Simmer All Night (7 page)

Cole dragged a hand down his jaw line, feeling the bristle of an evening beard and searched for the right way to say what was on his mind. "Despite what you and your mother like to say, I'm not a Delaney so I try to keep my mouth shut about family matters as a rule. However..."

"This time you're involved."

Cole shot his friend a glare. "Too involved. This entire matter has gotten out of hand. Do you know what idiot idea is roaming around your sister's brain?"

"At least a dozen possibilities pop to mind."

"She says this trip to England won't be just a visit. She intends to go husband hunting over there, to live there permanently."

Following a quick grimace, Jake shook his head. "I find that hard to believe. The marriage talk was my mother's idea. Chrissy wouldn't agree to it for that reason alone."

Cole brushed his hand at the moth that kept tapping against the lamp. "She is serious, Jake. I saw it in her eyes. She means to make England her home."

Jake set down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and steepled his fingers in front of his blue brocade vest. A series of emotions flickered across his face: surprise, confusion, sorrow, and acceptance. "Maybe it's for the best," he finally said, as much to himself as to Cole.

"What?" Cole sat up straight. "How can you say that?"

"Mother and I hurt her. We don't mean to. But Chrissy... I don't know... she wants something... needs something... from her family that apparently we are incapable of providing. Anything we do try only seems to make it worse. This Chili Queen business? I've figured it out. It's blatant rebellion against our mother for the dressing-down she received for wearing her hair down somewhere she shouldn't have. That and pushing Chrissy to agree to act as co-hostess with her for the Harvest Ball."

"There." Cole slapped the desk. "You've proved my point. Christina dislikes such events. How many times have we heard her complain about her social duties? She may play the game well, but she doesn't enjoy it. If she chafes against the rules here in San Antonio, imagine how she'll feel in England. If her behavior creates scandals in Texas, think how it'll be over there. British society must have five rules to every one of ours. She'll be a fish out of water."

Jake waved away his concerns. "She'll do fine. My sister knows how to make friends and make a place for herself everywhere she goes. England will be no different. And maybe while she's busy doing that, she'll find the man who will give her the type of family she craves. Heaven knows she hasn't found him here, despite all the looking she's been doing."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Cole grumbled, rising to his feet. "I can't believe you are throwing her away."

Jake's eyes flashed angrily. "Watch your mouth, Morgan, and open up your ears. I love my sister. I want what's best for her, and I don't think she can find that here in San Antonio."

"All right, then. What's wrong with Austin? Aren't ninety miles enough? You have to have thousands?"

The questions hung suspended in the air until Jake blew them away with a heavy sigh. "What I must have is for all this tension in my family to disappear. It's not good for Chrissy, and especially not for our mother. There is something I haven't told you, Cole. About Mother. She's been having spells."

"Spells?"

"It's her heart."

"Elizabeth?" Cole took his seat.
No. She can't be ill.

Lines of worry plowed the skin of Jake's brow. In a strained voice, he said, "She hides it, or attempts to, anyway. I only know because I happened to be with her one day when she collapsed."

Cole muttered an epithet. "What does the doctor say?"

"You want the truth?"

Cole's gaze flicked up to meet his partner's grim stare and he nodded.

"He advised a holiday. For my sister. And that was before she took up with the Chili Queens."

Anger rumbled through Cole like a spring thunderstorm. Heaven knows Christina had numerous faults, but up until now he'd have placed selfishness way down the list. "So she just ignored Elizabeth's illness and continued to cause trouble?"

"Chrissy doesn't know Mother is ill." As Cole shot him an incredulous look Jake hastened to explain. "Mother forbade my telling her and besides, it makes sense to keep quiet. My sister would never leave San Antonio otherwise. You know it's true. But even if she swore to remain on her best behavior, we'd always be waiting for her to stumble. The atmosphere around Delaney House would drip with tension. No, Chrissy needs to go to England. It's better all the way around."

