"Mercedes Lackey - Tregarde 2 - Burning Water" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

chance for a secure position. That was the carrot, the big prize he was really hoping for.
SecurityтАФSherry had never thought there'd come a day when that was something she longed for.
God, it all depended on Robert, and whether he could work enough magic with his camera to
make tired old sights seem new and entrancing.
Or so he thought. Sherry had experienced enough disappointment in her marriage to Robert to
convince her that this trip was the time to further an idea of her own.
Once upon a time Sherry really had been a holdover hippie; her handcrafted clothing outlet had a
small, but devoted clientele, though Sherry had been more interested in the craftwork itself than the
money it brought in. But that phase had ended three years ago . . . .
The whole world and what was important had changed for her the first time Bobby (poor
asthmatic little baby) had gotten seriously ill. The hospital had wanted money in advance, and Robert
hadn't worked in weeks. They'd ended up borrowing from Robert's parents (who weren't all that well off
themselves), after a frantic midnight phone call.
It was then that Sherry realized that it had been her money, not Robert's, that had been paying
most of the bills. It was then that she decided to take her work seriously, and began researching craft
techniques and expanding her circle of customers. She had gotten the feeling lately that she was on the
verge of a breakthroughтАФwhat she needed now was something new and different in the folkloric look to
make her own name. Research had convinced her she just might find what she needed right here.
The ancient Aztec garb of brocaded huiple and wrap-skirt was timeless, practicalтАФand might be
just different enough to provide the answer she hoped for, once updated for the eighties. The Aztec wrap-
skirt with the double ties and pleats was looser, easier to move in than contemporary skirtsтАФand far less
apt to "get away" from the wearer. And the huiple, a loose, sleeveless blouse held close to the body in
front, but loose in back to catch the breezes, wasтАФso far as Sherry was concernedтАФthe ultimate in
summer comfort.
She finished her bargaining in a rush, and hurried out into the street with her purchase clutched
under her arm. Robert was glancing around with a crease between his thick brows; she knew that look.
There was something not quite right about the shot he wanted to take. He spotted her coming toward him
as she slipped between two plump, gossiping women, and smiled.
Her knees went weak again. God, that smileтАФit was like Apollo parting the clouds and bestowing
his blessing. No matter how feckless, how unfaithful, how neglectful he was, all he had to do was smile
and she knew she'd never have the guts to leave him.
"Sunshine! You're exactly what I need! Go stand over there and look touristyтАФ" he pointed
toward a display of Aztec-replica pottery. This lot was rather better than the usual; it looked real. She
draped the huiple gracefully over one arm and posed artlessly, seeming totally unconscious of the camera.
She was an old hand at thisтАФshe'd started out as Robert's very first model, after all.
And as usual, Robert was right. Her pink sundress (her own designтАФthat might do her some
good, too) and long blond hair contrasted nicely with the dark pottery and white adobe, making the scene
seem more exotic than it really was. Robert snapped off a dozen shots from as many angles in a few
minutes, passed the grinning potter a couple of pesos, and took her elbow with an expression of
satisfaction.
"Now where?" she asked. She was perfectly content to be dragged anywhere he wanted, now that
he was in a good mood again, and now that she had a prime example of exactly what she was looking for
in her possession.
"The ruins, I think." He eased the strap of his camera case a little further up on his shoulder.
"Haven't they been done to death already?"
"MaybeтАФthat's what I want to check out. Maybe some different angles, dramatic lightingтАФI don't
know, maybe I can stage something . . . ."
He went introspective and brooding on her, with one of his typically instant mood-changes, and
she knew better than to interrupt his train of thought.
The earthquake had been eight months ago, and parts of the city still looked like a war zone. The