Idly I pulled out my phone and tapped the icon for my e-mail. I usually didn’t read messages on my phone, preferring my laptop for the task. At the moment, despite my pledge to get more exercise, I felt too indolent to haul my carcass up and down the hall to the den where my laptop lived most of the time.
Other than a few friends from my many years in Houston, I had few e-mail correspondents. I spent more time deleting unwanted messages than I did reading anything I actually wanted to see. I purged several messages before I got to one from a dear friend here in Athena, Miss An’gel Ducote.
Miss An’gel and her younger sister, Miss Dickce, were the two grande dames of Athena society. Their family were among the founders of the town, and Ducotes had been leading citizens ever since. The sisters, in their early eighties, were the last of the direct line, however. They had recently taken a young man from California named Benjy Stephens, a connection of an old friend of theirs, as their ward, however, and speculation was rife around town that he would one day inherit the Ducote millions.
Miss An’gel, after observing the niceties, got right to the point in her message.
Sister and I would be delighted if you and Helen Louise could join us for tea on Sunday afternoon. A dear friend will be visiting, and you really should meet her. You have something in common, but I won’t tell you what until after you’ve met. Don’t forget to bring Diesel! Shall we say three p.m.?
I had no plans for Sunday afternoon but knew I would have to check with Helen Louise. She wasn’t supposed to be at the bistro then, but I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t decide that something there needed her attention.
As I was about to reply to Miss An’gel, I received a notice that I had a new message. From Miss An’gel, no less.
Forgive my lapse, Charlie, but I forgot to tell you our dear friend’s name. Miss Ernestine Carpenter. She’s looking forward to meeting you.
Mystery solved, I thought. I remembered now that Miss An’gel or Miss Dickce had mentioned the woman in a recent conversation, though I couldn’t quite recall the context.
The Ducote sisters knew Miss Carpenter, and Miss Carpenter knew Jack Pemberton. Curiouser and curiouser. At least I would be able to meet Miss Carpenter and find out directly what she knew about Jack Pemberton and maybe even why he was so keen to write a book about my experiences.
I replied to Miss An’gel and told her we would be delighted to join her, her sister, and their guest for tea on Sunday afternoon. I assured her Diesel would be with us.
That accomplished, I put my phone down and had a few more sips of tea while I contemplated a call to Helen Louise. I had a feeling she might not be happy that I had accepted an invitation for the both of us without consulting her first, but I figured this was as good a time as any to confront her about really committing to her decision to cut back on work.
After a few more sips of tea, I picked up the phone and called her.
THREE
To my surprise—and relief—Helen Louise didn’t sound at all annoyed with me for accepting Miss An’gel’s invitation to tea on Sunday without consulting her. She brushed aside my apology.
“No, I don’t mind, honey, in this instance,” Helen Louise said. “It will be a pleasure to see Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce and to meet their friend. Now, what shall we have for Sunday dinner? Is everyone planning to be there?”
Okay, so no confrontation at the moment. It could wait. I felt a bit cowardly, but after all, it would probably be best to have that conversation when we were face-to-face and not over the phone.
“Far as I know,” I said. Everyone meant—besides Helen Louise, Diesel, and me—my two children, their spouses, my grandson, and my two lodgers, Stewart Delacorte and his partner, Haskell Bates.
“Alex must be about ready to pop,” Helen Louise said, referring to my son Sean’s wife, who was nearing the end of her pregnancy. “I know she’ll be happy to have that baby out.”
“Yes, poor girl, I think she’s pretty miserable,” I said. “Ever since her doctor told her she needed to stay home and off her feet these last few weeks, she hasn’t been happy not being able to go into the office.” Alex, like my son, was an attorney, and they shared a practice with Alex’s father, a near-legendary figure in Athena.
“She and Sean will be even busier when the baby arrives,” Helen Louise said. “They still haven’t given any hints as to what it will be?”
“Not a single one,” I said. “I don’t think they actually know. I think Sean only pretends to know so he can tease me.”
Helen Louise chuckled. “Yes, he would do that.”
“As long as the baby’s healthy,” I said, “I don’t care whether it’s a boy or a girl.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to know pretty soon,” Helen Louise said. “Now, about the menu. Here’s what I was thinking.”
We spent the next several minutes discussing food choices. Helen Louise insisted on preparing the meal herself—with help from her two assistants, namely Diesel and me. Once we had the menu fully planned, we said good-bye. Helen Louise had to get back to work.
After I put my phone down, I sat and listened for a moment. The house was quiet as I walked softly back to the living room to check on its occupants. Azalea, Diesel, and baby Charlie still slept. As long as everyone was resting, I thought I might as well have a brief nap before dinner. I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom. Shoes off, I stretched out on the bed. After a few minutes I drifted off to sleep.
When I awoke about an hour later I discovered that I had a large, furry companion in bed with me. Diesel lay lengthwise alongside me, his head on his pillow, his body facing me. As I shifted in the bed to turn toward him, his eyes opened. He yawned and stretched before he meowed a couple of times. I stroked his head for a moment, and he began to purr, making the deep, rumbling sound that was the reason for his name.
I checked the time on the beautiful watch Helen Louise had given me last month for my birthday and was not surprised to see that it was nearly five thirty. I rubbed Diesel’s head a few more times before I told him it was time to get up. He chirped as if to disagree.
“No, no arguing, we’d better get up.” I turned to sit up on the side of the bed. After a yawn and a stretch, I went into the bathroom to splash water on my face and comb my hair. When I returned to the bedroom Diesel sat by the door into the hall, ready to accompany me.
I could hear Azalea singing one of her favorite hymns, “In the Garden,” as we neared the kitchen. Listening to her brought back memories of my childhood, going to church with my parents, attending gospel singing events. I felt a wave of nostalgia for my parents and that bygone time. I wished my parents could have lived to see their great-grandchildren, but they had been gone more than twenty years now.
Azalea broke off singing when Diesel and I entered the kitchen. She rarely sang when I was in the room with her, unless it was to baby Charlie.
“That was lovely,” I told her.
“Thank you,” she said. “Miss Laura came and got baby Charlie a few minutes ago.” She gestured to the oven. “Your dinner’s about ready. Chicken and rice casserole. Give it about ten more minutes.” She looked down at Diesel. The cat had come to a stop near her and stared hopefully up at her. She wagged a finger at him. “You can’t have any, Mr. Cat. There’s onions in it, and they’re not good for you.”
Diesel uttered a plaintive meow.
“No use complaining to me, Mr. Cat,” Azalea said. “Next week I’ll make something with chicken and no onions. No garlic, either. Then you’ll be able to have some. Okay?”