Out Оf Circulation

TWO

Fifteen minutes after Diesel and I bade good-bye to the last board member, we got in the car and headed for the town square and my dear friend Helen Louise Brady’s French patisserie. After the rancor and tension of the board meeting, Diesel and I both needed to relax. Plus, I hadn’t seen Helen Louise in three days, and I missed her even though we talked on the phone daily.

Diesel chirped at me when I told him our destination. He loved Helen Louise, and the adoration was mutual. She always made a fuss over my cat, and if anyone in her establishment dared object to his presence, she informed the offender not to let the door hit him on his way out.

I pulled the car into a slot right in front of the bakery. Diesel hopped out over me as soon as I opened the door, eager to see his friend and whatever tidbits she would offer.

Even before we stepped inside, I felt my mouth watering from the appetizing smells that emanated from the bakery. Brioches, croissants, gâteaux, éclairs—the combination of these and more made my early dinner a rapidly fading memory. Perhaps I’d have a small piece of Helen Louise’s sumptuous gâteau au chocolat, a particular weakness of mine.

Helen Louise greeted me from behind the counter, and the thought of chocolate cake receded. There stood the real attraction. Rake thin and nearly six feet tall, Helen Louise wore her dark, luxuriant hair in a short bob. The curls framed blue eyes that sparkled with fierce intelligence and wicked humor, a mouth that often quirked in amusement, and a shapely nose that wrinkled adorably when she laughed.

She came around the counter as Diesel and I approached, and we shared a hug and a brief kiss.

“Missed you.” Helen Louise’s words shimmered softly in the air between us, and I pulled her close again for a longer kiss.

Diesel warbled and inserted himself between us, and we broke apart, laughing.

Helen Louise grinned at me as she bent to stroke my incorrigible feline’s head and neck. “We could never forget you, mon brave. Tu es un chat très formidable.”

After ten years in Paris learning her art, she often lapsed into French. Diesel warbled at her as if he understood her.

“He’s not formidable, just shameless.” I, too, stroked Diesel’s head, and my hand brushed against Helen Louise’s. We smiled at each other.

Diesel butted his head against my thigh, then did the same to Helen Louise. “Someone expects a treat, I think.” I shook my head.

Helen Louise laughed. “Go have a seat, and I’ll bring you both something très délicieux.”

Only a few customers at eight thirty in the evening, I noted as Diesel and I moved to our usual table near the cash register at the end of the counter. Diesel waited until I sat and then positioned himself against my left leg, his head turned toward the spot from where Helen Louise would shortly emerge.

I watched Diesel’s face, and his nose twitched as Helen Louise approached the table with two dessert plates. Chocolate cake for me and some bits of chicken for my poor starving feline.

“You do spoil us.” I grinned at her as she set the cake in front of me.

Diesel reared up and put his front paws on her arm as she took the chair opposite mine. “You’re both worth spoiling.” Those blue eyes sparkled, and I thought for the umpteenth time how beautiful they were.

“Here you go, Diesel.” Helen Louise tore the chicken into smaller pieces and held her hand out to the cat. Diesel wasted no time in scarfing the food out of her hand, and she laughed. “Charlie needs to feed you more, sweet boy. You’re obviously wasting away into nothing.”

My mouth full of sinfully delicious cake, I groaned as Helen Louise doled out the rest of the chicken. We exchanged glances as she wiped her fingers on a napkin. Diesel popped up on his hind legs again, head over the table, searching for more chicken.

“That’s all, Diesel.” I spoke in a firm tone, and my cat stared at me. For a moment I had the strangest feeling that he was going to stick out his tongue at me, but instead he blinked a couple of times and sat back on his haunches.

“How did the board meeting go?” Helen Louise leaned back and regarded me with an amused expression. “All-out catfight?”

I set my fork down. “Don’t you know it. I’ve never seen Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce strip someone to the bone, but they sure did it with Vera.”

“Vera brings it on herself.” Helen Louise sighed. “I do feel sorry for her sometimes, but honestly, if she’d just relax and not get so caught up in trying to be the doyenne of Athena society, people might cut her some slack.”

