“Sixty kilograms.”
The butcher’s knife stopped in his hand. In fifteen years of working in the trade, he had handled large orders for cafeterias and small restaurants, but he had never sold such a quantity of meat to a lonely elderly woman of very modest means.
“Did I hear you correctly? The full sixty kilograms?”
“That’s right. Pack it securely so I can carry it.”
Her answer was firm, but her trembling lips and anxious eyes betrayed her nervousness. Ostap began preparing the order, glancing at his customer more and more frequently.
“You must be planning a big feast,” he remarked.
The woman flinched slightly and hurriedly adjusted her headscarf.
“My son has come home. We haven’t seen each other in a long time, so I want to make sure he eats well. He loves roast beef.”
Lydia Stepanovna spoke in short, abrupt sentences and kept her eyes lowered. Ostap asked no further questions. He divided the purchase into several packages and told her the total.
