Out of Circulation Read online

  “In fact, Vera Cassity said the very same thing.” I picked up the front section of the paper and started to open it.

  Azalea whirled around and glared at me again, an egg in her right hand. “How come you let that trash in this house?”

  The venom in Azalea’s voice startled me. I had never heard her speak in such a tone. “What do you mean?”

  Azalea crushed the egg in her hand, and I watched in fascination as the contents oozed through her fingers and dripped on the floor. She appeared oblivious to the mess.

  “That woman ain’t never done a good thing for nobody, ’cepting herself. She don’t deserve to be around decent folks.”

  Azalea furiously angry would make anyone want to beat a strategic retreat. I tried not to squirm in my chair or get up and scuttle out of the room.

  What on earth had Vera Cassity done to earn this kind of hatred?

  Before I could voice the question, Azalea seemed to recover herself and gazed in dismay at the remains of the egg on the floor. She muttered to herself as she stepped over to the sink to rinse her hand. I watched in silence as she then took paper towels and wiped the floor.

  I decided I’d ask anyway, though I might get my head handed back to me on a platter. “Why do you dislike Vera Cassity so much?”

  Azalea glared at me for a moment. “Ain’t nothing you need to worry about.” She turned toward the stove, her back and shoulders stiff.

  I went back to my paper and my coffee. Though I still burned with curiosity, I knew better than to push the issue.

  The scent of bacon frying soon perfumed the air. Azalea remained silent as she tended the stove, and I gazed at the paper without comprehending much of what I read. Did anyone in Athena actually like Vera Cassity? I had seldom encountered anyone who seemed to engender universal antipathy as she did.

  Justin entered the kitchen. Diesel ambled along beside him. “Good morning, Mr. Charlie, Miss Azalea.”

  “Good morning, Justin.” I held out a hand to Diesel, who butted his head against it. “And good morning to you, boy.”

  The cat chirped at me, and I could have sworn he also grinned. I scratched his head, and he purred with pleasure.

  Justin helped himself to orange juice from the refrigerator while Azalea poured him a cup of coffee. He thanked her, and she nodded before she turned back to the stove.

  He glanced at me with a faint frown, and I shrugged. Azalea had failed to extend him her usual greeting, and I couldn’t explain why to him, not with Azalea right there. Justin shook his head as he sat down across from me.

  “Exams going well?” I folded the paper and laid it aside.

  “Fine, as far as I can tell.” Justin took a swig of orange juice. “English lit’s going to be a monster.” He shook his head. “The professor warned us to expect to spend the whole three hours on it. My brain’ll probably be completely wrung out by the time it’s over.”

  “Even so, I’m sure you’ll do fine. You have an A in the class, don’t you?” I already knew he did. He was not only bright, but also a hard worker. He didn’t accept anything other than A’s in all his courses.

  “Yes, sir.” He blushed. “But I want to keep it, so I can’t let the exam do me in.”

  “When is it?”

  “This afternoon, at one.” He scratched his bearded chin.

  “I’ll send good vibes your way.” I chuckled. “Though I doubt you really need them.”

  Justin grinned, and as I regarded him, I marveled at the changes in him over the past year. When he first moved in, the fall semester of the previous year, he had been shy, gawky, and unsure of himself. After a traumatic first semester he’d blossomed into a more outgoing, physically active, and confident young man. I was as proud of him as if he were one of my own.

  Azalea set plates of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon in front of Justin and me. She glared at me when she was done. “Don’t you be letting that woman back in this house. Miss Dottie like to rise up and haunt you. And I won’t set foot in here again.”

  With that she whirled and stomped off into the utility room.

  FOUR

  Justin and I stared at each other. Diesel meowed several times, and I knew the tense atmosphere bothered him. He butted my thigh, and I scratched his head.

  “Man, what’s up with her?” Justin kept his voice low. “I’ve never heard her use that tone before.” He shook his head. “Who’s she talking about anyway?”

  I answered the last question first. “Vera Cassity.”

  Justin’s expression turned sour. “Oh, her.” He had a sip of coffee.

  “How do you know her?” Did everyone in Athena know and dislike the woman?

  “Scholarship.” Justin shrugged. “She endowed one of the four-year scholarships I received. I’m grateful to her, because it really is a good one.”

  “But?” I prompted when he fell silent.

  “She wants a thank-you letter at the beginning and end of every semester. Plus, you have to tell her about the courses you’ve taken and how they have contributed to your growth as a mature, moral person.” He sighed. “I guess it’s really not that big a deal, but it takes up a lot of time. Because those letters sure aren’t short.”

  “Does she actually read them?” I thought two detailed thank-you letters per semester excessive. The woman evidently needed massive sops to her ego.

  “She sure does.” Justin laughed. “Because you always get a letter back, and she comments on things. So you don’t dare skimp on the details when you write to her.”

  “That’s going way overboard on her part.” I grimaced. “I admire her for endowing scholarships, but requiring written proof of gratitude so frequently is just weird. Not to mention the bit about growth as a mature, moral person.”

