"Nancy Springer - Chasing Butterfly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

so-called
prizes you've sent for already? Hundreds of dollars wasted. Thousands, by the
time we get done paying." She holds up the other envelope. "And what's this
for?"

"An indoor TV antenna." That isn't quite accurate, and doesn't begin to do
justice to the glory of the thing, but Nona is rattled. The way the dog is
carrying on shows how furious Lois really is. Nona never realized before.

Lois cries, "A TV antenna? What possessed you? You have a perfectly good
antenna
already."

"Oh, rip them up if you want," Nona says, jerking her chin at the envelopes.
"It
doesn't matter." This is probably true. In the long view, the sky view, it
probably does not matter at all.

"It matters that you-- would somebody please get that dog out of here?" Lois
waits until the children comply, taking refuge in the house. Then she goes on
more quietly. "It matters that you don't seem to under, and about your
situation. Mother, I don't know what to do with you. You're healthy, I know
you
want to keep living in your own home, but how can you if. . . . How in
Heaven's
name can you be so sharp about everything else and so dense about money?"

She sails into the house, calls Bill, arranges to take the children home to
save
him a trip. "I will pick up your mail tomorrow," she tells Nona as she leaves.
After everyone is gone, Nona hears the silence ringing like great soundless
bells.

She ought to put the owls back on the mantel, but does not. Instead she speaks
to the dog, who waggles his ears attentively at her. Lord only knows what he
is
thinking, but that doesn't mean he is dumb. It is just that his thoughts run
in
ways that are strange to her. "You are not stupid," she tells him. "Don't
listen
to them."

The house seems dark and small to Nona. She goes outside for a little walk,
taking the dog with her. He darts straight to the azalea bush, and much more
slowly she follows.

It is getting late in the day. The sun is low, the butterflies are sated, they
fly sluggishly if at all, and their shadows on the sand are dim. One hazy
skimming shape goes past; the dog pounces on it and springs after it a short
distance, then comes back. He stands with ears quivering and pricked so high