Out Of Circulation

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“Charlie Harris, what are you doing hiding in the kitchen? Stiffen up that spine, young man, and get yourself in there where you’re needed.”

Miss An’gel Ducote didn’t wait for a response. The grande dame of Athena society turned and strode back toward my living room. She had been telling the citizens of Athena what to do for more than seventy of her eighty-odd years. Far be it from me to cast aside my Southern upbringing and defy her—even if the last place I wanted to be this Wednesday night was my own living room. Confrontation unsettled me, and I had taken refuge in the kitchen, ostensibly to brew fresh tea. I wasn’t going to avoid the unpleasantness that easily, however.

The tea forgotten, I scurried after Miss An’gel as fast as my fifty-two-year-old legs could move. My feet tangled together just inside the living room, and I grabbed at the door frame to steady myself.

Miss An’gel had resumed her place on the sofa with her younger sister, Miss Dickce. Her fire-engine red, vintage Chanel woolen dress provided a startling contrast to her sister’s sober black. I didn’t ordinarily pay much attention to women’s clothing, but my actor daughter, Laura, waxed ecstatic whenever we encountered one of the Ducote sisters. Evidently they’d inherited a considerable wardrobe of designer clothing from their mother and grandmother. Laura practically swooned over the creations of Worth, Chanel, Balenciaga, and Dior she’d seen them wear, and I’d picked up enough detail to identify the designers’ work. I drew the line at shoes.

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