Cole thrummed his fingers against his thigh as he thought about it. Jake's argument made sense—up to a point. "So let her go for a holiday. She doesn't need to plan a permanent move."

Jake shrugged. "Maybe not. I admit I'll miss her something fierce. But since my father died I'm the head of this family, and as such I must put my mother's needs first. I think a wedding between my sister and a British gentleman might go a long way toward helping my mother recover her health. You haven't heard her talk about it like I have, Cole. She goes on and on and on about this duke's son and that earl's boy. She gets downright giggly at the idea of Chrissy giving her a titled son-in-law."

"Why?" Cole scowled as the news settled in his gut like bad homebrew. "This makes no sense. For as long as I can remember your mother has denounced the notion of royalty and peerage. She's always talked about how lucky we are to live in America where what a man does counts for more than who his father was."

Jake nodded. "I know. My knuckles still hurt from the rapping she gave them when we were kids and she caught me bragging about how my father was the son of an earl while yours was only a gardener."

"Assistant gardener," Cole absently corrected, his thoughts drifting to the past. He'd grown up thinking a man's family mattered because his gardener father and laundry maid mother had taught him it did. Even after they died the lesson stayed with him. His below-stairs background had planted a chip firmly on his shoulder that he took with him when he moved into Delaney House. Over time, and with a lot of patience and persistence, Elizabeth Delaney convinced him to dislodge that chip. By the time he left Delaney House, an eighteen-year-old man ready to find his place in the world, she had made him believe he was just as good as her blue-blooded son. Was it all a lie?

Cole cleared his throat. "So explain to me why she now thinks Christina should marry a baron."

"No, not a baron. Mother wants at least a viscount for Chrissy." Jake's voice dropped as he added, "She says Chrissy will need the rank to help overcome the disadvantage of being a Texan."

Cole's mouth dropped open in shock. "That doesn't sound a bit like the Elizabeth Delaney I know. 'Disadvantage of being a Texan.' She really said that?"

Jake nodded and Cole stood once more and began to prowl the room. "Something is very, very wrong here."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Jake said. "I'm very worried about my mother. I've tried to talk with her about her health, but she refuses to discuss it. Just between us, Cole, I wonder if this illness isn't worse than she lets on. Maybe she's afraid for her future, and she's looking to see her baby girl settled as comfortably as possible. The Delaneys have done all right financially, but it's nothing compared to what a man like my grandfather could give Chrissy. I wonder if that's why she has her heart set on a Brit for a son-in-law."

"Do you really think she's...?" The question faded as Cole was unable to voice his fear aloud.

"Dying? I don't know. Maybe. It's why I didn't fight her too hard about sending Chrissy away. It's the real reason I agreed that you should go looking for the Declaration of Independence instead of me." He gestured toward the stack of papers on his desk. "This murder case will never go to trial. Our client has an unassailable alibi. I could make the trip, but I'm afraid to leave Mother. I know I can trust you to stand in my place and see to Chrissy's welfare."

Cole exhaled a slow breath as he tried to absorb these new revelations. What a mess. Elizabeth ill. Chrissy leaving Texas. Could he lose both Delaney women?

Even as his heart twisted at that thought, another notion occurred that made him shut his eyes. "Jake, your father died while Chrissy was away."

"I know." Jake Delaney sighed. "If something happens to mother and my sister is an ocean away... ."

Grimly, Cole finished the sentence for him. "It will destroy her."

* * *

In her bedroom at Delaney House, Chrissy abandoned her effort to escape her worries in a book. The story was good, but she couldn't concentrate. Her gaze kept drifting to the framed photograph of her parents that sat on her dressing table.

Banished again. The first time had broken her heart. Facing it again sickened her soul. No matter how hard she tried to build those walls around her emotions, they weren't in place yet. "I'll have to work on that," she murmured, setting down the book and crossing the room to pick up the picture. Tracing the swirls on the carved mahogany frame with a fingertip, she gazed into the past.

