Worst competition ever. Especially if the man is one of those “married to his work.”
– Sydney.
– No. I'll try to find out more. Need time. Can you cope here without me?
– How can we cope? Dinner will be brought. I'll find a bedroom.
– Fine. – Charlotte disappeared again, like yesterday in the ritual room. And I suddenly thought that I didn’t even know where her front door was, let alone open it. And she went looking. And in general – look around.
It is unlikely that Charlotte was particularly neat – I did not notice that special, ideally symmetrical order that is achieved only by boring pedantry. A winter coat was still hanging in the hallway, and closed shoes were next to sandals. But the cleanliness reigned in perfection – of course, if it can be achieved with a wave of the hand. Millions of housewives will envy them with black envy…
The front door opened with a light touch, although it was locked – I heard a quiet click of the lock. The door, by the way, was unusual, although in London you can sometimes see such in old houses. With a square viewing window covered with a bronze grille and a bronze door knocker, polished to a red shine, in the form of a coiled dragon. But I didn’t find a bell, a very ordinary doorbell. What is it – guests are knocking here? And how, I wonder, can you hear from the second floor?
From the outside, the cottage looked like a fairy tale house. The red brick was barely visible through the green ivy and blooming climbing roses, white and deep scarlet. The small front garden is full of flowers – tall mallows, bright multi-colored phlox, a Chinese lilac bush, asparagus lace and bluish hosta leaves, lush petunias and nasturtiums in flowerpots floating in the air without any noticeable support… Magic? For some reason I couldn’t believe that Charlotte had created such beauty herself. Very thoughtful combinations of colors, the work of a garden designer is visible. And how to take care of all this? It seems that, in addition to watering, you need some kind of fertilizing? I'll have to ask. In a week, if…
The sun was falling behind the hilly horizon. The scarlet sunset evoked thoughts that were very far from optimistic. “So where is the vaunted fast delivery?” I returned to the house in irritation.
The order was waiting on the table in the living room. Pizza, fruit drink, beer. Advertising booklet. What, no couriers? What about payment? Okay, questions can be put off until Charlotte returns. I'll go find a glass. I'll be drinking booze down my throat in a week. Not earlier.
The beer turned out to be unusual, with an islandy-bitter aftertaste. But it pleasantly coated the tongue, was cold and softly hit the head – what else do you need, one wonders, in another world, in someone else’s house and with a piece of hot pizza in your hand. But it ended unexpectedly quickly, so I went to explore the second floor only with pizza – it was definitely tastier than anything I had tried before, “impossible to put down,” as they say in the advertisement. And why didn’t I order two at once? Although who’s stopping you from repeating it tomorrow?
On the second floor, in addition to Charlotte’s bedroom and the guest room, there was a rather strange room, which, apparently, was intended as an office with a library. But Charlotte's entire library consisted of a stack of glossy magazines and several romance novels in paperback, travel format – books that you wouldn't mind forgetting on the train. As for the office, it seems that she fulfilled and exceeded the daily work quota during the day, and preferred to relax at home. But how to relax… I looked in confusion at a piece of floor about two by two yards, covered with something like rubber stitched with metal. For some reason there was no desire to attack there. What could it be? Whatever! From a treadmill to a magical version of some hellish computer shooter. ? black matte wall opposite? Very similar to the screen of a turned off TV or laptop! Not counting the size – if this is really a screen, then it will be of the “mega-cool home theater” class.
– To enable or not to enable? – the last piece of pizza went into my stomach with pleasant satiety, and I waved my hand: – ?, tomorrow!
The screen lit up.
“Tomorrow we will have a pleasant sunny day,” the announcer said. Her trouser suit, azure with a turquoise tint, would do justice to the trends of the season, and her smile would serve as an excellent advertisement for some advanced magical dentistry. – No precipitation, northwest wind, from weak to moderate. Air temperature at night…
“To hell with the weather,” I said gloomily. After all, I wasn’t going to turn it on at all! Although now at least it is clear that this is a TV, and not some…
– event poster? – asked the doll-announcer.
– Turn off. I have to go to work.
I got there and I’m arguing with the TV! What's next? Will the washing machine enslave me, or what replaces them here? By the way, you should check your wardrobe. It looks like a closet in the bedroom.
The TV turned off as soon as I stepped beyond the threshold of the room. Apparently, before this happy moment, he hoped that I would change my mind…
The closet was bursting with a wide variety of clothes. But, in the best tradition of jokes, my first reaction was a classic feminine one:
– There’s nothing to wear!
Charlotte clearly spared no expense on the latest fashionable items. Although I had a hard time imagining how they would fit with the chilly autumn weather: slush, rain and fog. Short flared skirts and open sundresses, tight T-shirts and tops. A dozen cocktail and evening dresses – too open, provocatively revealing. Everything is bright, evoking thoughts of the beach, dance parties and even dates. Yes, probably this fuchsia color should suit me – I held the dress to me and nodded approvingly, looking in the mirror. Or that cornflower blue one… But, my God, not for work!
Trousers were conditionally suitable for work – conditionally, because I would have preferred black or neutral beige, rather than the red-brown ones I was wearing today, or the bright blue, olive and crimson ones hanging in the closet. Raspberry pants! Nightmare!
And not a single one, NOT ONE! Classic blouse. Not white or anything like that.
Yes, if you show up at the department in this crimson horror and sticking beacon… It’s surprising that the professor is only hiding behind a newspaper, in his place I would probably crawl under the table.
Decidedly going downstairs to the bonus cards scattered all over the table, I found a business card of either an atelier or a boutique – I didn’t even bother to look into it. She squeezed, desperately thinking about a strict work outfit – black trousers of a classic cut, a white blouse – fitted, tailored to the figure, but closed and modest.
It jerked as if someone had roughly pulled my hand. And I ended up… apparently still in the studio. A rack with fabric samples, a display case with buttons, lace, fasteners…
And either the hostess or the master, plump, at first glance, attractive to me, who smiled affably at me and asked with frank curiosity:
– Miss Blair? What's wrong?! So suddenly – and so strikingly different from your usual orders!
“I want to impress a man with certain tastes,” I answered honestly. It is always better to hide the big truth, putting forward a small and not the most important part of it…
– Oh-oh-oh… I understand! Now we’ll dress you up, Miss Blair, no doubt, the chosen one will be impressed and smitten.
“Oh yes, I’m smitten,” I thought
