"Ferrarella, Marie - Christmas Every Day" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ferrarella Marie)

future use.

It was a nice-looking restaurant, Sara decided as she pulled up in the
parking lot. She would have expected nothing less from something that
Brom was involved with. Her cousin had begun by wanting to remodel the
restaurant at his Tahoe casino and had wound up remodeling his life by
marrying Julia Sinclair, the woman who had taken on the task of
bringing a touch of class to a heretofore drab restaurant

Sara had been duly impressed with both Casino Camelot and
Sinclair's/Tahoe when Brom and Julia had shown her around yesterday
afternoon. Impulsively stopping at Brom's house en route to staying
with her father, she had left as emotionally fortified as she could for
the long-delayed meeting ahead.

Her father had called a week ago, having tracked her down through
relatives who kept tabs on the nomadic life she led. Sara spent six
months in one place, a year with another firm, nine months with a
third. She left when things threatened to turn stale. Or serious. She
always stayed clear of anything serious. It was a war wound, left over
from her parents' divorce. That was the way she had thought of her
parents' divorce. As a war.

The conversation between them on the telephone had been painfully
awkward. Raymond Santangelo had been diagnosed as having a clogged
left artery. He faced the posChristmas

Every Day 9 sibility of intensive heart surgery. And he was facing it
alone. He'd asked that Sara come to stay with him until he
recuperated. She had wanted to say no, but the word that had come out
of her mouth had been yes.

So here she was, dealing with ghosts after all these years.

Sara sat for a moment in the rented tan Mazda, thinking. Beyond the
building the ocean peacefully communed with the shore less than a half
mile away. She could see Catalina in the distance, its form distinct
against the horizon like that of a proud whale sunning itself beneath
the golden rays. It was one of those perfect days that Californians
liked to brag about.

But Sara wasn't really thinking about Californians or the weather. She
was thinking about her life. And her cousin's.

Brom had it all. A tiny spark of envy flickered within her soul before
it went out again. A home, a family and a lucrative business. Sara
laughed softly to herself as she thought of it. She'd never have
guessed that he would turn out this way. Out of the assorted
collection of cousins who huddled beneath the giant family umbrella,
Brom had always been thought of as the black sheep. But his roots went