Darya Dontsova

Hot snowman love

Healthy food has only one drawback: it cannot be eaten.

My stomach began to make an indecent growl, I quickly pressed my bag to me in the hope that it would slightly drown out the bravura sounds. True, I am in a pharmacy, which means there is no need to be embarrassed by others. Behind me stands a couple, a boy and a girl, both barely thirty-five years old, and the guys are quite loudly discussing the merits and demerits of the condoms displayed in the window. Maybe I'm too old-fashioned, but asking the apothecary for item number 2 has always been beyond my powers. I remember that I gathered my courage for a long time, mentally prepared myself, covered myself with sweat, and then, blushing, said to the pharmacist:

- Give me ... er ... well ... what is it called ... citramone!

And it seemed absolutely incredible to me to go for the most primitive contraceptive in the company of a man, even with my own spouse. And the lovers behind me are chirping and giggling merrily, and I involuntarily turned out to be privy to their plans for the day: first they will go to the cinema, then to the guy’s house, prudently taking a few “rubber bands”, one of which will be in the form of a bunny. Or Mickey Mouse? Now they were just discussing the shape of the product.

My stomach growled again, I shuddered and instantly became angry with myself. Well, what kind of nonsense? Everyone can experience health problems. And, of course, I should not have eaten only a salad of three types of cabbage for a whole week, washing it down with carrot and beetroot juice. Why did I suddenly switch to a rabbit diet? I am ashamed to admit, but your humble servant, Mrs. Viola Tarakanova, fell victim to television.

A month ago I suddenly had a severe headache. A trip to the clinic did not clear up anything. The doctor offered to conduct examinations using modern equipment, do tests, pounded on me with a hammer, forced me to walk with my eyes closed and squat on one leg, and when I passed all the tests quite successfully, he delivered a verdict:

- As healthy as a cow.

No, he didn't say those words, of course. He mumbled something about fatigue, about the need for rest and a change of impressions, and then declared:

- You don't have any problems from the point of view of medicine.

“Great, doctor,” I said. But what about the head?

“It doesn’t hurt you,” the modern Hippocrates firmly stated. - You think it is! Drink valerian, it should help.

I got home, turned on the TV, closed one eye, and stared at the screen. So, I'm a psychopath, and I inspire ailments myself. Now my head is completely in order, and the perforator working under the skull is just a figment of my wild imagination. It is a pity that the Aesculapius did not advise anything effective against the dispersed fantasy. To distract myself, I focused on the screen, which showed a stocky, bald man in his fifties, standing on the top of his own head.

- It is best to do such exercises in the morning, - he broadcast in a completely calm voice, - a rush of blood into the cranium of many will relieve drowsiness, give vigor and increase efficiency.

With all my heart I envied this type: he is probably not familiar with such a phenomenon as migraine. At that very moment, as if eavesdropping on my thoughts, the presenter deftly returned to his normal position, sat down in a chair and announced:

For many years I suffered from terrible headaches. From traditional medicine there was little use, so I began to look for alternative ways of healing. And found! First of all, you need a healthy diet. So, the migraine diet ... Works flawlessly, helps everyone.

I grabbed a pen and frantically wrote down the recommendations. I was impressed with the dexterity with which a middle-aged man stood on top of his head, and then returned to his normal position. With bad vessels, such a trick cannot be done.

Since then, I began to live according to the system of Dr. Khronov. I won’t say that the path to health is easy, but no one promised me a quick result. And the TV healer also said that his book “The Road to Longevity” has recently been published, and it should become a desktop for everyone who wants to reach the centenary milestone in a strong mind, sound memory and in good physical shape.

I haven't gotten my hands on this brochure yet, but I'm trying to follow the diet recommended by the doctor. And I'll tell you what: healthy food is a great thing! First of all, because you will never exceed the calorie intake, because it is simply impossible to eat a lot of healthy food, it is very tasteless. But life offers us a choice: either pies with cabbage, cutlets with a golden crust, sweets, ice cream, Olivier salad and death on the eve of the fiftieth birthday from atherosclerosis, or dietary restrictions - and at one hundred and twenty years old you will be able to participate in a marathon run. I chose the latter, only now the devils are constantly playing tag in my stomach, and today I have to call on the Elephant publishing house. There are a few days left before the New Year, and those who publish my books (let me remind you: I write a detective story under the pseudonym Arina Violova) want to congratulate the author. It will be very uncomfortable if, at the moment of receiving the gifts, my stomach starts to play the symphony in A major.

