"Hoffman-HomeForChristmas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoffman Abbie)

Matt shrugged. "I didn't come in to order anything." She wasn't sure how old she
was, but she knew it was more than twenty-one. Her close-cut hair, mid-range
voice, and slight, sexless figure led people to mistake her for a teenage boy, a
notion she usually encouraged. No one had formally identified her since her
senior year of high school, years and years ago. "I just came to find a James
Plainfield. He here?"

A man seated at the bar looked up. He was dressed in a dark suit, but his tie
was emerald green, and his brown hair was a little longer than business-length.
He didn't look like his driver's license picture, but then, who did? "Whatcha
want?" he said.

"Wanted to give you your wallet. I found it in the street."

"Wha?" He leaned forward, squinting at her.

She walked to the bar and set his wallet in front of him, then turned to go.

"Hey!" he said, grabbing her arm. She decided maybe architecture built up
muscles more than she had suspected. "You pick my pocket, you little thief?"

"Sure, that's why I searched you out to return your wallet. Put it in your
pocket, Bud. The other pocket. I think you got a hole in your regular wallet
pocket. The wallet doesn't like being out in the open."

His eyes narrowed. "Just a second," he said, keeping his grip on her arm. With
his free hand he opened the wallet and checked the bulging currency compartment,
then looked at the credit cards. His eyebrows rose. He released her. "Thanks,
kid. Sorry. I'd really be in trouble without this."

"Yeah, that's what it said."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged, giving him a narrow grin and stuffing her hands deep into her
pockets. He studied her, looking at the soaked shoulders of her jacket, glancing
down at her battered boots, their laces knotted in places other than the ends.

"Hey," he said softly. "Hey. How long since you ate?"

"Lunch," she said. With all the people shopping, the trash cans in back of
downtown restaurants had been full of leftovers after the lunch rush.

He frowned at his watch. "It's after nine. Does your family know where you are?"

"Not lately," she said. She yawned, covering it with her hand. Then she glanced
at the wallet. "This the guy?"

--Yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh joy.--