• Пожаловаться

Jeff Abbott: Promises of Home

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Jeff Abbott: Promises of Home» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. категория: Криминальный детектив / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Jeff Abbott Promises of Home

Promises of Home: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Promises of Home»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

Jeff Abbott: другие книги автора


Кто написал Promises of Home? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

Promises of Home — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Promises of Home», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

But where the path we walked began

1

To slant the fifth autumnal slope,

As we descended following Hope,

There sat the Shadow feared of man; Who broke our fair companionship,

And spread his mantle dark and cold,

And wrapped thee formless in the fold,

And dulled the murmur on thy lip, And bore thee where I could not see

Nor follow, though I walk in haste,

And think that somewhere in the waste

The Shadow sits and waits for me.

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam

“Why on Earth does Wanda Dickensheets think she looks remotely like Elvis?” Junebug asked me, sipping coffee and chewing on a cheese kolache.

“First time I ever saw a woman dressing like a man,” Sister offered, dropping another kolache on Junebug’s plate. She left me unpastried, putting her head near Junebug’s shoulder to get a better look at the latest goings-on in downtown Mirabeau.

Frowning, I watched the spectacle across the street. Ed Dickensheets steadied a sign against the blustery November breeze while his assistant fastened a garish placard to the awning of the old dress shop that the Dickensheets had bought.

Apparently Ed didn’t steady it quite right, as his wife, Wanda, brayed at him from the sidewalk to hold the placard straight. Wanda was dressed like Elvis Presley in his later years, resplendent in a white, high-collared, rhine-stoned jumpsuit. A black pompadour wig covered her head, and her ample breasts were somehow concealed from view. I could see Ed’s lips tighten as Wanda yelled in her finest fake Tupelo accent, her jet-black man’s wig bobbing along with her temper.

“I hope this doesn’t mean Little Ed’s going to start dressing like Priscilla,” I said.

“Oh, my God.” Sister peered out the Sit-a-Spell’s window from the cafe counter. “She’s actually waving a jelly doughnut at him. Quick, Jordy, get my camera. I’ll sell the picture to the National Enquirer. ”

I was too busy reading the sign Ed was hanging: WORLD-FAMOUS INSTITUTE OF ELVISOLOGY-where the king still lives. “As soon as the tabloids find out that Elvis is alive in Mirabeau,” I said, “all those inquiring minds are going to leave those Burger Kings in Chattanooga high and dry. We’ll have ourselves a tourist trap. Get out the radar gun, Junebug, and make the town some money.”

“What the hell has gotten into Ed?” Junebug asked, but I didn’t correct him. I still thought of Ed as Little Ed; he’d kept that nickname all through high school, up until his daddy, Big Ed, dropped dead of one chicken-fried steak too many. It’d been hard to keep from calling him Little Ed, since he still wasn’t a big man. I resolved to mend my ways. After all, now Ed was a respected seller of radio ad time for KBAV, in addition to being Mirabeau’s newest businessman.

“I don’t believe it’s as much Ed as Wanda and her mother, Ivalou,” I offered, fighting off the urge for a cigarette to go with my coffee. The stress of the past few weeks had pert near driven me back to the packs. “If Wanda is Elvis, then Ivalou is surely Colonel Parker. Those two conned Ed into that trip to Graceland, and since Wanda saw how much money folks spend on Elvis mementos, she’s been the queen of painted velvet. She thinks there’s enough people sharing her taste to keep a business running.”

“Where’s old Clevey when you need him?” Junebug laughed. “He’d have a field day poking fun at Ed for this one.”

Some things-like Clevey’s teasing Ed until a vein popped out on Ed’s forehead-never changed. Clevey’d been coming in daily to the cafe since it reopened last week, but he hadn’t made an appearance this morning- undoubtedly too busy trying to find more interesting news around town for his stories in The Mirabeau Mirror.

