Читать книгу Miranda Sparks’ wonderful life - Danny Osipenko - Страница 4

– Take it, it’s for you.

I handed Frank a box of cookies.

– Tommy. – He pronounced and placed it carefully on the table.

– These are pink cookies. I don’t know if you like them. My aunt brought them back from France yesterday. I don’t really like sweet things myself, maybe you’ll like them!

– Thank you! Are you going somewhere now?

– Yeah, for the fundraiser. I think I’ll be gone until9.

– Shall I call a cab for you?

– Oh, no, you don’t! I’m supposed to be picked up.

Frank looked at the computer monitor.

– Then, totally maybe it’s up to you!?

I leaned against the table and looked at the dark car Frank was pointing at.

– Most likely. Well, I guess I’ll be going, then. And don’t forget the cookies.

– You can rest assured, miss, I certainly won’t forget them.

Cousin Patricia, Aunt Jo’s oldest daughter, came to pick me up. In May, she was supposed to turn twenty305, but because of her short stature and childlike face, she wasn’t supposed to be more20 than that. Patricia, had reddish, naturally curly hair, a firm heel, and a tough temper. She was not one of the people I was intimately acquainted with. I knew as much about her as Mr. President knew about me.

Also, Patricia worked in my father’s company. For more than 12 years, she had been hunched over for him and was probably the only one in our family who never got into scandals. According to Aunt Jo, her eldest daughter, most like a man, because of her own business acumen and rigid ways of working. And it also bothered my aunt that her thirty-five-year-old daughter was still single.

I glanced sideways at my cousin, who was rapidly typing something on her phone as we drove to a fundraiser her mother was throwing.

In general, charity for me is like buying hot dogs for bucks50, but giving for them70. And to do it as if those bucks20 helped change the world. Seriously, that’s exactly how it looks. Until one day you step in someone else’s shit and realize that the good is good and the ugly is still there. And no matter how hard you try, you can never make the world the way you want it to be. So you get discouraged and lose enthusiasm, but you’ll still keep leaving bucks20, because your conscience is clear and you’re morally satisfied.

Now, I just brought with me, just the bucks20. And it’s not because I’m stingy for life. No, it’s not! The reason was more banal than you could ever imagine. It’s just, it was all I had. There were two days before payday, and if this event, say, for example, on Thursday, I would not be stingy, and would donate, his honestly earned three hundred bucks, for such a good cause.

In general, if you’ve ever been to this kind of event, then you may remember those old ladies, dressed in luxurious furs, who leisurely dash from one acquaintance to another. At first, you are struck by them, then you look closely, and somewhere in the third minute, you begin to recognize in this lady, one of your own relatives. Like, for example, I saw my Aunt Jo as soon as I entered the small room of the local art museum on the 3rd floor.

– Thank goodness! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.

– Hello, auntie!

When she hugged me, I thought I could even taste the sweet taste of her perfume in my mouth.

– Your father, no way, is a great man! Now Arbiter Ramsey was able to come, even though he said he wouldn’t be here a few days ago. I wasn’t the least bit taken aback when I found out it was because your father was coming. I always knew that Henry, which, incidentally, is my father’s name, would be a great success in his business. But not like this! I couldn’t even dream of that. It’s a shame, of course, that Claire left us so soon. She was a saint.

Nothing disgusting was ever said about my mother. Everyone knew her as the beautiful, cheerful, and kind spouse of Mr. Henry Spikes. Which, evidently, cannot be said of me.

Almost every seat in the auction hall was taken. So I slowed my pace as I spotted an empty chair, in the right row, off the small improvised auction stage.

– Where are you running to, young lady?

Behind me was an old lady in a perfectly tailored peach-colored tweed suit with a thin string of pearls around her neck.

– Nowhere, madam. Please, come in!

Such prim girls, always trying to cut in line. Because, you see, they have been through a lot more than you have, and also, in the rules of good upbringing, it is considered bad form not to give way, a person older than you, a seat. Which, in principle, I – a young, well-mannered lady – had to do. Specifically, I had to let an old lady into the empty seat I was claiming.

In order to finally sit down, I now had to drag myself across the room, cursing my apologies as I passed other people who had already taken their seats. As I made my way to a free chair, I banged myself in pain. The nasty, throbbing pain in my knee reminded me of when, as a child, my mother had gently treated my scrapes and sores. I swiftly wiped away the tears, so no one would see them. I did not want to become another victim of gossip mongers, or simply inquisitive individuals who loved to discuss such displays of helplessness in their own small circle, with a glass of local French wine.

– Excuse me sir, may I…

Next to a vacant chair, sat a man, in a gray-blue three-piece suit, who was reading the newsletter of the current auction when I approached him.

– Yes, of course.

He had to get up from his own seat so I could get through.

– Thank you, sir. – The man nodded his head courteously in response to my reply, and began again to examine the lots on display for the day.

I, too, picked up the ballot as I sat down, and almost shrieked in surprise when I opened the last page.

«What the hell!» – I wanted to say when I found out in the last lot, my mother’s beloved brooch my father had given her, in honor of their third anniversary of marriage.

Well, nothing for yourself, a turn of events!