Out Оf Circulation

SIX

All the rest of that day and the next I stewed over Vera’s threats against Justin and Diesel; I replayed the scene in my head several times a day. But I saw no evidence that she followed through with either threat.

Should I have been more conciliatory?

No, the end result wouldn’t have changed. I could not let her have access to the Ducote papers, no matter what she swore to do.

Perhaps Vera blustered more than she bit. Many bullies talked big but didn’t follow through with their threats. I tried to comfort myself with that thought, but I remained preoccupied with my concerns. I confided in no one, though, because I didn’t want to alarm my family unduly.

Vera didn’t reappear at the archives or come to the public library on Friday when I did my volunteer stint, Diesel at my side. I braced myself for a confrontation from the moment I walked in the door that day, because Vera often turned up on Fridays. For all her faults she was a voracious reader and usually ripped through five or six books a week, mostly romances and thrillers. As the end of my volunteer shift approached, however, there had been no sign of her.

Miss Dickce Ducote came in a few minutes before three and approached me at the reference desk. The moment she said hello, Diesel, snoozing at my feet, perked up and stretched before loping around the desk to rub himself against her legs. I waited while Miss Dickce cooed over my cat and rubbed his head. Diesel rewarded her with purrs and chirps, and other people nearby looked on indulgently. Diesel was popular with library patrons, and I knew quite a few of them waited until Fridays to visit the library, just so they could see him.

“He is such a lovely boy. Aren’t you, Diesel?” Miss Dickce kept her hand on the cat’s head as she focused on me. “Charlie, I know this is a terrible imposition, and awfully last-minute, but An’gel and I were hoping you might join us at River Hill this afternoon for tea. Diesel, too, of course.”

“It’s no imposition at all.” Miss Dickce spoke so charmingly that I couldn’t refuse, even had I wanted to. I had nothing special planned for the afternoon, and I knew Diesel would love being fussed over by the sisters. “Diesel and I are delighted to accept your invitation.”

Miss Dickce smiled. “You are always the gentleman.” She glanced down at the cat. “You, too, you gorgeous thing.” She faced me again. “How about four o’clock? Will that be convenient for you?”

I assured her that it would, and after a final pat on the head for Diesel, Miss Dickce left the library.

Diesel and I headed home soon after. I wanted to freshen up a bit before we drove out to River Hill. I toyed with the idea of changing into a suit, because somehow an invitation to tea from the Ducote sisters seemed to merit the formality. I wavered, wondering whether I was being foolish, but quickly decided that I wasn’t. The sisters always dressed impeccably, and since this was my first invitation to tea with them, I figured I should live up to the standards they set.

Attired in a dark suit, white shirt, and deep purple tie, I pointed the car toward the outskirts of Athena. Our destination lay several miles to the west of the city limits, in the gently rolling hills. Diesel stared intently out the window in the backseat, alert to the fact that we were not taking one of our usual routes. He rarely went into the country, so the terrain here was strange to him.

I wondered what lay behind this invitation to River Hill. Miss Dickce hadn’t said Diesel and I would be the only guests for tea, so perhaps this was to be an impromptu Friends of the Library board meeting. That thought caused me some anxiety. Would Vera be there? I wasn’t sure I wanted to face her again so soon after that scene in my office. Good manners prevailed, however. I had accepted the invitation, and I wasn’t going to turn the car around and head home just because Vera might attend.

With a start I realized we were nearing the turn from the highway onto the Ducote estate. The driveway wound through an acre of trees vivid with autumn hues of red, yellow, and orange. After a sharp bend in the road the house came into sight, the last hundred yards or so of the drive was bordered by huge, ancient oak trees. When we cleared the trees, I could see the house more clearly.

The builder of River Hill, Beauregard Ducote, chose the Greek Revival style, much in vogue in the 1830s when the house was erected. Tall columns stretched across the front of the three-story house. Larger than many of its contemporaries, River Hill featured galleries around both upper floors. The view from there would be stunning, I was sure. The white paint of the house glistened in the late-afternoon sunlight, but shadows from the tall oaks crept ever closer.

