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

favoritism in the matter of traffic lanes. The school bus hewed to the right,
but Chestnut Street was narrow and there was still a significant measure of PVO
{Potential Vehicular Overlap}. However, at the point where all present held
their breath in horror, the cab slid itself softly through the school bus at the
point of supposed impact and came out the other side as easily as a needle
passing through Jell-O[TM].

The bus stopped at its wonted dropoff points and the debarking schoolchildren
spilled out, making loud the welkin ring on Chestnut Street {The Planning and
Zoning Commission had approved limited daylight welkin-ringing for this area}.
If they noted an air of fear or anxiety or residual heebie-jeebies clinging to
their parents, they tabled all relevant inquiries in favor of more pressing
demands, i.e.: "What's for snack?" and "Lemme inna house, I gotta go!"

As for the cab and its passenger, they were gone.

In their ones and twos, the neighbors withdrew, each to tend his own vine and
fig tree (or, in the case of Mrs. Starrett, mum patch). Mr. Budd went back to
his yardwork. He raked together quite a large pile of leaves, chivvied them into
the outspread tarp, bundled them up, and dragged them to the large compost pile
at the back of his property.

Duty done, he went back into the house to take a well-earned rest. He lingered a
few moments before the open refrigerator door, dithering over whether to make it
a lemonade or a beer and muttering under his breath about these fool young men
incapable of controlling their wives. He concluded that he could give young Mr.
Gaye some lessons on that score, damned if he couldn't. He made it a beer.

He had settled himself and his beer comfortably into the dependable embrace of
the La-Z-Boy when the doorbell rang. Grumbling, he answered it and found that
there was no one on his doorstep and nothing beyond save an unobstructed view of
the neighborhood.

Well, nothing beyond that one could see, but certainly something to be heard,
namely a friendly voice in his ear to inquire: Anybody call for a cab?

Something rattled somewhere in a house bought and paid for by someone
respectable on Chestnut Street.

Most likely not, but it's obvious that she knows her way around Addams's
territory (and what's more, unlike the male half of our species, if she got lost
she wouldn't hesitate to ask for directions, either).