Читать онлайн «Still Life with Bread Crumbs»
Автор Анна Квиндлен
Copyright © 2014 by Anna Quindlen
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House, an imprint and division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
RANDOM HOUSE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Quindlen, Anna.
Still life with bread crumbs: a novel / Anna Quindlen.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-4000-6575-2
eBook ISBN 978-0-8129-9575-6
1. Life change events—Fiction. I.
Title.PS3567. U336S75 2014
813′. 54—dc23
2013015992
Jacket design: Laura Klynstra
Jacket image: Francesco Simeti,
v3. 1
Contents
No Outlets
How She Wound Up There–The Inspirational Version
Not Inspiring
How She Wound Up There—The Money Version
Knew It When She Saw It
Knew It When He Saw It
So Here’s the Deal
She Knew It
Family of Origin
Family of Origin
The Dog Arrives, and Leaves Again
Enter Tad, a Big Fan
Get a Job
Sitting in a Tree
A Good Grilled Cheese Sandwich
Cucumber Sandwiches
Rebecca’s Mouth
A Woman Without a Man
Fish, Bicycle
One Turkey After Another
Thanksgiving 2010
Leftover Turkey
The Dog Returns, and Stays
Sitting in a Tree, Again
Safe as Houses
Merry Christmas!
This Is How These Things Happen, Part One
This Is How These Things Happen, Part Two
What Came Next–Her
What Happened Next—Him
Polly Bates
The Storm
What in the World Was That?
What in the World Was That?
Lying Low
Dog Pictures
Papa Gone
Papa Gone
Papa Gone
Shivah
More Shivah
A Young Agent, an Old Photographer
What Happens Next
The White Cross Series
Mysterious and Heartbreaking
The Flag
Struck by Lightning
Not Mysterious
The White Cross Series–The Reviews
The White Cross Series–The Present
(The White Cross Series–Much Later
Lasagna at Last
A Second Chance
Later
Still Life with Tin Roof
NO OUTLETS
A few minutes after two in the morning Rebecca Winter woke to the sound of a gunshot and sat up in bed.
Well, to be completely accurate, she had no idea what time it was. When she had moved into the ramshackle cottage in a hollow halfway up the mountain, it had taken her two days to realize that there was a worrisome soft spot in the kitchen floor, a loose step out to the backyard, and not one electrical outlet in the entire bedroom. She stood, turning in a circle, her old alarm clock in her hand trailing its useless tail of a cord, as though, like some magic spell, a few rotations and some muttered curses would lead to a place to plug it in. Like much of what constituted Rebecca’s life at that moment, the clock had been with her far past the time when it was current or useful.
