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

"What? No." She put the magazine back, glanced at the shopping bag he was
carrying. It was bulging and bigger than a breadbox. "You must of need a lot of
bathroom stuff," she said.

He nodded. "Ready?"

"Sure."

On the way into his fifth-floor apartment, she leaned against the front door and
thought, --Are you friendly?--

--I do my job. I keep Our Things safe inside and keep other harmful things
out.--

--I'm not really one of Our Things,-- Matt thought. --I have an invitation,
though.--

--I understand that.--

--If I need to leave right away, will you let me out, even if Jim doesn't want
me to leave?--

The door mulled this over, then said, --All right.--

--Thanks-- She stroked the wood, then turned to look at the apartment.

She had known he had money -- those gold cards, that cash. She like the way it
manifested. The air was tinted with faint scents of lemon furniture polish and
evergreen. The couch was long but looked comfortable, upholstered in a geometric
pattern of soft, intense lavenders, indigos, grays. The round carpet on the
hardwood floor was deep and slate blue; the coffee table was old wood, scarred
here and there. A black metal spiral plant-stand supported green, healthy
philodendrons and Rabbit Track Marantas. Ever thing looked lived-in or
lived-with.

To the left was a dining nook. A little Christmas tree decorated wit white
lights, tinsel, and paper angels stood on the dining table.

"I thought Linda was going to come," Plainfield said, looking at the tree. There
were presents under it. "Corey didn't tell me until last night that the were
going out of state. You like cocoa?"

"Sure," said Matt, thinking about her Christmas Eve dream, cocoa an other
peoples' memories.

"Uh -- what would you like me to call you?"

"Matt," said Matt.

"Matt," he said, and nodded. "Kitchen's through there." He gestured toward the