"Pohl, Frederik - Best of Frederik Pohl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pohl Frederick)

"Coffee, eh?" he repeated, carrying chairs toward the table. "Your young man won't drink it, Mary Lynne. But surely he'll have some cake, eh? Or a drink? Some tea? Perhaps a glass of chocolate milk- Mary Lynne will be glad to warm it. No?"
He shrugged and sat down, smiling. "No matter," he observed.
"Now tell me. When would you two lovebirds like the happy event to take place?"

Three days later, the marriage was performed. It was the minimum legal waiting period.
Alden Edkin, as it happened, was a bachelor who believed that every man who glanced at his sister was a prospective rapist-and that those who proposed marriage were after her money besides. Still, he was not an idiot.
He had taken certain precautions.
First, he took a copy of the trust agreement to Mr. Senutovitch in his company's legal department. Mr. Senutovitch read the papers over with real enjoyment.
"Ah, bully stuff, Edkin," he said sentimentally. He leaned back and gazed at the ceiling while the arms of his reclining chair sighed faintly and adjusted to his position. "It's a pleasure to read the work of a master."
"You think it's all legal, Mr. Senutovitch?"
"Legal?" Mr. Senutovitch coughed gently. "Did you notice the classic language of the operative clause? That's Paragraph Three:
'Does hereby devise, grant, give, bestow and convey, without let or distraint, absolutely.' Oh, it's a grand piece of work."
"And irrevocable?"
Mr. Senutovitch smiled. "Quite irrevocable."
"You're sure, Mr. Senutovitch?"
The lawyer said mildly, "Edkin, I wrote this company's Chattel Lien Form. I'm sure."
The other precaution Edkin took was to drop into his company's Credit Reference Library and put through the name of Croy, James T., for a report.
It would take a few days for the credit report to come through, and meanwhile the ceremony would be performed and the couple off on their honeymoon. But at least, Edkin consoled himself, when it did come through, it would be a comprehensive document. The company took an expansive view of what a credit report should cover.
The company, moreover, was not to be deceived by any such paltry devices as a change of name-or, for that matter, of fingerprints, retinal patterns or blood type. If a man could change his basic genetic construction, he might fool the company, but not with anything less; the Credit Reference Library was hooked in by direct wire with the F.B.I. office in Washington-for the convenience of the
F.B.I., not of the company. There would be no secrets left to Mr. Croy. And therefore no secret worries for Alden Edkin.
And then Edkin stood by, fighting a manly urge to weep, as his sweet young sister gave herself in wedlock to this ~white-haired giant with the deep, penetrating eyes. The ceremony was performed before Father Hanover at Trinity Episcopal Church. There were few witnesses, though Mr. Senutovitch showed up, wrung the bridegroom's hand warmly and left without a word.

In the empty house, Alden Edkin took a deep breath, let it out, and put through a phone call to their only surviving relative. It was the least he could do.
A plump face over the fur collar of a lounging robe peered out of the phone's screen at him.
"Aunt Nora?" said Edkin tentatively. "My, you're looking well."
"You lie," she said shrilly. "I look old. What do you want? If it's money, I won't give you a-"
"No, nothing like that, Aunt Nora."
"Then what? You sorry you threw me out of the house twenty years ago? Is that what you called up to say?"
"Aunt Nora," said Edkin boldly, "I say let bygones be bygones. I called you up to tell you the news about Mary Lynne-my sister- your niece."
"Well? Well? What about her?"
"She just got married, Aunt Nora," said Edkin, beaming.
"What about it? People do, you know. There's nothing strange."
Edkin was shocked. Such a lack of family feeling! And from her who should feel herself lucky beyond imagining that anyone in the family called her up at all. He was angry enough to say what he had vowed he would never refer to.
"At least," he said icily, "she got married."
Pause.
Thinly: "What do you mean by that?"
"You know perfectly well, Aunt Nora."
In the tiny screen, her face was a doll's face, an angry doll; it flushed red. She must have been shaking the phone, Edkin thought distractedly; rings of color haloed the edge of the screen.
She cried, "You're a sanctimonious jerk, Alden Edkin! You forbade me to associate with your sister-my own niece!-so I wouldn't corrupt her . . . when she was three months old and the good Lord Himself couldn't corrupt her, because she didn't so much as know which end was up! And now, just because she's getting married, you
call me up. Hoping, no doubt, that because I'm getting old and absent-minded, I'll send along a little check for ten thousand dollars or so as a wedding present. Well, you're wrong! If Mary Lynne wants to call me up, I'll talk to her-but not to you! Understand?"
And the little screen flashed red and orange as she hung up.
Edkin pushed down the off button and shrugged. Aunt Nora! Who could account for her moods? A product of her sordid past, of course, but- It had been a mistake to call her up. Definitely.
Virtuously, Alden Edkin went to bed.
The following morning, he got the report from the Credit Reference Library. It had received special priority. The paper it was typed on flamed with warning red.

Alden Edkin was waiting at the airfield when the honeymooners returned from their Grand Tour.
He had been champing at the bit for six weeks-six long weeks and not a word from them, six weeks when they were out of touch with the world. Because they wanted it that way!
It was Alden Edkin's conviction that he knew why James Croy wanted it that way. He stood there by the customs gate, grinding his teeth, a plump angry man with a face that was rapidly turning purple.
He saw them coming down the wheeled steps from the plane and he bawled, "Mary Lynne! Mary Lynne, come down here this minute! Get away from that monster Croy!"
Mary Lynne, her arm adoringly on the arm of her husband, shuddered. "Oh-oh," she muttered. "Storm clouds rising. Batten down all hatches."