Simmer All Night (5 page)

"It's not a plot," Elizabeth protested. "Come now, Christina. Be fair."

Cole spied the hesitation in her eyes, however, and he wondered if he'd missed a nuance of this plan. One glance at Jake's apologetic facade made his stomach drop. Whatever he'd missed, he had the feeling he wouldn't like it.

With that, Cole ran out of patience. "Do you need my assistance in some way, Elizabeth?"

She nodded. "It's quite tidy, actually. Your upcoming trip to England gave me the idea. In his latest letter, Father added two names to the list of those most likely to have the Declaration. Two of the three men own estates near my father's country seat. I've concluded it will be well worth your time to expand your visit beyond London."

His search? She still wanted him to go?

"Wait a minute. Why do I still need to make the trip? If Christina is going to England, let her search for the document."

Elizabeth frowned. "Oh, no. That wouldn't do at all."

"Why? She'd be good at it. She's almost a professional sneak as it is."

Elizabeth shook her head as Christina scowled at him. "My daughter needs structure and guidance, not more practice at subterfuge. No, I'm asking you to personally escort Christina to Hartsworth. Not alone, of course. That wouldn't be at all proper. Mrs. Cody has agreed to accompany her as chaperone. She's such an Anglophile, you know, and she literally jumped at the offer," Then, pinning Cole with that smile he'd never been able to refuse, she added, "Knowing that my daughter is in your care will ease my mind tremendously."

Cole resisted the need to reach up and loosen his necktie. He'd rather escort a nest full of rattlers to England than this Chili Queen. He glanced at Christina and saw that she liked the idea about as much as he did. Shifting his gaze toward Jake, he allowed himself to fire off a glare. A good friend would have warned him, at least.

"Will you do it, Cole?" Elizabeth continued.

If anyone other than Elizabeth had asked
, he thought with a silent sigh. Hesitating only for a moment, he cleared his throat and gave in gracefully. "Yes, I'll do it."

Relief transformed Elizabeth Delaney's drawn features and she beamed. A thankful grin spread across Jake's face. And Christina, well, Christina looked... broken. Cole felt the urge to give her a hug. A brotherly hug, he assured himself. That's all.

Anything else would be just plain stupid.

* * *

Above the rooftops to the west, the setting sun painted deep crimson streaks across a cornflower-blue sky as evening descended on San Antonio. Chrissy had returned to Military Plaza and her chili stand for the supper rush. She knew her mother and brother wouldn't like it, but under the circumstances she honestly didn't care.

After the soiree in the library, she had indulged in a rare bout of self-pity and retreated to her bedroom where she'd cried her eyes dry before falling into an exhausted sleep that lasted most of the afternoon. Upon awakening, she'd felt calm enough and strong enough to think matters through. That's when she'd decided this trip to England might be for the best, after all.

She'd taken an emotional battering this day. No one on earth had the power to hurt her as much as her mother. Her brother came in a close second, though, and when the two of them teamed together and pulled Cole Morgan into the mix, well, they almost always left her feeling bloodied. It had happened too often in the past, and today's business... well... Chrissy decided she was done with the bleeding. She'd thought about building walls around her heart for some time now. As of this moment, she would start laying brick.

They're sending me away. Again. Throwing me away.

Why can't they love me?

As a shudder rolled through her, Chrissy shut her eyes and willed the self-pity away. She would build those walls tall and strong. Unlike the years spent away at school, this time she wouldn't grieve for home. This time she'd embrace the new direction her life was taking.

Maybe then all this heartache would go away.

"You should have married Jerry Wharton," Michael Kleberg suggested as he took a sniff of the heady aroma of his mother's baking rolls.

"What?" Chrissy asked, tugged from her reverie by the sound of her young friend's voice. With her chili mixed and simmering over the fire, she had walked the short block to the Kleberg's small house to pick up the cornbread Lana made for her each day.

"You should have married Jerry Wharton. Then your mother couldn't force you to go to England."

"She's not forcing me now." Chrissy stacked muffins into a napkin-draped basket. "I could stay here if I wanted. I am an adult, after all."