“Not to mention that she tends to order people around like her personal peons.” I recalled her behavior every time she’d visited the public library when I did volunteer duty. She sent staff scurrying like Cleopatra giving orders to her slaves.

“There’s not an ounce of grace in her.” Helen Louise shook her head. “She came up from nothing, and she thinks she can bulldoze people into forgetting it. Sad thing is, most people couldn’t care less.”

“She should be proud of what she and Morty have accomplished.” I licked the fork, hoping for one last taste of that amazing chocolate. “But you know what people here are like. She’s never going to be one of the Ducotes of River Hill, no matter how hard she tries.” The populist in me thought it ridiculous, but attitudes about class and position changed slowly in Athena.

Helen Louise snorted. “Let me guess what happened. She wanted to host the gala at Ranelagh, but Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce declined to agree.”

I laughed. “You sure you didn’t hide in the corner of my living room tonight?”

“Honey, they’ve been fighting that same battle for the past decade or more. And the outcome never varies. I bet you anything Miss An’gel already sent out the invitations.”

“She handed me mine before she and her sister left tonight.”

“The Ducote sisters could teach the military how to maneuver,” Helen Louise observed.

Diesel warbled as if he agreed, and Helen Louise and I both laughed. “I don’t want to be anywhere around when Vera finds out.” I could just imagine the explosion.

“Vera ought to be expecting it.” Helen Louise shook her head. “But she always thinks she’s going to outsmart them, and of course, she never does.” She paused. “Sissy Beauchamp show up?”

“She did.” I grimaced. “She and Vera went at each other like two cats. I swear, if every board meeting is going to be like that, I may have to rethink being a member.”

Helen Louise regarded me with a concerned expression. “Now, Charlie, honey, I know it makes you nervous when people carry on like that around you, but you can’t let it upset you. They need you on that board, and I know Teresa appreciates your support.”

I nodded, feeling slightly ashamed. “You’re right. I should stop whining. As long as they don’t try to pull me into too many of their arguments, I guess I can manage.”

Helen Louise leaned forward to squeeze my hand. Diesel rubbed hard against my legs and meowed a couple of times. Helen Louise and I shared another laugh as I reached for the cat’s head and scratched it. Diesel’s rumbling purr sounded loud even against the light background noise from the customers.

As I glanced over Helen Louise’s shoulder, my attention caught by the opening door, I blinked to focus. Sissy Beauchamp strode in, her younger brother, Henry Ainsworth Beauchamp IV—better known as Hank—right behind her. He spoke to her in an undertone, his words unintelligible, but the tension between them fairly vibrated.

Sissy’s mulish expression changed quickly when she spotted me. She smiled and waved, then elbowed Hank in the stomach. He stopped talking and followed the direction of Sissy’s nod. He scowled at Helen Louise and me briefly before he managed to smooth his features into the bland mien he usually presented to the world.

Helen Louise cast a quick glance at me, one eyebrow raised, as she left our table and took her place behind the counter. “Evening, Sissy, Hank, how are y’all doing? What can I get for you?”

“We’re doing just fine, Helen Louise.” Sissy gave no sign now of anything amiss between her and Hank as she slipped into gracious belle mode. Hank nodded, but I couldn’t see that he relaxed at all.

“I’d like a couple of those wonderful éclairs and a café au lait.” Sissy turned to Hank. “What about you, darlin’?”

“Same for me, I reckon.” Hank’s deep voice always surprised me because it seemed bigger than he was. Only about five-nine, he had a slight figure and looked like a good breeze could send him reeling.

“Coming right up.” Helen Louise entered their order in the computerized register and gave them the total.

Hank paid with a credit card, but when Helen Louise spoke after checking the register, her voice held a hint of compassion.

She pitched her voice low, and I barely heard her. “Sorry, honey, but it didn’t go through.”

Hank stared at her for a moment, then uttered an obscenity. He turned and stomped out. Sissy called after him, but he never looked back.