"James Patrick Kelly - The Edge of Nowhere" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

She sorted through the contents of the drawer as if searching for something. She moved the dental floss,
destiny dice, blank catalog cards, a tape measure, her father's medals, the two dead watches and finally
picked out a bottle of ink and the Waterman 1897 Eyedropper fountain pen that Will had given her to
make up for the fight they'd had about the laundry. The dog waited politely. "Well?" She unscrewed the
lid of the ink bottle.

"It's called The Last President," said Baskerville, "I'm afraid I don't know the author."

Rain felt the blood drain from her face. The Last President had been Will's working title for the book,
just before he had started calling it The Great American Novel. She dipped the nib of the fountain pen
into the ink bottle, pulled the filling lever and then wiped the nip on a tissue. "Never heard of it," she said
as she wrote Last Prez?? in her daybook. She glanced over at Will, and caught him squirming on his
chair. He looked as if his pockets were full of crickets. "Fiction or non-fiction?"

"Fiction."

She wrote that down. "Short stories or a novel?"

"I'm not sure. A novel, I think."

The shop bell tinkled as Mrs. Snopes cracked the door opened. She hesitated when she bumped one of
the terriers. "Is something wrong?" she said, not taking her hand from the handle.

"Right as nails," said Fast Eddie. "Come in, Helen, good to see you. These folks are here for Rain. The
big one is Mr. Baskerville and -- I'm sorry I didn't catch your names." He gave the terriers a welcoming
smile. Fast Eddie had become the friendliest man in Nowhere ever since his wife had stepped off the
edge of town and disappeared.

"Spot," said one.

"Rover," said the other.

"Folks?" muttered Mrs. Snopes. "Dogs is what I call 'em." She inhaled, twisted her torso and squeezed
between the two terriers. Mrs. Snopes was very limber; she taught swing yoga at the Town Hall
Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday nights from 6-7:30. "I've got a taste for some crumbs of your banana
oatmeal bar," she said. "That last one laid me out for the better part of an afternoon. How are they
breaking today, Eddie?"

"Let's just see." He set a tray on the top of the display case and pulled on a glove to sort through the
broken cookies.

"You are Lorraine Carraway?" said Baskerville.

"That's her name, you bet." Will broke in impulsively. "But she hates it." He crumpled the looseleaf page
he had been writing on, tossed it at the trashcan and missed. "Call her Rain."

Rain bristled. She didn't hate her name; she just didn't believe in it.

"And you are?" said the bloodhound. His lips curled away from pointed teeth and black gums in a