The little drugstore I occasionally go to for cough drops is never full of customers, but today, when I was eagerly awaited at Elefant, there was a line at the counter. True, now there is only one girl left in front of me, but it seems that she simply does not know what she wants.

“Give me phenazepam,” the girl whined.

- Recipe! the inspector demanded.

“No,” sighed the customer.

– This medicine is sold under the signature of a doctor.

But I really need it!

- See a doctor.

“He won’t go to the registry office,” the girl sniffled. I'm talking about my fiancé. We have a wedding soon, and I wanted to give him phenazepam.

The pharmacist, an elderly plump person, looked sternly at the fragile figure in front of the counter and could not resist a reproachful remark:

“Child, the drug you demand is not candy. They just don't accept him just for the sake of entertainment!

“We have registration, and Lesha has become literally crazy,” the girl almost sobbed.

- Many men are nervous before going to the registry office, - the pharmacist thawed out, - buy valerian, an excellent remedy. If your fiancé is a little bit inadequate, that's okay.

"Yeah," the girl said whiningly. - Yesterday he spilled tea on the floor, and then took off his tie and wiped the puddle with it. This is fine?

A couple who wanted to buy condoms neighed out loud, and I left the queue and quickly moved to the publishing house. I really don't like to be late, the meeting with the editor is scheduled for noon, and the clock shows already ten past one ...

About two hours later, I went outside and began to pack a bunch of souvenirs received from the employees of Elefant into my small car. How many times have I noticed: women are much more inventive than men. Today, representatives of the strong half of the publishing house, all as one, presented the promising author with bouquets and boxes of chocolates, and the sets turned out to be the same, and the suspicion crept into my head that they were bought in bulk at the nearest store. But the women showed a fiction: I received scented candles, perfumed soap, wonderful figurines, a set of towels. But most of all, Anechka Larionova from the PR department distinguished herself - she presented me with a charming baby doll, packed in a lace envelope. The toy looked so much like a newborn that I was literally dumbfounded when Nyusha took out a bag from the closet.

- Do you keep the baby among the folders? I exclaimed in surprise.

Larionova laughed and handed me the "child".

To be honest, the doll was absolutely useless to me, but not to tell the truth to Nyusha, who spent both time and money running around the shops. And on the table among the mountains of books, Larionova also found a small brochure by Dr. Khronov “The Road to Longevity”, and I asked for it as an addition to the present.

Very pleased with the start of the day, I got behind the wheel and sharply pressed the gas. The car rushed forward, and a second later a woman's screech was heard from the right:

- Oh, mommy!

I braked, looked out the side window and jumped out of the car. A woman in a beige coat was standing on the sidewalk. Or rather, the clothes were like this a couple of seconds ago, now they were decorating them dark spots. winter in this year it turned out to be slushy, every now and then it begins to snow, which turns into a nasty rain, and I did not notice a rather deep puddle, drove into it and doused the unfortunate passerby with dirty water.

- I'm sorry! – I wailed, rushing to the victim. - It was an accident! I didn't mean to spoil you!

“I understand,” the stranger replied sadly. She took out a paper handkerchief from her bag, tried to erase the biggest stain that showed off right on her chest, and stated: “It got even worse.

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Hot snowman love Darya Dontsova

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Title: Snowman Hot Love

About the book "Hot love of a snowman" Daria Dontsova

Lived!!! My own ex-husband asks to investigate the crime instead of him! Okay, help Oleg! Moreover, I myself am interested in finding out who killed my new acquaintance, besides the double namesake - Viola Tarakanova. But upon closer inspection, it turned out to be not at all what it seemed. Yes, a terrible liar! Literally everyone spun from three boxes. What secrets are hidden in her life? And what does the unknown country of Mongoto have to do with it? It’s a very difficult task, but couriers from different offices constantly interfere with me - either they will deliver a funeral wreath as a New Year’s gift, or completely inedible food ... And the journalists completely buried the writer Viola Tarakanova!

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Viola Tarakanova. In the world of criminal passions - 22

Chapter 1

Healthy food has only one drawback: it cannot be eaten.

