by with a tomato plant to plant in my yard. I said to him, ‘Phil, if I were twenty years younger, I’d have to marry you.’ We had a good laugh over that one. Anyway, I’m going to make him a nice dinner, to thank him. I think he’s . . . maybe a little lonely.”
    Emma-Jean had never stopped to consider Mr. Petrowski’s life outside of the seventh-grade wing. And now it saddened her to think that he went home each afternoon to an empty house. Perhaps she could suggest to him that he purchase a parakeet, like Henri, who could say hello in English, Spanish, French, and Hindi.
    â€œHas Mr. Petrowski ever been married?” asked Emma-Jean’s mother.
    â€œNo,” Ms. Wright said. “I suppose he never found the right person.”
    â€œThat’s a shame,” said Emma-Jean’s mother as Vikram gazed at her.
    â€œMaybe he could still find someone,” said Emma-Jean.
    Ms. Wright nodded. “Of course,” she said.
    Emma-Jean hoped so.
    â€œAnd what about you?” Emma-Jean’s mother said to Ms. Wright.
    This was a sensitive subject for Emma-Jean, for not long ago she was quite certain she had found the perfect match for Ms. Wright: Vikram. Of course, that was before Emma-Jean discovered that Vikram was in love with her mother. She still hoped to find a suitable match for her esteemed teacher.
    â€œI don’t think you need much help in that area,” Emma-Jean’s mother continued, smiling at Ms. Wright.
    â€œThat’s very nice of you to say,” Ms. Wright said. “The truth is that I am very content as things are. I’m not really looking.”
    â€œIt would not be easy to find someone for you,” Emma-Jean said.
    Ms. Wright looked surprised.
    â€œWhy is that?” Emma-Jean’s mother asked.
    â€œBecause few men are worthy of Ms. Wright.”
    Ms. Wright smiled. “Is that so?”
    â€œYes,” Emma-Jean said. “It is.”
    â€œWell, no pressure. But if you happened to find an intelligent man out there with a good