She could see the point, she had only been stealing because although free, she was disowned and estranged from her family, and didn’t want to have to be a washer woman, let alone have to resort to the second oldest profession.“stop that!” I demanded. “stop that!” she mocked.She was an excellent mimic, able to parody anyone in voice, stride, and mannerisms. I approved, a fellow brat! That is partly how she was able to rob the Matrons of their necklaces. A small part. She could ingratiate herself into the company of any level of society, from highest to lowest, by assuming the postures and attitudes of the group wordlessly.I had to be careful that she did not become bored in social settings, or she was likely to upset the apple-cart for her entertainment. She had a trick of projecting her voice, or a voice anyway, targeted at fragile accords causing arguments and spats and hard feelings. We tended not to attend boring functions, as they could become exciting ones in negative. ’ She returned with a second small bag and as she handed it to me through the window I think she said. ‘Thank you very much please come again.’ But her accent had me stumped. A minute later we were pulling onto the interstate and headed north on our first antique extravaganza. ‘Hmmmmm that hits the spot.’ Kay remarked as she took the first sip of her coffee. I set the cruise control for sixty and lifted my foot off the gas settling in for at least two hours on the interstate. ‘Have you given any thought as to what kind of items we should be keeping an eye out for?’ I asked Kay took a second sip from her cup then slid it into the holder. ‘I was thinking maybe some really pretty lamps or vases or perhaps some old carnival glass that shimmers different colors under a light.’ She answered. I looked toward her and said. ‘It doesn’t sound like we really needed to rent this van if you’re only looking for small items like that.’ ‘Well ya never know what you might run into.’ Kay.
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