"Feist, Raymond E - Faerie Tale 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

hallway, with their polished maple banisters, and the slid-
ing doors to the den and dining room were relics of an-
other era, conjuring up images of William Powell as Clar-
ence Day or Clifton Webb in Cheaper by the Dozen. This
house called for—no, demanded, she amended—high
starched collars in an age of designer jeans. Gloria ab-
sently brushed back an errant strand of blond hair at-
tempting an escape from under the red kerchief tied
about her head, and fought back a nearly overwhelming
homesickness. Casting about for a place to start in the
seemingly endless mess, she threw her hands up in resig-
nation. "This is not what Oscar winners are supposed to
be doing! Phil!"

When no answer was forthcoming, she left the large
living room and shouted her husband's name up the
stairs. Again no reply. She walked back along the narrow
hallway to the kitchen and pushed open the swinging
door. The old house presented its kitchen to the east,
with hinged windows over the sink and drainboard ad-
mitting the morning light. It would be hot in the morn-
ings, come July, but it would be a pleasant place to sit in
the evenings, with the windows and large door to the
screened-in back porch left open, admitting the evening
breeze. At least, she hoped so. Southern California days
might be blast-furnace-hot at times, but it was dry heat
and the evenings were impossibly beautiful. God, she
wished to herself, what I'd give for an honest patio, and
about half this humidity. Fighting off a sudden bout of
regret over the move, she pulled her sticky blouse away
from herself and let some air cool her while she hollered
for her husband again.

An answering scrabbling sound under the table made
her jump, and she turned and uttered her favorite oath,
"Goddamnitall!" Beneath the kitchen table crouched Bad
Luck, the family's black Labrador retriever, a guilty ex-
pression on his visage as he hunkered down before a ten-
pound bag of Ken-L-Ration he had plundered. Crunchy

kernels rolled around the floor. "You!" she commanded.
"Out!"

Bad Luck knew the rules of the game as well as the
boys and at once bolted from under the table. He skidded
about the floor looking for a way out, suddenly con-
founded by discovering himself in new territory. Having
arrived only the day before, he hadn't yet learned the
local escape routes. He turned first one way, then an-
other, his tail half wagging, half lowered between his legs,