While I got ready for work, I thought more about Azalea’s reaction to my nosiness. Vera must have done something
terrible to merit such loathing. I would have to be careful about mentioning Vera’s name in front of my housekeeper. I didn’t want to exacerbate the situation. I’d embarrassed myself enough already. Maybe if I tiptoed lightly around her, Azalea would eventually forgive me. Otherwise her baleful presence might be too much to live with.
I continued to mull over the issue while Diesel and I walked to work, but I was simply treading the same ground over and over. While I divested myself of my coat and scarf, Diesel leaped into the window behind my desk and settled down to gaze outside and eventually to nap. He meowed twice as I sat and switched on the computer. I obliged with a few rubs on his head and ears, and he rewarded me with a loud purr.
After dealing with various e-mails, several of which required detailed responses, I focused my attention on cataloging. The Delacorte Collection was my current project, and I got a tiny thrill every time I touched one of the often-rare volumes, like the first editions of titles as diverse as
Pride and Prejudice
and
Whose Body?
I regretted the manner in which the college had obtained the books—a legacy from the late James Delacorte who had been murdered—but the opportunity to work closely with such gems was such stuff as catalogers’ dreams are made on.
I smiled. Laura would appreciate my slight misquotation of Shakespeare, no doubt.
Diesel dozed in the window behind me, and other than the occasional yawn or lazy warble, I heard only the music I played while I worked. Today I listened to Telemann horn concertos. The precision of Baroque music, I generally found, provided a certain orderliness to my thought processes.
My concentration was so deep, in fact, that I worked for
almost two hours without a break. Only a series of sharp raps on the office door pulled me out of a state of deep concentration.
I stood and stretched my back and arms as I glanced at the door. I figured the person who knocked was my friend Melba Gilley, who worked downstairs in the library director’s office. She visited Diesel and me at least once a day.
The person who strode into the office was Vera Cassity. To my knowledge this was her first visit to the college archives, and I wondered why on earth she was here now.
“Good morning, Mr. Harris.” She stopped two feet in front of my desk and frowned. Her shoulders twitched a couple of times.
It took me a moment to realize that she expected me to take her coat—a mink I regarded with considerable distaste—and to offer her a chair. I hurried to accommodate her as I returned her greeting.
The mink safely placed on another chair and Vera seated properly, I returned to my position behind my desk.
“Tell me, Mr. Harris, do you enjoy your job here at the college?” Vera cocked her head to the right and regarded me with what she probably intended as a friendly smile.
“Yes, I do, very much.” Behind me I heard Diesel mutter for a moment before he subsided. Vera’s presence bothered him, and I had to admit I felt faintly uneasy.
“That’s good.” Vera’s head returned to an upright position, and her gaze bored into mine.
The silence lengthened as I waited for the woman to explain the purpose of her visit. I was determined not to speak again until she continued.
At last she spoke. “I’m sure you know my husband and I give a lot of money to the college.”
I nodded. “I’ve heard about the scholarships for deserving
students. Very generous of you.” When would the blasted woman get to the point?
Vera nodded, her expression smug. “I heard that one of the lucky boys actually lives with you. Justin Wardlaw.”
“Yes, he boards with me. He’s a fine young man and truly worthy of your scholarship.”
Vera’s eyes narrowed. “Your aunt used to have boarders, didn’t she?”
“Yes, for many years. I decided to continue her tradition.” Surely she wasn’t here to inquire about Justin, was she?
“Your aunt was a lovely lady. A pillar of the community, you might say.” Vera again offered a smile.
“Thank you. Aunt Dottie was a wonderful person.” Vera was trying to butter me up for something. That must be it. But what? I itched to demand that she get to the point and stop dillydallying.
“The archives have lots of treasures, I’m sure.”
Vera’s abrupt change of subject threw me. Now what?
“Indeed. Some excellent collections of rare books, like the Delacorte Collection, for example.” I was curious to see her reaction to the Delacorte name.
Vera shifted in her chair and shrugged. “I’ve known the Delacortes all my life.” Her tone suggested disdain for the family.
