"WILHELM, KATE - JUSTICE FOR SOME" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

sweating. "We'll go with that' It looks good." After the men gathered up
their equipment and loaded everything onto heavy wagons and left, Winnie
walked around the small area critically, thinking about light, about
shadows, about two people filling that space and not getting in each
other's way... The sky was brilliant-too brilliant? She considered it,
then forgot it. Not much to be done about the sky.

Here in East Shasta, California, the sky was almost always brilliant
blue, the sun almost always glaring white, the air almost always
oven-dry.

She glanced around for her brother Virgil, but he had vanished back to
the greenhouses or the tropical dome, or somewhere. It didn't matter,
not yet. Today she was getting things ready, in the morning they would
tape.

Winnie was a month short of twenty-seven, one year out of graduate
school which she had not actually finished, and this was the third video
for her. And the most important. The other two had been simple indoor
training films, done within a few hours; this project would take a week
or longer. At the moment she wasn't altogether sure she would be paid
for it. Oh, she'd be paid for the materials, certainly, and the
processing, but her time? Maybe, Virgil had said, and had not referred
to it again, although, she thought darkly, he knew she was dead broke.

She believed she had no illusions about herself when actually she was
much harder on herself than anyone else was. She was sturdily built,
muscular from running every day, with a body she thought of as simply
heavy and others saw as strong, well-built, even beautifully muscled.

All that people saw of her, she had always believed, was her hair and
her freckles; now she could feel freckles popping out all over her legs,
her cheeks, her arms. She moved into the shade of the poplar trees.

What the workmen called her, she also knew, was "the Flaming Bush."

"The aridity here made her frizzy red hair more frizzy than ever, a
flaming bush.

She let her gaze wander over the rest of the grounds, two acres of water
gardens and greenhouses, with hardly enough room to park a car anymore.

The pond they would start digging in the morning was the sixth and last
of a series, no two alike: different sizes, shape - S, different plants.

And she would put the catalog together for it all, her biggest job to
date, her most important even if she never made a penny from it. A
catalog and a video.

She started to walk toward the tropical dome where she had decided