Diesel followed closely by my side as I strode up the walk and onto the verandah. In answer to my knock, the door opened almost immediately. Miss Dickce smiled and bade us enter.

The interior of River Hill appeared as elegant as the exterior. A grand staircase led to the upper stories, and the marble floor, where it was bare of antique rugs, gleamed in the light.

“Welcome to River Hill, Charlie, Diesel.”

Miss An’gel approached us through a door to my right and extended her hand. I shook it gently, then released it as she switched her attention to my cat.

The preliminaries of petting Diesel out of the way, we followed the elder Ducote sister into the front parlor. The room reminded me somewhat of the parlor at the Delacorte mansion, simply but beautifully furnished with period pieces. Several portraits and small paintings graced the walls. Miss An’gel invited me to sit in an armchair that proved sturdy despite its delicate appearance. The slender, highly polished arms felt smooth and cool to my touch, and the cushioned seat was surprisingly comfortable.

The Ducotes occupied a nearby sofa close to the fireplace, leaving room for Diesel to spread himself between them. He placed his head in Miss An’gel’s lap, while his tail flopped across Miss Dickce’s legs. The sisters appeared happy with this arrangement, though I winced to think how much cat hair they would have to remove later on from their black dresses.

Miss An’gel pointed to the portrait over the fireplace. “Our ancestor, Beauregard Ducote, who built River Hill.”

I gazed with interest at the gentleman. I had heard his name often enough but had never seen an image of him. From what I could discern from the artist’s vision, Beauregard Ducote was a man of intelligence. Handsome, with a strong nose and an easy smile. Both the sisters favored their ancestor. “Who was the artist?”

“C. R. Parker,” Miss Dickce replied. “He was quite well-known in the antebellum South. He had a studio in New Orleans.”

“As I recall he received a commission for some portraits in the Louisiana Capitol in the 1820s.” I saw some of Parker’s works in an exhibition a few years ago.

“Yes, that is correct.” Miss An’gel inclined her head and bestowed a smile upon me, I assumed in approval of my knowledge.

“Here is Clementine with our tea.”

At Miss Dickce’s words I glanced toward the door to see an elderly woman approaching us pushing a tea cart in front of her. She wore a black maid’s uniform complete with frilly white apron and lace cuffs at her wrists. Her head was bare of a cap, however, and her mocha-colored skin made her silvery hair even more striking.

“Thank you, Clementine, I will pour.” Miss An’gel nodded at her employee, and Clementine rolled the cart to a stop in front of her. She flashed a quick smile at me, but her gaze appeared riveted on Diesel.

“Is that a bobcat?” she asked, her voice deep and raspy. She sounded like a lifelong heavy smoker.

“No, ma’am. He’s a Maine Coon cat, and they can get to be really big. His name is Diesel, and he’s large even for a Maine Coon.” I smiled up at Clementine. “He’s actually a sweet-natured cat and very friendly.”

“Yes, sir.” Clementine grinned. “That the biggest ol’ cat I ever did see. I reckon I heard about him from Azalea Berry.” With that she turned and left the room.

“I believe Clementine was a good friend of Azalea’s late mother.” Miss An’gel began to pour out the tea, and Miss Dickce prepared a small plate of cookies for me.

I accepted both, worried that I might have one of my clumsy spells and pour tea all over the no-doubt priceless carpet underneath my chair.

Miss Dickce evidently picked up on my anxiety. She pointed to a small table at my elbow that I had overlooked. “There’s a table and a coaster all ready for you, Charlie.”

“Thank you.” I set the cup and saucer down gently. When I focused on the sisters again, I noticed that Miss An’gel had a small plate of what looked like chicken.

“Is it okay to give Diesel a little treat? I thought it would be rude of us not to include him, and Clementine cooked the chicken this afternoon.” Miss An’gel cocked her head to one side as she regarded me.