  “Well, yeah, it is weird.” Justin shrugged again. “But without that money I’d have to go to school part-time and work full-time probably.”

  The more I found out about Vera the more fascinating—albeit distasteful—she became.

  “But why does Miss Azalea hate her so much?” Justin forked some egg into his mouth.

  I shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest.” Had Azalea worked for Vera at some point? I couldn’t see Azalea tolerating Vera’s high-handed manner, but her reaction to Vera argued a more serious offense.

  “She must have done something pretty awful.” Justin ate more. “I mean, Miss Azalea’s not exactly a warm and fuzzy person”—his eyes glinted with amusement—“but she doesn’t usually go around bad-mouthing anybody.”

  I agreed. Azalea’s reaction implied deep animosity.

  “Definitely a mystery.” I had a bite of bacon, and suddenly a paw tapped my thigh. I glanced down at Diesel. His gaze riveted on the bacon in my hand, he chirped. “You’re incorrigible.” I broke off a piece and fed it to him.

  Justin laughed. “He does love bacon.”

  “That he does.” I fed the cat another piece. “That’s all.” I held up my hand to show Diesel that it was empty.

  He glared at me for a moment before he turned and walked over to Justin’s chair. His tail bristled with indignation.

  “A couple of bites,” I told Justin. “No more.”

  “Yes, sir.” He grinned as Diesel warbled for him. He broke off almost half a slice and fed it to the cat.

  “Justin.” I shook my head. “That was more than a couple of bites.”

  My boarder ducked his head briefly, but when he returned my gaze, he grinned. I suppressed a chuckle. I couldn’t be angry with him.

  Justin popped the remainder of the bacon into his mouth and held his empty hands where Diesel could see them. Diesel knew what that signal meant, even if it annoyed him.

  Tail once again in the air, Diesel marched out of the kitchen into the utility room. Justin and I shared a quiet laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Stewart Delacorte, my other boarder, entered the room like a diva coming onstage. Once he had our attention, he preened, striking in his black suit, white shirt, and crimson tie
. “Well, what do you think? Am I not simply gorgeous this morning?”

  “Why should today be different from any other day?” Justin flashed a grin at me. When Stewart first moved in, his assumed flamboyance had disconcerted the younger man. Now, however, Justin took Stewart in his stride, and the two had become friends.

  Stewart blew a kiss. “You are too, too sweet.” He advanced to the table and rested his hands on the back of a chair. “I have a meeting with the president today, therefore the professional drag.” He grimaced. “I must have caffeine in my system if I’m going to listen to Mr. Prez blather on and on for an hour or two.” He wandered over to the counter and poured himself coffee. “Now, what were you two laughing about?”

  “Diesel.” Justin and I replied in unison.

  “How dare you laugh at that magnificent feline,” Stewart chided us in a mock-fierce tone. “Where is he, by the way?” He glanced around the room as he sipped his coffee.

  Diesel chose that moment to stroll back into the kitchen. He spotted Stewart and made a beeline for him.

  Stewart tried to hold the cat off, because he well knew Diesel intended to rub himself against his legs. “Darling kitty, I adore you, but I don’t want to have to de-hair myself.” He glanced over at me. “Why is it that they simply must get their hair on anything black?”

  Diesel sat on his haunches and gazed up at Stewart. He warbled twice.

  “I think he may be telling you his hair is special.” Justin laughed.

  “It is.” Stewart flashed a grin. “But not on my best suit, and not when I have a command performance.” He kept a wary eye on the cat as he approached the table and took the chair to my right.

  Justin glanced at his watch. He pushed back his chair. “Sorry, gotta get going. See y’all later.” He waved to Diesel as he trotted out of the room. Moments later I heard him run lightly up the stairs.

  “Where’s Dante?” I turned to Stewart. Usually the dog made every step that Stewart made.

  Dante was the toy poodle Stewart took over from my son, Sean, a few months before. Sean had rescued the poor little guy from an owner—Sean’s former girlfriend—who’d lost interest in him when she discovered he had no pedigree. Once Stewart and Dante set eyes on each other, though, it was love at first sight.

  “Laura has him with her this morning. She promised to keep him occupied so I could sneak out of the house. He’s had his morning walkies.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got a few minutes before I need to head for campus.” He had a sip of coffee as he regarded me with a thoughtful expression. “Recovered from last night’s episode of Everybody Hates Vera?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. Stewart was outrageous, but fun. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with a talent for getting on people’s nerves the way poor Vera does.”

  “She’s had sixty-odd years to perfect her talent. Plus, she’s worked really hard at it.” Stewart grimaced. “Be thankful she’s not your godmother.”

  I probably gaped at him after that little verbal bomb. “Are you serious? Vera is your godmother?”

  Stewart shrugged. “Sadly, yes. She and my late mother were best friends in high school. They both grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.” His left eyebrow arched. “They both ended up marrying money. Of course, my father inherited his, while Morty had to earn it by the sweat of his fevered brow.”

