"Tanya Huff - Keeper's Chronicles 1 - Summon the Keeper" - читать интересную книгу автора (Huff Tanya)

Inside the envelope were half a dozen documents and another note, slightly
shorter than the first.
"Senile but concise," Claire muttered. "Congratulations, you're the new owner
of .the Elysian Fields Guest House." She glanced up at Dean. "The Elysian Fields
Guest House?" When he nodded, she shook her head in disbelief. "Why didn't he just
call it the Vestibule of Hell?"
 Dean shrugged. "Because that would be bad for business?"
"Do you get much business?"
"Well, no."
"I can't say I'm surprised." She bent her attention back to the note. "Stay out of
room six. What's in room six?"
"There was a fire, years ago. Mr. Smythe didn't need the room, so he saved
money on repairs by keeping it locked up."
"Sounds charming. That's all there is." She turned the paper over but it was
blank on the other side. "Maybe these will give us some ans…" Her voice trailed off
as, mouth open, she fanned the other papers. Her signature had been carefully placed
where it needed to be on each of the legal documents. And it was her signature, not a
forgery. Smythe had lifted it out of the registration book.
Which could only mean one thing.
"Mr. Mclssac, could you please go and get me a cup of coffee."
Dean found himself out in the office, the door to Mr. Smythe's rooms closed
behind him, before he'd made a conscious decision to move. He remembered being
asked to go for coffee and then he was in the office. Coffee. Office. Nothing in
between.
"Okay, so your memory's going." He ducked under the counter flap. "Look at
the bright side, boy, you're still employed."
Jobs were scarce, and he hoped he could hang on to this one. The pay wasn't
great, but it included a basement apartment and he'd discovered that he liked taking
care of people. He'd begun to think about taking some kind of part-time hotel
management course; when there were no guests, and there were seldom guests, he had
a lot of free time.
All that could change now that Mr. Smythe had gotten tired of waiting for a
buyer and given the place away to a total stranger. Who didn't seem to want it.
Claire Hansen was not what he'd expected. First off, she was a lot younger.
Although he'd had minimal experience judging the ages of women and the makeup
just muddled it up all the more, he'd be willing to swear she was under thirty. He
might even go as low as twenty-five.
And it was weird that she traveled with a cat.
"I can't feel the summons anymore, because I'm where I'm needed."
Austin blinked. "Say what?"
"Augustus Smythe is a Cousin."
"Augustus?"
"It's on the documents." Claire fanned them out so the cat could see all six
pages. "Printed. He knew better than to sign his name. He's been here for a while, so
obviously he was monitoring an accident site-a site he's buggered off from and made
my responsibility." She dropped down onto a sofa upholstered in pink cabbage roses
and continued dropping, sinking through billowing cushions to an alarming depth.
"Are you okay?" Austin asked a few moments later when she emerged,
breathing heavily and clutching a handful of loose change.
"Fine." Knees still considerably higher than her hips, Claire hooked an elbow