"Kilby, Joan - Temporary Wife" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kilby Joan)

"What's up, O'Rourke?"

Burton pulled out one of the guest chaffs in front of Murphy's big oak
desk and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"It's Lost Harvest. Something's happened. Something that'll affect
the show."

"Get to the point," Murphy demanded in his cigar-stoked growl. He took
a swig from a giant-size mug printed with a black silhouette of the
Vancouver skyline.

Impelled back to his feet by a sudden tightening in his chest, Burton
said, "My grandfather died. On Saturday."

Murphy's responding grunt contained sympathetic overtones.

"Sorry to hear that. You want a day or two off, you got it."

"Thanks, but that's not what I need right now." Burton paced
restlessly across the room, unimpeded by furniture or implements of
work. At the far side he turned and faced his boss.

"I want to keep going on Lost Harvest."

Murphy's fleshy face settled into a scowl. He reached a thick hand
across his desk to extract a handful of jelly beans from the brass
humidor that, until recently, had contained the finest, Cuban cigars.

"How the hell you going to manage that?" he barked, popping a bright
purple bean into his mouth.

Burton strode back to Murphy's desk.

"I've got hours of taped interviews---Granddad in his kitchen, out in
the barn. I've got interviews with local marketing boards, the
minister of agriculture--" "A bunch of talking heads. What you need
are shots of your grandfather on a tractor. A farming documentary
needs to show him planting, harvesting ... all those things farmers
do." "I've been waiting for the weather to cooperate." Burton rubbed
his jaw with the frustration of it all. Granddad had been held up by
the rain, too. One hundred acres were plowed and ready to plant with
potatoes.

Both he and Granddad had thought they had plenty of time. I'll just
have to find another farm to use for location shots. No big deal."

"I dunno, O'Rourke. This project was supposed to be finished weeks
ago.