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

until Gloria held open the swinging door to the hallway.
Bad Luck bolted down the hall toward the front door.
She followed and opened it for him, and as he dashed
outside, she shouted, "Go find the boys!"

Turning, she spied the family's large, smoky tomcat
preening himself on the stairs. Philip had named the cat
Hemingway, but everyone else called him Ernie. Feeling
set upon, Gloria reached over, picked him up, and depos-
ited him outside. "You too!" she snapped, slamming the
door behind him.

Ernie was a scarred veteran of such family eruptions
and took it all with an unassailable dignity attained only
by British ambassadors, Episcopal bishops, and tomcats.
He glanced about the porch, decided upon a sunny patch,
turned about twice, and settled down for a nap.

Gloria returned to the kitchen, calling for her hus-
band. Ignoring Bad Luck's mess for the moment, she left
the kitchen and walked past the service porch. She cast a
suspicious sidelong glance at the ancient washer and
dryer. She had already decided a visit to the mall was in
order, for she knew with dread certainty those machines
were just waiting to devour any clothing she might be
foolish enough to place inside. New machines would take
only a few days to deliver, she hoped. She paused a mo-
ment as she regarded the faded, torn sofa that occupied
the large back porch, and silently added some appropri-
ate porch furniture to her Sears list.

Opening the screen door, she left the porch and
walked down the steps to the "backyard," a large bare
patch of earth defined by the house, a stand of old apple
trees off to the left, the dilapidated garage to the right,

and the equally run-down barn a good fifty yards away.
Over near the barn she caught sight of her husband,
speaking to his daughter. He still looked like an Ivy
League professor, she thought, with his greying hair re-
ceding upward slowly, his brown eyes intense. But he had
a smile to melt your heart, one that made him look like a
little boy. Then Gloria noticed that her stepdaughter,
Gabrielle, was in the midst of a rare but intense pout, and
debated turning around and leaving them alone. She
knew that Phil had just informed Gabbie she couldn't
have her horse for the summer.

Gabbie stood with arms crossed tight against her
chest, weight shifted to her left leg, a pose typical of teen-