"Alastair Reynolds - Beyond the Aquila Rift" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Alastair)

"Would that include you?"

"No." she said. "I'm more or less stuck here. But I'm OK about it. I guess I'm the exception that proves
the rule."

The waiters were glass mannequins of a kind that had been fashionable in the core worlds about twenty
years ago. One of them placed a croissant in front of me, then poured scalding black coffee into my cup.

"Well, it's good to see you," I said.

"You too, Thorn." Greta finished her orange juice and then took a corner of my croissant for herself,
without asking. "I heard you got married."

"Yes."

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me about her?"

I drank some of my coffee. "Her name's Katerina."

"Nice name."

"She works in the department of bioremediation on Ka-gawa."

"Kids?" Greta asked.

"Not yet. It wouldn't be easy, the amount of time we both spend away from home."

"Mm." She had a mouthful of croissant. "But one day you might think about it."

"Nothing's ruled out," I said. As flattered as I was that she was taking such an interest in me, the surgical
precision of her questions left me slightly uncomfortable. There was no thrust and parry, no fishing for
information. That kind of directness unnerved. But at least it allowed me to ask the same questions.
"What about you, then?"

"Nothing very exciting. I got married a year or so after I last saw you. A man called Marcel."

"Marcel," I said, ruminatively, as if the name had cosmic significance. "Well, I'm happy for you. I take it
he's here too?"

"No. Our work took us in different directions. We're still married, but…" Greta left the sentence hanging.

"It can't be easy," I said.
"If it was meant to work, we'd have found a way. Anyway, don't feel too sorry for either of us. We've
both got our work. I wouldn't say I was any less happy than the last time we met."

"Well, that's good," I said.

Greta leaned over and touched my hand. Her fingernails were midnight black with a blue sheen.