Timepiece Read Online Free

handed it to David, who examined it carefully, then held it out at arm’slength. “Look at that,” he said beneath his breath.
    â€œIt’s a fine piece. Maybe the finest I seen. French made. Never even been engraved. Belonged to a Mr. Nathaniel Kearns.”
    â€œGold plate?”
    â€œSolid.”
    â€œHow much does Kearns want for it?”
    â€œMr. Kearns don’t want nothin’. He’s dead. The auctioneers askin’ seventy-five dollars.”
    â€œIs it worth it?”
    â€œSixty-seven dollars, I’d say.”
    â€œI will purchase it,” David decided. “For sixty-seven.” He stood up. “Would you care for something to drink?” He pulled a crystal decanter from a cabinet against the west wall.
    â€œShore I would.”
    David poured Lawrence a shot glass of rum. Lawrence took the glass, then leanedback while David walked back to his chair.
    â€œHow long this MaryAnne worked for you?”
    â€œAbout six weeks.” The corners of his mouth rose in a vague smile. “She is rather special.”
    â€œI can see that,” he said. “Called me ‘suh’.”
    David nodded, then glanced over to the door to be certain it was closed. “I have a question for you, Lawrence.”
    Lawrence looked up intently over his glass.
    â€œWhat do you think of me marrying?”
    â€œYou, David?”
    â€œWhat would you say to that?”
    â€œNow why you askin’ me? I ain’t ever been married.”
    â€œI value your opinion. You are a good judge of character.”
    Lawrence fidgeted uncomfortably.
    â€œCome now, Lawrence. Speak freely.”
    Lawrence frowned. “It’s my way ofthinkin’ that some folk shouldn’ get themselves married.”
    David grinned. “Some folk? Folk like me?”
    â€œI’m jus’ sayin’ someone shouldn’ take a perfectly good life and go marryin’ it. Seen it happen my whole life, someone has the good life. Plenty to eat. Plenty of time to jus’ do nuthin’, then a woman comes ‘long and ruins it all.”
    David began to laugh. “Lawrence, you have a clarity of thought I envy.”
    â€œThere someone you be thinkin’ ‘bout?”
    â€œYes. But I think she would be rather astonished to know of my intentions.”
    Lawrence glanced back toward the door and smiled knowingly.
    â€œYou do have a clarity of thought, my friend,” David said.
    Lawrence stood up. “Well, I best be off so you can be ‘bout your business.” His face stretched into a bright smile. “Whatever that business may be.”
    David grinned. “Thank you for bringing the timepiece by, Lawrence. I will come by this afternoon with the payment.”
    Lawrence stopped at the door. “Ain’t no woman goin’ to like all those clocks ‘round her house.”
    â€œThe right one will.”
    Lawrence opened the door and looked out at MaryAnne, who glanced up and smiled at him. He turned back toward David, who was examining his new timepiece. “You have an eye for finer things.”
    â€œSo do you, Lawrence. So do you.”

    Lawrence was a novelty in his neighborhood and the children of his street would wait patiently for his daily, slow-paced pilgrimage to the Brigham Street market, then scatter like birds at his appearance. No child could visit the area without hearing the boast from the indigenous children, “We got a Negro in our neighborhood.”
    His home was a ramshackle hut built behind a large brick cannery, and all in the neighborhood knew of its existence, despite the fact that it was well secluded and Lawrence was as inconspicuous as his skin allowed him to be.
    Lawrence’s last name was Flake, taken from the slave owners who had purchased his mother in eastern Louisiana in 1834. He had seen war twice, once in the South, and once in Cuba, and had grown old in the military, his black hair dusted