My stomach began to make an indecent growl, I quickly pressed my bag to me in the hope that it would slightly drown out the bravura sounds. True, I am in a pharmacy, which means there is no need to be embarrassed by others. Behind me stands a couple, a boy and a girl, both barely thirty-five years old, and the guys are quite loudly discussing the merits and demerits of the condoms displayed in the window. Maybe I'm too old-fashioned, but asking the apothecary for item number 2 has always been beyond my powers. I remember that I gathered my courage for a long time, mentally prepared myself, covered myself with sweat, and then, blushing, said to the pharmacist:

Give me ... er ... well ... what is it called ... citramone!

And it seemed absolutely incredible to me to go for the most primitive contraceptive in the company of a man, even with my own spouse. And the lovers behind me are chirping and giggling merrily, and I involuntarily turned out to be privy to their plans for the day: first they will go to the cinema, then to the guy’s house, prudently taking a few “rubber bands”, one of which will be in the form of a bunny. Or Mickey Mouse? Now they were just discussing the shape of the product.

My stomach growled again, I shuddered and instantly became angry with myself. Well, what kind of nonsense? Everyone can experience health problems. And, of course, I should not have eaten only a salad of three types of cabbage for a whole week, washing it down with carrot and beetroot juice. Why did I suddenly switch to a rabbit diet? I am ashamed to admit, but your humble servant, Mrs. Viola Tarakanova, fell victim to television.

A month ago I suddenly had a severe headache. A trip to the clinic did not clear up anything. The doctor offered to conduct examinations using modern equipment, do tests, pounded on me with a hammer, forced me to walk with my eyes closed and squat on one leg, and when I passed all the tests quite successfully, he delivered a verdict:

Healthy as a cow.

No, he didn't say those words, of course. He mumbled something about fatigue, about the need for rest and a change of impressions, and then said:

You don't have any medical problems.

Wonderful, doctor, - I was delighted. - But what to do with the head?

It doesn’t hurt you,” the modern Hippocrates firmly stated. - It seems to you! Drink valerian, it should help.

I got home, turned on the TV, closed one eye, and stared at the screen. So, I'm a psychopath, and I inspire ailments myself. Now my head is in perfect order, and the perforator working under the skull is just a figment of my wild imagination. It is a pity that the Aesculapius did not advise anything effective against the dispersed fantasy. To distract myself, I focused on the screen, which showed a stocky, balding man in his fifties, standing on the top of his own head.

It is best to do such exercises in the morning, - he broadcast in a completely calm voice, - a rush of blood into the cranium of many will relieve drowsiness, give vigor and increase efficiency.

With all my heart I envied this type: he is probably not familiar with such a phenomenon as migraine. At that very moment, as if eavesdropping on my thoughts, the presenter deftly returned to his normal position, sat down in a chair and announced:

For many years I suffered from terrible headaches. Traditional medicine was of little use, so I began to look for alternative ways of healing. And found! First of all, you need a healthy diet. So, the migraine diet ... Works flawlessly, helps everyone.

I grabbed a pen and frantically wrote down the recommendations.

Healthy food has only one drawback: it cannot be eaten.

My stomach began to make an indecent growl, I quickly pressed my bag to me in the hope that it would slightly drown out the bravura sounds. True, I am in a pharmacy, which means there is no need to be embarrassed by others. Behind me stands a couple, a boy and a girl, both barely thirty-five years old, and the guys are quite loudly discussing the merits and demerits of the condoms displayed in the window. Maybe I'm too old-fashioned, but asking the apothecary for item number 2 has always been beyond my powers. I remember that I gathered my courage for a long time, mentally prepared myself, covered myself with sweat, and then, blushing, said to the pharmacist:

- Give me ... er ... well ... what is it called ... citramone!

And it seemed absolutely incredible to me to go for the most primitive contraceptive in the company of a man, even with my own spouse. And the lovers behind me are chirping and giggling merrily, and I involuntarily turned out to be privy to their plans for the day: first they will go to the cinema, then to the guy’s house, prudently taking a few “rubber bands”, one of which will be in the form of a bunny. Or Mickey Mouse? Now they were just discussing the shape of the product.

My stomach growled again, I shuddered and instantly became angry with myself. Well, what kind of nonsense? Everyone can experience health problems. And, of course, I should not have eaten only a salad of three types of cabbage for a whole week, washing it down with carrot and beetroot juice. Why did I suddenly switch to a rabbit diet? I am ashamed to admit, but your humble servant, Mrs. Viola Tarakanova, fell victim to television.