From behind her came a woman's voice riddled with amusement. "You have finally figured that out,
hmm?"

Chrissy wrinkled her nose at Lana Kleberg, Michael's mother and her very best friend. Newly widowed, Lana had moved to San Antonio six months ago. She put her talents as a baker to work and was in the process of building a nice little business. Soon she hoped to open a storefront bakery, but for now she sold her wares out of her own tiny kitchen and on the plaza.

"Mama," cried Sophie, lighting up with a smile. "Is your headache gone? Do you feel better?"

"I do."

"I'm so glad," Sophie gave her mother a fierce hug. "I had an idea about your headaches, Mama. Do you think they might be caused by heat? It seems like you're sick more often when it's hot outside."

"No, dummy," said Michael. "It's not the heat. It's what she hears that does it. Mama has headaches when you start talking too much."

"Not so!"

"Is too!"

Chrissy wondered if both children might have a point. She, too, had noticed that Lana's spells occurred more frequently on hot days. But she wasn't ready to place all the blame on the weather. Chrissy suspected some of the debilitating headaches were triggered by Lana's children's shenanigans, those of her son in particular. Michael seldom went a day without landing in a scrape of some sort. His antics caused Lana no little grief and made her doubt her abilities as a mother.

Chrissy thought that was just stupid. Lana was a wonderful mother, loving and caring and sensitive to her children's needs. But apparently, Lana's late husband's mother so often accused Lana of being a terrible mother that at times, Lana believed the lie. The headaches tended to plague her when she was depressed or particularly tense, which is why Chrissy tried to shield her from some of the troubles the children got themselves into.

For instance, Lana still didn't know that Michael had spent two hours locked up in jail earlier this week for picking pockets in the Plaza de Las Armas. Chrissy had paid the boy's bond and made good on his thefts while making a pact with Michael not to tell Lana about the trouble if he didn't repeat the offense.

She had two reasons for holding back the news. First was her concern over Lana's health, but secondly, she did it for the children. Aside from their mother, Chrissy was the only person the Kleberg children knew who they could count on in times of trouble. She didn't want to forfeit their trust. While she didn't approve of Michael's lawlessness, she understood the reason behind it. Family pride made the Klebergs want to support themselves without the benefit of charity, and for the most part they managed.

Lana's pastries sold better than chili down in the plaza, but every now and then unanticipated expenses popped up. In his nine-year-old wisdom, Michael had decided to solve the problem by playing Robin Hood.

I
only stole from the rich, Miss Chrissy,
he had said to her when she sprung him from the cell.
And I gave it to the poor. Us.

Chrissy felt partially responsible for the boy's actions. After all, she'd been the one to give him the book about the Merry Men of Sherwood Forest.

At that point Sophie interrupted Chrissy's reverie by approaching with a second tray of muffins. The palate-teasing aroma of hot cornbread wafted through the room as the little girl stated, "Michael, I've been thinking."

"How amazing," muttered the boy.

Ignoring that, Sophie continued. "You're wrong. Miss Chrissy couldn't marry Mr. Wharton because she told us she didn't love him, remember?" Sophie moved the muffins from the tray to a basket. "Papa said a person should love who he marries."

Chrissy couldn't help but smile at the girl's earnest expression. Sophie spoke of her father at least a dozen times a day, a way of keeping him close, according to Lana. Both children dealt with their grief over their father's death differently, and Lana somehow managed to give them the support they needed. Chrissy greatly admired the woman's mothering skills. She wished her own mother could take a few lessons from her friend.

Michael answered his sister with a shrug. "Then she should have married George Willard. She loved him a little. I remember her saying she loved the way he kissed."

"Michael," Chrissy protested. "Please."

"What? What did I do now?"

Lana replied. "That was a private conversation, son. You shouldn't have eavesdropped."

"Y'all shouldn't have talked so loud. I am almost ten years old, you know. I'm going to listen about kissing."

"Kissing, ugh," Sophie said with a sniff.

