By Design by J. A. Armstrong Page B

your future,”
Jameson said.
    “Really?”
    Jameson closed her eyes and pretended to
concentrate. “I see it now; chicken wings, spare ribs, lo mein, and wine.” She
opened her eyes. “How’d I do?”
    “Get in here, you lunatic.” Candace pulled Jameson
through the door. “Shell!” Michelle sauntered into the hallway from the living
room. “Jameson, this is my daughter, Michelle. Shell, this is Jameson Reid,
snarky architect and part-time Chinese delivery driver.”
    Michelle smiled. “Nice to meet you, Jameson.”
    “J.D.,” Jameson said. “For some reason, your
mother and Pearl insist on calling me Jameson. Everybody else calls me J.D.”
    “It’s your name; isn’t it?” Candace asked.
    “That it is, Senator Fletcher.”
    Candace rolled her eyes, and Michelle reached for the bag in Jameson’s hands. “I’ll call you anything
you’d like,” Michelle said, “as long as you feed me.” She took the bag and
headed off for the kitchen.
    “That’s the apple nearest the tree, huh?” Jameson
asked. Candace nodded. “This should be an
interesting lunch.”
    “You hoping to torture in tandem?” Candace asked.
Jameson shrugged. “That’s what I thought.”
    ***
      “I never
knew you had a pet bird,” Michelle looked at her mother. “That’s the real
reason why you never let us have a cat; isn’t it?”
    Candace mock glared at Jameson, who in turn
snickered. “Don’t you have things to pack?” Candace asked her daughter.
    Michelle winked at Jameson. “I suppose I do. I am
surprised though.”
    “About what?” Candace asked.
    “Mom, you’ve run against some of the meanest
S.O.B.’s in the country and you’re afraid of a cat?”
    “I am not afraid of a cat,” Candace said
indignantly. “I just prefer not to have to deal with them.”
    “What did he look like?” Michelle asked.
    “Who?” Candace replied.
    “Jinx. What did he look like?”
    “Black. He was a black cat. No one should name a
black cat Jinx,” she groaned. “This is what happens.” Jameson hid her face in
her hands to quell her laughter. Senator Candace Fletcher had, in an instant,
taken on the persona of a wounded eight-year-old girl.
    “You know, you always told us we needed face our
fears to overcome them,” Michelle reminded her mother.
    “I am not afraid of cats!” Candace defended
herself. “Are you trying to tell me that you think I should allow Jameson to wallpaper
this house with cats?”
    Michelle shrugged. “No, I think you should get
one. Pearl loves them. It would keep her company when you are away. And, Mom…a
cat is not going to eat wallpaper. Let J.D. put up the birds. It’s pretty.”
    Candace looked over at Jameson, who kept her face
hidden in her hands. “Did you see this in my future?” Candace directed her
question to Jameson.
    “Well, your cookie did say Soon you will meet a friend from your past , ” Jameson pointed out.
    Candace smacked Jameson lightly. “I smell a
conspiracy.”
    Michelle laughed. “I’m out of here before she
bombards me with pillows again,” she said. “It was nice meeting you J.D.”
    “You too, Shell,” Jameson said. Candace sat
shaking her head as she watched Michelle leave the room. “That apple is definitely from the same tree,” Jameson said definitively.
    Candace shook her head again. “Lunatics,” she
grumbled.
    “Why don’t you?” Jameson asked.
    “Why don’t I what?”
    “Get a cat?” Jameson replied.
    “Have you completely lost your mind?” Candace
wondered.
    “No.”
    “You’re serious.”
    “Well? She doesn’t think you will,” Jameson
gestured up the stairs. She was confident that Candace would take the bait. She enjoyed all of her conversations with
Candace, but Jameson took particular pleasure in their banter.
    Candace considered the statement for a moment.
Jameson was issuing her a challenge, much like Michelle just had. Candace never
backed down from a challenge. The youngest of three children, and the only
girl;