A month ago I suddenly had a severe headache. A trip to the clinic did not clear up anything. The doctor offered to conduct examinations using modern equipment, do tests, pounded on me with a hammer, forced me to walk with my eyes closed and squat on one leg, and when I passed all the tests quite successfully, he delivered a verdict:

- As healthy as a cow.

No, he didn't say those words, of course. He mumbled something about fatigue, about the need for rest and a change of impressions, and then declared:

- You don't have any problems from the point of view of medicine.

“Great, doctor,” I said. But what about the head?

“It doesn’t hurt you,” the modern Hippocrates firmly stated. - You think it is! Drink valerian, it should help.

I got home, turned on the TV, closed one eye, and stared at the screen. So, I'm a psychopath, and I inspire ailments myself. Now my head is completely in order, and the perforator working under the skull is just a figment of my wild imagination. It is a pity that the Aesculapius did not advise anything effective against the dispersed fantasy. To distract myself, I focused on the screen, which showed a stocky, bald man in his fifties, standing on the top of his own head.

- It is best to do such exercises in the morning, - he broadcast in a completely calm voice, - a rush of blood into the cranium of many will relieve drowsiness, give vigor and increase efficiency.

With all my heart I envied this type: he is probably not familiar with such a phenomenon as migraine.

At that very moment, as if eavesdropping on my thoughts, the presenter deftly returned to his normal position, sat down in a chair and announced:

For many years I suffered from terrible headaches. Traditional medicine was of little use, so I began to look for alternative ways of healing. And found! First of all, you need a healthy diet. So, the migraine diet ... Works flawlessly, helps everyone.

I grabbed a pen and frantically wrote down the recommendations. I was impressed with the dexterity with which a middle-aged man stood on top of his head, and then returned to his normal position. With bad vessels, such a trick cannot be done.

Since then, I began to live according to the system of Dr. Khronov. I won’t say that the path to health is easy, but no one promised me a quick result. And the TV healer also said that his book “The Road to Longevity” has recently been published, and it should become a desktop for everyone who wants to reach the centenary milestone in a strong mind, sound memory and in good physical shape.

I haven't gotten my hands on this brochure yet, but I'm trying to follow the diet recommended by the doctor. And I'll tell you what: healthy food is a great thing! First of all, because you will never exceed the calorie intake, because it is simply impossible to eat a lot of healthy food, it is very tasteless. But life offers us a choice: either pies with cabbage, cutlets with a golden crust, sweets, ice cream, Olivier salad and death on the eve of the fiftieth birthday from atherosclerosis, or dietary restrictions - and at one hundred and twenty years old you will be able to participate in a marathon run. I chose the latter, only now the devils are constantly playing tag in my stomach, and today I have to call on the Elephant publishing house. There are a few days left before the New Year, and those who publish my books (let me remind you: I write a detective story under the pseudonym Arina Violova) want to congratulate the author. It will be very uncomfortable if, at the moment of receiving the gifts, my stomach starts to play the symphony in A major.

The little drugstore I occasionally go to for cough drops is never full of customers, but today, when I was eagerly awaited at Elefant, there was a line at the counter. True, now there is only one girl left in front of me, but it seems that she simply does not know what she wants.

“Give me phenazepam,” the girl whined.

- Recipe! the inspector demanded.

“No,” sighed the customer.

– This medicine is sold under the signature of a doctor.

But I really need it!

- See a doctor.

“He won’t go to the registry office,” the girl sniffled. I'm talking about my fiancé. We have a wedding soon, and I wanted to give him phenazepam.

The pharmacist, an elderly plump person, looked sternly at the fragile figure in front of the counter and could not resist a reproachful remark:

“Child, the drug you demand is not candy. They just don't accept him just for the sake of entertainment!

“We have registration, and Lesha has become literally crazy,” the girl almost sobbed.

- Many men are nervous before going to the registry office, - the pharmacist thawed out, - buy valerian, an excellent remedy. If your fiancé is a little bit inadequate, that's okay.

"Yeah," the girl said whiningly. - Yesterday he spilled tea on the floor, and then took off his tie and wiped the puddle with it. This is fine?

A couple who wanted to buy condoms neighed out loud, and I left the queue and quickly moved to the publishing house. I really don't like to be late, the meeting with the editor is scheduled for noon, and the clock shows already ten past one ...