Grinning, Chrissy reached down and tugged gently on the young girl's braid. Somewhere along the course of their friendship, the Klebergs had assumed the role of her romantic advisers. Chrissy honestly didn't mind the interference as it was done out of friendship and caring. Besides, their advice and observations often turned out to be right on the mark. Their comments about Jerry Wharton and George Willard were good examples. "Oh, kissing's not so bad, Sophie. George did have some power to his pucker."

Sophie rolled her eyes. "But you said kisses aren't enough to build a marriage on. Remember, Miss Chrissy? You said that when you sent George packing."

"Don't you ever forget anything, Sophie?" Chrissy's sigh floated on the air like steam rising from the chili pot.

"Sometimes, but not often. Papa said my memory was extraordinary."

"It's a pain in the neck," Michael observed, folding his arms.

"Michael!" warned his mother.

"Well it is." He turned to Chrissy and said, "I bet you would have tried a little harder to fall in love if you had known about your mama's plan."

Sophie braced her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. "A person can't try to fall in love. It just happens. Papa said so."

Chrissy shook her head and smiled. "You and your father discussed the subject of love quite a bit, didn't you, sweets?"

"I was curious."

"She is always curious," Lana said with a sigh. "She wears out my ears sometimes."

Chrissy silently agreed. In some ways Sophie was six going on sixteen. Her intuition bordered on spooky. She often made observations worthy of someone three times her age, but she would do so while playing with a baby doll. In addition to their conversations about kissing, Chrissy and Lana had also spent a fair amount of time wondering where the child's precociousness came from.

Sophie made a beeline for her mother and threw her arms around her for a hug. "I wear you out but you love me anyway."

When Lana beckoned her son to join them, Chrissy's heart swelled with pleasure and a touch of envy at the show of so much familial affection. The Delaneys certainly never wrapped themselves together in a huge hug.

Suddenly, the group turned on her. "Your turn, Miss Chrissy," said Sophie. "We love you, too, so you don't need a husband."

As the Kleberg children enveloped her, tears stung Chrissy's eyes. This was what had brought her to their home. At the end of this long, stressful day, she'd needed the balm of their friendship, the comfort of their love.

She carried that warm feeling in her heart with her as they toted Lana's baked goods to the plaza a short time later.

While the rest of her family set up their pastry stand next to Chrissy, Lana stirred the chili kettle and brought the conversation back around to Chrissy's troubles. "I wish we'd never encouraged you to have your own chili stand. I feel like it's my fault that you're in trouble with your family. It's my fault they're sending you to England."

"Don't be ridiculous," Chrissy responded. "You are not to blame for anything, and I won't hear otherwise. I like what we've accomplished here. I'm proud of my Chili Queen crown and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Is that true?" a deep, masculine voice drawled.

Chrissy closed her eyes.
Just what I need to end a perfectly horrible day.
Glancing over her shoulder, she spied Cole Morgan leaning against a nearby hitching post. Chrissy wanted to groan. Instead, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

Annoyance simmered in his ice-blue eyes. "That's exactly the question I intended to ask you."

"You asked it the other night. Now it's my turn."

Cole gave his broad shoulders a shrug. "Among other things, I thought I should inform you I've made our travel arrangements."

The sinking sensation in her stomach caught her by surprise. "That was quick."

"It was easy. Mrs. Cody apparently entertains herself by planning trips to Great Britain. She had sailing schedules and I telegraphed for tickets. We leave from Galveston three weeks from tomorrow."

"Three weeks," she repeated. Her knees went a little watery at the thought. Maybe she wasn't as ready to throw herself into the new life as she'd tried to tell herself.

Cole nodded. "We could have caught an earlier ship—one sails from New Orleans next week—but I've some loose ends at the office I need to tie up first. Besides, you probably need some time to grow accustomed to the idea of making this visit."

"Visit? This isn't a visit, Morgan. It's a move. I won't be returning to San Antonio."

"Don't say that, Miss Chrissy," Sophie protested, throwing her arms around Chrissy's legs in a hug. "You'll break my heart. Mama, tell her she can't move away."

Lana sighed. "Sophie, honey, come here."

At Cole's questioning look, Chrissy introduced him to Lana. Her friend was gracious, but the children scowled at the man they obviously perceived as a threat.