I decided to ignore that. “The archives also house manuscripts by Athena graduates and the papers of many distinguished alumni and benefactors.”
“I figured as much.” Vera nodded. “Some of Athena’s finest families, probably.”
Again that gaze bored into me. Had we finally reached the point of her visit? I was willing to bet it had something to do with the Ducote sisters. Vera probably still smarted over her latest defeat at their hands. I figured she was the
type to nurse a grudge until it was ready for Social Security.
“Certainly families important to the history of the college and of the town, too.”
“Like the Ducotes.” Vera fairly spat out the name.
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. If she went to the trouble, Vera could find out that much by examining the library’s website and the main page for the archives. The Ducote family papers were among those listed there.
“I’m interested in the history of Athena.” Vera regarded me coolly. “I’ve been thinking about writing some pamphlets for the Athena Historical Society. I’m president of the Society, did you know?”
“Yes, I believe I heard that.” From what I’d gleaned from Helen Louise, the Athena Historical Society did very little besides having the occasional luncheon for its members where they knocked back piña coladas and shredded the reputations of any members not present. The Ducote sisters had never joined.
“I thought it would be interesting to do a pamphlet on the first families of Athena.”
“That could entail a lot of research.” Somehow I didn’t see Vera as having the commitment for a project like that. Besides, I knew her real goal. She wanted to dig around in the Ducote family papers to try and unearth a scandal.
“I’m sure it would,” Vera said. “But I think I’d enjoy it. I thought I’d start with probably the oldest family in Athena, the Ducotes.”
I almost laughed. She tried to suppress her eagerness, but the gleam of malice in her eyes betrayed her.
“They are certainly one of the oldest and most distinguished families.” I decided to draw it out a bit before delivering the blow.
“An’gel and Dickce are so proud of their ancestors.” Vera couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from her tone. “I’m sure they have their reasons.”
“I believe Beauregard Ducote was one of the founders of the town.”
Vera ignored that as she continued, “To do the job properly I need to look at their papers, of course.”
The moment had arrived. I kept my expression neutral as I responded. “Yes, that would be ideal for your project, but I’m afraid it won’t be possible.”
“What do you mean?” Vera frowned. “Surely I can look at whatever I want to in the archives.”
“In this case, you can’t. The Ducote family papers are not open to the public.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Vera’s face reddened considerably. “Anyway, I’m not
the public
. I fork out a lot of cash to this school. You can just get busy and let me see those papers.”
“No, I can’t. Not without the written permission of a member of the family or their legal representatives.” Diesel had a better chance of having tea with Queen Elizabeth than Vera had of getting permission to view the Ducote Collection.
Vera jumped up from her chair and loomed over my desk. Her nostrils flared, like those of a bull ready to charge. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
I stared calmly back at her, though I had to struggle not to flinch. Her head was mere inches from mine. “I’m the person in charge of the archives, and it’s my responsibility to uphold the ethics of the position.”
“I can have you fired.” Any moment now I expected her to start foaming at the mouth, she was so angry.
I made no effort to disguise my extreme dislike as I
replied, “Go right ahead. My boss’s office is right downstairs. I’m sure he’d be happy to speak with you.”
Diesel growled as he leaped over my shoulder to land on my desk. Papers went flying, and I had to grab a couple of rare volumes to keep them from hitting the floor. Vera jolted back and stumbled into her chair. She sat abruptly as my cat hissed at her.
“Call off that thing.” Vera trembled and scooted her chair back at least a foot. “I’ll sue the hell out of you if it so much as touches me.”
I bit back a retort. Diesel wouldn’t want his mouth on any part of her. I placed my hand on the cat’s head and stroked. He calmed after a moment.
“I don’t believe there’s anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Cassity.” I got up from behind the desk and retrieved her fur.
She snatched it away and grabbed her purse. She stomped off but paused in the doorway and turned back. “I think it’s time I reconsidered some of the scholarships I give out.
And
maybe have a talk with the animal control people about that monster.” She gestured rudely at Diesel before she disappeared.
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.