"Esther M. Friesner - Birthday" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

everything were still the same.

As I walk down the hall to the elevator I have to pass the Ladies' Room. I
hear
harsh sounds, tearing sounds.

Someone is in there, crying. I don't have to work today; I can take the time
to
go in and see who it is, what's wrong. Maybe I can help. Maybe this will kill
some time.

The crying is coming from one of the stalls. "Who's there?" I call. The crying
stops. There is silence, broken only by the drip of water from a faucet and a
shallow, sudden intake of breath from the stall.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "Please, I can help you."

"Linda?" The voice is too fragile, too quavery for me to identify. "Is that
you?
I thought Beeton gave you the day off."

"He did," I tell whoever it is in them. "I was just on my way out."

"Go ahead, then." Now the voice is a little stronger, a little surer when
giving
a direct command. "Have fun." Another shudder of breath frays the edges of her
words.

I think I know who it is in there now..Anyway, it's worth a guess. "Ms.
Thayer?"
What is she doing in here? The executives have their own bathrooms.

A latch flicks; the stall door swings open. Ms. Thayer is what I dreamed I'd
be
someday, back when I was a Business major freshman in college: a manager never
destined to waste her life in the middle reaches of the company hierarchy, a
comer and a climber with diamond-hard drive fit to cut through any glass
ceiling
her superiors are fool enough to place in her way. Sleekly groomed, tall and
graceful in a tailored suit whose modest style still manages to let the world
know it cost more than my monthly take-home pay, Ms. Thayer is a paragon.
Every
plane of expensive fabric lies just so along a body trimmed and toned and
tanned
to perfection. Only the front of her slim blue skirt seems to have rucked
itself
a little out of line. It bulges just a bit, as if -- as if --

Oh.