About two hours later, I went outside and began to pack a bunch of souvenirs received from the employees of Elefant into my small car. How many times have I noticed: women are much more inventive than men. Today, representatives of the strong half of the publishing house, all as one, presented the promising author with bouquets and boxes of chocolates, and the sets turned out to be the same, and the suspicion crept into my head that they were bought in bulk at the nearest store. But the women showed a fiction: I received scented candles, perfumed soap, wonderful figurines, a set of towels. But most of all, Anechka Larionova from the PR department distinguished herself - she presented me with a charming baby doll, packed in a lace envelope. The toy looked so much like a newborn that I was literally dumbfounded when Nyusha took out a bag from the closet.

- Do you keep the baby among the folders? I exclaimed in surprise.

Larionova laughed and handed me the "child".

To be honest, the doll was absolutely useless to me, but not to tell the truth to Nyusha, who spent both time and money running around the shops. And on the table among the mountains of books, Larionova also found a small brochure by Dr. Khronov “The Road to Longevity”, and I asked for it as an addition to the present.

Very pleased with the start of the day, I got behind the wheel and sharply pressed the gas. The car rushed forward, and a second later a woman's screech was heard from the right:

- Oh, mommy!

I braked, looked out the side window and jumped out of the car. A woman in a beige coat was standing on the sidewalk. Or rather, the clothes were like this a couple of seconds ago, but now they were decorated with dark spots. Winter this year turned out to be slushy, every now and then it begins to snow, which turns into nasty rain, and I did not notice a rather deep puddle, drove into it and doused the unfortunate passerby with dirty water.

- I'm sorry! – I wailed, rushing to the victim. - It was an accident! I didn't mean to spoil you!

“I understand,” the stranger replied sadly. She took out a paper handkerchief from her bag, tried to erase the biggest stain that showed off right on her chest, and stated: “It got even worse.

“I’m very uncomfortable,” I said, upset. Take money for dry cleaning.

- Thank you, don't, - the victim refused intelligently, - I'll throw out my coat.

“Let’s go to the store, I’ll buy you a new one,” I suggested.

- Well, what are you! – unexpectedly smiling, refused woman. - And in general, this is the finger of God!

- What? - I did not understand.

The stranger smiled sadly.

– Soon New Year. The saddest day for me.

- You do not like this holiday? I was surprised.

“Not for some time now,” the woman replied. - Dont be upset. Perhaps a small incident is a sign to me that I need to forget the past. I put on a coat on purpose today, as you can see, it is not very suitable for winter - it is too light and light.

- But hard frost No, I remarked. - Do you want to extend autumn?

“No,” the interlocutor sighed. And she explained: - It was bought for me by my husband, who died last year. Just presented for the New Year. Sergey traveled a lot on business trips and always brought something back. The coat was the last gift, and I decided that today it is simply necessary to wear it.

I became completely uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I accidentally drove into a damned puddle!”

“No, everything turned out great,” the woman declared somehow feverishly. - I told you: this is a sign from above. Olya, stop crying over the past. It's very good that the thing is spoiled, it only bothered me! I open the closet, I see a coat, and my heart turns over! It had long been necessary to throw it away, because because of him Seryozha died. See the buttons?

“Yes,” I nodded.

- There used to be others here, metal ones. Seryozha returned from a business trip in the morning, - the woman continued, - he was in a hurry to be in time for the New Year. Arrived at nine in the morning, took out a new thing. I tried it on and was delighted: as if sewn to my measurements! Sergei knew how to buy things, never made a mistake. I stand in front of the mirror, admiring myself. Suddenly I see: two buttons are missing. The husband was upset at first, and then said:

- Olya, while you wash your face, have breakfast, and I'll run away to the store. I'll buy new buttons, you change them, and everything will be all right.

I should have stopped him - my husband was just from a business trip, he was very tired. But I so wanted to appear at work in a beautiful piece of clothing, then, after all, there were also warm days, so I said: “Thank you, dear.”

Seryozha left, I didn’t worry for two hours, I thought he was looking for suitable fittings. And then she began to call on a cell phone, but only no answer, no hello, the device keeps saying: "The subscriber is not available." And again, I didn’t twitch, I decided that the phone’s battery was dead, and my husband forgot to recharge it. I was so insensitive...

Olga lowered her head, was silent. I didn't know what to say either.

