Out of Circulation by Miranda James Read Free Book Online Page A

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’ catI 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