  “Marrying into it is so much simpler, naturally.” I grinned, and Diesel warbled right on cue.

  Stewart laughed. “Naturally. I have to say this for my mother, she stuck by Vera in the years before Morty had a pot to pee in—pardon the elegant expression, but it fits the subject so well.” His left eyebrow quirked upward again. “When I came along, charming bundle of joy that I was, my mother insisted on naming her best friend as my godmother.”

  “Then you know Vera well?” This connection between Stewart and Vera really surprised me.

  “Well enough, I suppose.” Stewart didn’t sound thrilled about it. “Vera was never that fond of me, nor I of her, but when she finally figured out I was gay, she had as little to do with me as possible.” He shot me a sardonic glance. “And of course I was completely devastated.”

  “I’m sure it marked you for life.” I kept my tone serious.

  Stewart snorted. “Just another example of the way Vera endears herself to people.” He paused for coffee, then set his cup on the table. “I do feel sorry for her sometimes. She tries to get people to like her; she just doesn’t understand the basic principle—that you have to be nice to people yourself. Plus, she has a chip the size of Mount Rushmore on her shoulder about growing up dirt-poor. She’s so sure people resent her because of Morty’s money, she comes across like a lion getting ready to feast on an arena full of terrified Christians.”

  “Surely she’s not that bad.” I had no reason to be fond of Vera, based on our previous interactions, but I wouldn’t compare her to a voracious wild beast.

  “Well, probably not.” Stewart chuckled. “She seriously needs to take a chill pill, especially around Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce. The way they were bickering last night really got to you, didn’t it?” Stewart often pretended to be a complete flibbertigibbet, but he was far shrewder and more observant than he liked to let on.

  “I don’t like conflict, especially conflict that open.” The cat meowed, and I smiled. “Neither does Diesel.”

  “Par for the course with Vera and the Ducote sisters.” Stewart rolled his eyes. “I guess everybody else is just used to it. If Vera didn’t push the sisters so hard, they wouldn’t resent her so. They’re really not the self-absorbed aristocrats they sometimes appear to be.”

  I could concur with that. In my limited experience with them I had seen their true kindness and concern for the welfare of others.

  Stewart echoed my thoughts as he continued, “They work very hard, and if they were thirty years younger they’d probably be running their own companies. A lot of people have reason to be grateful to them for the good works they do.” He paused for a moment. “Instead of just pitching in and getting the work done, Vera wants to be in charge. I think she wants the glory, like she has to prove herself to someone, but she doesn’t want to soil her hands with actual work.”

  “Perhaps she needs to prove something to herself,” I suggested.

  Stewart nodded. “You’re probably right. Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce care about helping people, and that’s the point of it all. They regard it as their duty. It’s how they were brought up to think.”

  “Vera loathes them.” I paused. “At least, that’s my impression.”

  “Maybe she does,” Stewart said. “She sure as heck resents them because they thwart her all the time.”

  “Like with the gala. They sent out the invitations yesterday, before the meeting.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me.” Stewart laughed. “No flies on those two old girls.” He glanced at his watch. “Time I was heading off to campus. Can’t keep the president waiting.” He pushed back his chair, stood, and then took his coffee cup to the sink behind me.

  I turned in my chair to face him. “One quick thing, before you go.” I was about to be incredibly nosy, but curiosity had the better of me.

  Stewart nodded. “Sure, what is it?”

  “I mentioned earlier to Azalea that Vera was here last night, and I thought she was going to have a conniption fit over the woman. Do you have any idea why she would hate Vera so much?” Azalea had once worked for Stewart’s family, although it was many years ago now, and I thought he might know something.

  Instead of answering, however, Stewart blinked at me several times in rapid succession and tilted his head a tiny bit.

  Taking his cue, I turned back to the table to see Azalea standing a few feet away.

  “You best be mindin’ your own business, Mr. Charlie.” Her fierce expression hit me like a laser, and it took all I had not to crawl under the table to escape from those eyes. Diesel did disappear under there. “What’s between me and that woman ain’t nobod
y’s business in this house. Ain’t never gonna be.” She stomped past me and moments later I heard the thud of her feet on the stairs.

  FIVE

  I felt about three inches tall, and to judge by Stewart’s expression, he was experiencing a similar amount of chagrin.

  Stewart pushed away from the counter. “Guess I’d better head to my meeting, discretion being the better part of valor and all that.” He headed for the front door after treating me to a pale imitation of his usual cocky grin.

  “Guess you and I had better hop it up the stairs, boy, and dress for work.” I got up from the table, and Diesel trotted toward the hall. With a rueful glance at my unfinished breakfast I followed the cat upstairs. With any luck I could get out the front door without encountering Azalea again. I was frankly surprised she hadn’t given me notice, but I supposed it would take more than my nosiness to make her relinquish her job.

  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.