“It’s better he’s not here. He’d probably request a song from Wanda, and I don’t want to hear her warbling ‘Jail-house Rock,’” I said. Sister made a huffing noise and went to wipe her spotless counters.

Junebug shook his head and then glanced around the newly redone cafe. “All these new businesses. Mirabeau’s about to get metropolitan, don’t you think?”

Having left Boston to come home, I couldn’t exactly agree with his assessment of the new Mirabeau. Now, I love Mirabeau; it’s my hometown, and I had willingly moved back close to a year ago to help care for my mother, who’s ailing from Alzheimer’s. Agony was watching Mama’s daily slide down into dementia, but the idea of her in a nursing home was even more painful. I have a horror of those places; they’re the modern-day version of the iceberg, set adrift with the Eskimo elderly. I had no wish to see my mother in an antiseptic-reeking dormitory full of people waiting to die.

In any case, Junebug was plain wrong. The town hadn’t changed that much in the years I’d been up North enjoying my career as a textbook editor. The addition of two new businesses hardly signified an economic boom.

The Institute of Elvisology might cater to its special customer base a whole six weeks, I guessed; the newly bought and refurbished Sit-a-Spell Cafe held (I hoped and prayed) a far brighter prospect. As long as its two proprietresses could agree. Right now the future looked bleak.

Having abandoned their only two customers (Junebug and me), the two intrepid entrepreneurs debated with pinched smiles by the kolache counter, the fragrantly steaming fruit pastries sweeter than their words but no less heated.

“Candace, sweetie pie, we’ve covered this already. I am not preparing any ethnic dishes aside from Tex-Mex, spaghetti, or French fries,” Sister insisted nicely. She’d finally given up her glamorous job as the cook out at the End of the Road Truck Stop (also known locally as Hell with Twelve Booths). Sister was one of the best cooks in the county and she’d finally realized her culinary talent was wasted on folks too road-tired to use their taste buds. Sister looked right spiffy in her new turquoise T-shirt with Sit-a-Spell Cafe stenciled in white cursive across the front. We can nearly pass for twins, she and I, with our blond hair and green eyes. I of course have a calmer, more pleasant temperament.

“But my friends in Houston say Lithuanian food is in!” My girlfriend, Candace Tully, ran a tired hand through her heavy brown hair. “We need a gimmick, something different to grab customers. Food they can’t get elsewhere in Mirabeau. If we don’t lure ’em, no one’s going to-” She paused for advertising pathos and sang in a tremulous soprano, “Come in and sit a spell.”

This recital fired salvo number two. Sister took a deep breath. “I already told you, Candace, we are not doing that stupid radio ad. If Ed stops making a fool of himself in the street long enough to pitch that off-key jingle again, you just tell him I’m not exchanging a month of free lunches for ten seconds of airtime. He needs to give us a better deal. I’m sure he’s giving himself bargain rates for that fool Elvis store.” Sister crossed her arms. I knew that meant the conversation was over. Candace hadn’t quite learned yet.

“Ladies, ladies.” I stood, cajoling peacefully before Candace could launch a counteroffensive. They both looked up at me like I was aiming to lose myself a testicle. I ignored it; they both love me too much to actually hurt me. “Y’all can’t argue out here in front. Scare off any stray customers that wander in. Go in the back and wrestle in the flour.”

Sister glared. Candace tossed up hands and said, “The problem, Arlene, is that there’s still loyalty to Minerva. People feel funny coming in here knowing she’s gone.”

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Promises of Home»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Promises of Home» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Jeff Abbott: Fear
Fear
Jeff Abbott
Jeff Abbott: Adrenaline
Adrenaline
Jeff Abbott
Jeff Abbott: Do Unto Others
Do Unto Others
Jeff Abbott
Jeff Abbott: Cut and Run
Cut and Run
Jeff Abbott
Jeff Abbott: Trust Me
Trust Me
Jeff Abbott
Jeff Abbott: Collision
Collision
Jeff Abbott
Отзывы о книге «Promises of Home»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Promises of Home» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.