- In the evening they called from the traffic police, - Olga continued. - They reported that the car crashed into a pole, the driver died on the spot. The husband lost control on a slippery road.

“Terrible,” I said.

The interlocutor nodded.

- Yes. That year was absolutely terrible. First, dad died, quite suddenly. He was relatively young, under sixty. Actively went in for sports, did not drink, did not smoke.

Also a car accident? I asked.

– What are your plans for today? I decided to take the conversation in a different direction.

Olga shrugged.

- I wanted to take a walk, get rid of bitter thoughts. But now I'll go back to the apartment and lie down on the sofa in front of the TV.

“Get in the car,” I said decisively.

- Why? Olga was amazed.

- First I will take you home, where you will change clothes, and then we will go to a cozy restaurant together.

“Thank you, no need,” Olga began to refuse.

“I’m very embarrassed about your ruined coat,” I said, “I want to at least a little make amends for my fault.

“There is no need to take me to dinner,” Olya resisted. Don't disrupt the rhythm of your life over a trifle.

“We are celebrating Christmas today with close friends,” I explained, “we are going to a quiet place. I invite you to join us. Nothing special is expected: champagne and delicious food.

The new acquaintance suddenly laughed:

- Christmas? It's early January! Have you confused anything? Or are you a Catholic?

“To be honest, I am not a church person,” I admitted, “and my friends are atheists. But every year at the end of December we celebrate “not our Christmas”. I do not know why such a tradition has developed. Probably, this is an occasion to chat, give each other cute trifles, raise a glass of wine.

“I’ll break your company,” Olya sighed, “actually, I’m rather shy, I close myself in front of strangers.

“You will enjoy our company,” I promised. - By God, it's better to sit in a restaurant than to stare at the telly, yearning in an empty apartment. And I won't feel like I caused a person trouble on New Year's Eve.

“All right,” Olya suddenly agreed, “thank you.

I opened the front door.

- Get in!

- Can I sit in the back? Olya got nervous. “I don’t feel comfortable around the driver.

“Of course,” I nodded. “Just move the books and tell me the address.”

For some time we drove in silence, then Olya asked:

- Do you like the writer Arina Violova? There are many of her novels here!

“Yes,” I chuckled, deciding not to go into details. You never know how a half-familiar woman treats detectives, all of a sudden she can’t stand them, it’s better to remain incognito.

- You know, this is her pseudonym, - Olya said, - in fact, the writer's name is Viola Tarakanova.

Are you a fan of the crime genre? I asked cautiously, stealing a glance in the rearview mirror.

- I love detectives! Olya exclaimed with a challenge. - Not far from the puddle, because of which we met, there is a publishing house, there is a stall in the hall, selling books at a wholesale price. I was just going there - holidays are ahead, I need to fill them with something, I wanted to enjoy police stories. Well, okay, I'll get to Elefant tomorrow.

- Rummage through the books, - I suggested, - there is a completely new story by Violova, take it to yourself as a gift under the Christmas tree.

- Oh, great! Olya was obviously delighted. “It’s inconvenient to rob you, but I can’t let go of a fresh detective. This Tarakanova earns well, I read an interview with her in a glossy magazine, there were pictures from the new apartment of the writer. The furniture is beautiful, the kitchen is chic.

“The incomes of writers are greatly exaggerated by journalists,” I said quickly.

Maybe before it's too late, I should introduce myself? Suddenly Olya will start a conversation on the topic: “Some are lucky! They don't do a damn thing, but thousands rob! They draw with a pen on paper and live chocolate!”

But she suddenly said something completely different:

“I recently bought a book on the meaning of names. The author claims that the namesakes have the same talents. Maybe I should try writing novels?

– A good idea, I approved. - What is your profession?

- A dressmaker, - Olya answered, - I work in a large store. They bring us trousers to hem or adjust a skirt - a person in a boutique will buy a thing, but it is not in size. Not a bad service, the salary, however, is small, but the tips are good. The shopping center never closes, I sit there for a day, then two rest, there is time for literature classes.

Are there really people who buy clothes at night? I was surprised.

- Full! Olya laughed.

- If you have free hours, you can try to study prose, - I supported the conversation. “But why do they have the same names?”

Olga laughed.

– My name is Viola Tarakanova. Probably, I also have the gift of a prose writer, but so far I have not been able to develop it.

Chapter 2

I jumped in surprise, then parked the car and turned around:

- What is your name?