“That’s very kind of you.” I would have to watch what Diesel cadged from the dinner table tonight, but I figured a little chicken now wouldn’t hurt him.

Miss An’gel fed Diesel a couple of small bites of the chicken before passing the plate to her sister. Diesel quickly shifted position to keep the treats in sight.

I sampled one of the cookies, oatmeal raisin, and almost groaned aloud in pleasure. My expression surely communicated my happiness.

The sisters exchanged a smile, and Miss An’gel chuckled. “Yes, Clementine has quite the touch when it comes to baking.” She wiped her fingers on a linen napkin, then set it aside. Her tone turned brisk as she continued, “We’re delighted you could join us for tea this afternoon, Charlie. I’m sure you must be wondering, though, why we invited you here on such short notice.”

I set my teacup down with extreme care as I answered. “Yes, ma’am, I do admit to being curious.”

“My sister and I wanted to express our thanks, privately, of course, for the way you stood up to Vera Cassity yesterday. We know she threatened to retaliate.”

My jaw dropped in surprise. How on earth had the Ducote sisters found out about the episode? I hadn’t told anyone, and I couldn’t imagine even Vera having the gall to take her complaint directly to Miss An’gel or Miss Dickce.

As I struggled to frame a reply, Miss Dickce spoke. “We have our sources for what goes on in Athena. People tend to tell us things, and Vera isn’t always as discreet as she should be.”

“Especially when she’s annoyed with someone.” Miss An’gel shook her head. “Even after all this time, she never has learned that it doesn’t pay to shoot your mouth off to all and sundry.”

I could well imagine. Vera Cassity didn’t seem like the type to suffer in silence.

“She did make a couple of threats.” I really didn’t want to go into specifics and was hoping the sisters would let it rest at that.

“You don’t need to have any fears about Diesel,” Miss Dickce said with a serene smile. “Vera won’t be able to do a thing to harm him.” She stroked the cat’s head as he sniffed at the now-empty plate, eager for more tidbits. “Not this beautiful boy.”

Miss An’gel nodded. “And if she dares to cancel that nice young Wardlaw boy’s scholarship, we’ll see that she is thoroughly embarrassed for her meanness.”

Vera was evidently even more indiscreet than I expected. “Thank you,” I said. “I have to admit that her threats had me pretty worked up.” I wondered briefly who the informant was.

“Now you can rest easy.” Miss An’gel had a sip of tea. “We knew already that you were a man of integrity, Charlie, and your actions in protecting the privacy of our family show that clearly.”

As always, any kind of direct praise made me uncomfortable. I mumbled my thanks.

“And you’re modest as well.” Miss Dickce winked at me, and I relaxed. Somehow that little gesture made me feel more comfortable, less like I was having an audience with the queen.

“We’ve put up with Vera’s little tantrums for years because she does pour a lot of money into worthy causes in Athena.” Miss An’gel’s expression turned steely. “But there are limits, and lately Vera has been pushing the boundaries of the acceptable in terms of some of her behavior.”

“And it has nothing to do with her background,” Miss Dickce said. “Despite what she may think.” She shook her head. “Good people are good no matter what kind of family they have. Vera is just plain mean.”

“That she is.” Miss An’gel took back the reins of the conversation. “She thinks we are always thwarting her simply because we think she’s socially unacceptable, but that just proves how self-deluded she is.” She sighed. “But that’s neither here nor there. The problem is, Vera is getting nastier, and she has got to be stopped.”

“She’s meddling in things that don’t concern her,” Miss Dickce said. “Not just our family history, though what she expected to find in the family papers, I haven’t the faintest idea,” she sniffed. “The Ducotes have been boringly respectable for generations.”

“Sadly, yes.” Miss An’gel laughed. “Dull as ditch water, as the saying goes.” Her expression hardened. “All that aside, Vera is headed for trouble, the kind of trouble she may never survive.”