Читать книгу Dorian Gray - John Garavaglia - Страница 38
Оглавление“I thought you might.” She rose as she looked over to the young maid at the kitchen. “Frambroise, pourrivez-vous faire cuire une fournee de biscuits aux pepites de chocolat pour Dorian ici?”
“Oui, madam.” Frambroise snapped into attention, and began to gather the ingredients.
George just laughed and shook his head. Dorian shied away from the attractive young server who gave him a congenial smile. A black maid’s uniform, complete with a pressed white apron, cuffs, and collar, flattered the brunette’s slender figure.
Then Lori asked Dorian, “Is there anything else you’d like?”
“Yes, please.”
“And what would that be?” She leaned over, hands resting on her knees. “What would you like?”
“My mom.”
She winced at that, and George, trying to sound kindly but firm, said, “Dorian…you have to understand, you’re going to live with us now.”
“I don’t want to,” Dorian told him resolutely. He wasn’t rude, whining, or crying. He couldn’t have been more civil if he’d been ordering a meal in a restaurant. “I want my mom, please.” He put in almost as an afterthought.
“She’s not here, Dorian…” George began.
“Can I at least talk to her? Can you call her?”
“Dorian,” and George took him securely by the shoulders. “Your mother…she’s with God now.”
DORIAN GRAY
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