“Viola Tarakanova,” the woman repeated.

“But you introduced yourself as Olga,” I reminded him.

The passenger raised her eyebrows.

“It’s hard for you to imagine what it’s like to live with such an idiotic last name and with an equally stupid name. My mother was very romantic. She read historical novels and from childhood decided: if she had a daughter, she would name her Viola. But my mother didn’t take into account that she would come across a husband with the surname Tarakanov. By the way, my father was against the name Viola, he told his mother: “ Better girl give the name Tanya or Olya.

But the mother balked. And here is the result for you - they teased me with “remnants” at school.

- Soap? I asked.

The new friend nodded.

- When I was little, they sold imported soap, on the wrapper of which a blond beauty was drawn, and it was called "Viola". And I'm a brown-haired brown eyes, was never pretty. Do you understand?

I glanced at the butter-colored bangs visible from under the wool cap.

- Brown hair? I think you are blonde.

The interlocutor took off her headdress.

- Recently I brightened up and made a bob, so I look younger. I used to have hair hanging below my shoulders, I'm tired of it! For a long time I wanted to change my appearance, but my father did not allow it. Even when I became an adult, I forbade dyeing my hair. And in school years and even more so. How many tears I shed as a child! I even had a nervous breakdown. Of course, the fact that just at that moment my mother went to the hospital and did not come out of it also played a role. Dad was then confused and sent me to Aunt Nina, his sister. There I went to school and immediately introduced myself to the new place as Olya Tarakanova. Aunt Nina turned out to be a wonderful person, she agreed with the director of the school, and under this name I was recorded in the magazine. Since then, I have always introduced myself this way, the real name was preserved only in official documents.

“That just can’t be…” I muttered. - I was also teased - "Cheese brush" because of the processed cheese "Viola". But I did not sob, but fought with the offenders, and in the end they got rid of me. No one wanted to walk around with a bloody nose!

The new acquaintance closed her eyes and only now guessed to ask:

- What is your name?

I pulled out my license and handed it to her.

- Oh, really? the woman gasped.

“Looks like it is,” I nodded.

My namesake pulled out her passport from her bag.

– Look! We should probably switch to "you". So there are three of us!

- And who is the third one? - I was completely stunned.

- Arina Violova! Olya shocked me with my book. - She is also Viola Tarakanova.

I smiled:

- You didn’t understand, I am Arina Violova. I'm sorry, I didn't feel like talking right away, some people react very inadequately to a meeting with the author of detective stories. Well, at least your father's name was not Leninid!

- No, he was Oleg Efremovich, - Olya answered. “Listen, does this really happen?

“As you can see, yes,” I laughed.

All the way to Olya's apartment, we compared our biographies and realized that we had nothing in common, except for the name and surname. I never knew my mother and didn’t meet my father until my adulthood [Viola’s biography is described in detail in Darya Dontsova’s book The Devil from the Snuffbox, Eksmo Publishing House]. Olya lived in a complete family, and when her mother died, she found herself in the town of Klyazino near Moscow, where the girl was raised by her aunt. We are completely different people, even outwardly dissimilar, we are united only by the first and last name, and if I prefer to be called Vilka, then the namesake is used to the name Olga.

- Why did you stay Tarakanova? I was surprised. “As far as I understand, you were married.

“Daddy was very proud of his last name,” Olga answered angrily, “so he demanded that I leave it. And my husband, Seryozha Kharitonov, did not protest, he was generally non-confrontational.

My friends, having learned that two Viola Tarakanovs were present at the party, first opened their mouths, and then began to toast non-stop. Olya suddenly cheered up, it was clear that she liked the company. Moreover, Lenya Martynov, after joking with his wife Galya, ran to the nearest flower shop and brought Olya a huge bouquet of roses, to which a cute velor bunny was tied. The rest of the guests looked at each other and began to disappear one by one from the table. They returned with presents for Olga. You can’t buy anything interesting in a hurry, so the gifts turned out to be stereotyped: a vase made of blue glass, a notebook-diary on next year and a couple of plush toys. But Olya was moved, and in her voice, when she thanked the donors, there were tears.

Around eight in the evening, Olya called her friend. It looks like she was in the hospital, I heard my namesake joyfully exclaim:

- Ritula, like a seam, does not hurt? Great! Most importantly, listen to your doctor. Oh, you won't believe it, I'm in a restaurant! Imagine being outside today...