Her sentimentality worked against her, she knew. She'd always been one to assign great import to things and events having to do with her family. For instance, she'd been thirteen when her father had Delaney House built, and while she'd been excited to move into the new place, she'd mourned leaving the home where she'd been born. Her brother still teased her about her tears when her parents turned over the keys to the new owners.

Holidays were another opportunity for emotions to cause her trouble. She'd never forget the time her brother skipped Thanksgiving dinner to accompany his current sweetheart's family to the Lake Bliss Spa. Chrissy had salted her cornbread dressing with tears simply because Jake wasn't there to help carve the turkey.

None of the Delaneys understood her reactions; none of them tried to understand. They dismissed her as being "overly sensitive" and went about their business. It seemed as if she'd spent much of her life apologizing for loving her family too much.

"Well, no more." These feelings were honest emotions and they were her emotions. They deserved at least a little respect.

Didn't they?

Chrissy dropped the picture onto her bed. Maybe not. Maybe she had been too sensitive. Maybe she had been foolish. Her mother and her brother—and before his death, her father—didn't attach such importance to ties and tradition.

No, that wasn't entirely true. They did place great store upon the family name and social standing. Why, Chrissy wondered, did the Delaney family always count for more in the scheme of things than the individual Delaney?

She pondered the question and had little success arriving at an answer. Eventually, worn by worry and indecision, she fell into sleep.

Hours passed before a sound at her window woke her.
Ping.
A pebble hit the glass.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
She rose from her bed and pushed the window open to hear a fiercely whispered, "Miss Chrissy?"

"Michael?" Moonlight lit Delaney House's back garden as Chrissy gazed down at the boy whose expression radiated fear. "Why are you here? What's the matter?"

"We need you. Please come. My grandparents arrived from New Braunfels. They somehow found out about my picking pockets, and now they're yelling at Mama and saying they're going to take us away from her. I don't know what to do."

"I'll be right down."

Chrissy threw on her clothes and hurried downstairs. Michael met her at the back door and together, they ran through San Antonio's darkened streets toward the Kleberg home. They arrived just as an older couple headed out the front door.

"You'll hear from our attorney tomorrow," said the white-haired man, his accent thick with Bavaria. "Perhaps the marshal, too. My grandchildren need immediate protection."

"You killed my son," added the woman in a scornful tone, her ample bosom heaving. "I'll not let you hurt his babies."

Slamming the door behind them, they conversed in German as they barreled down the front walk, all but knocking Chrissy down in their rush to leave. They didn't see Michael because he'd ducked behind a bush at the sight of them.

Hearing Lana's woeful weeping, Chrissy didn't bother to knock, but stepped right inside. Her heart broke to see her friend standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself, tears streaming down her face. Sophie stood in the bedroom doorway, her face a picture of fear. Chrissy flashed the girl a reassuring smile, then said, "Lana?"

She turned her head and Chrissy's breath caught. She'd grown accustomed to the expression of grief that sometimes flashed through Lana's eyes, but now... oh... they were haunting, filled with fear and desperation. "My babies," she said in a desolate tone, all color drained from her face. "My babies."

Then Lana collapsed.

"Mama!" Michael cried, joining Chrissy in the rush to help the fallen woman. They knelt beside her and Chrissy eased Lana's head into her lap. "Michael, dampen a handkerchief for me, please?"

The boy moved fast to do her bidding, and as Chrissy gently wiped her friend's brow, she attempted to reassure them all. "Don't worry. Your mother will be all right. She just had a shock."

Moments later, Lana stirred. "My babies," she said. "I must help..."

"Shh..." Chrissy soothed. "They're fine. But right now they need to know you're all right."

"All right? Oh. Yes. Of course." Lana sat up and cocked her head as she was wont to do when she concentrated. "Michael? Sophie? Don't be afraid. There is nothing to worry about, except maybe the fact that I'm in sore need of a hug."

Chrissy watched the trio embrace and wondered how anyone could possibly accuse Lana of hurting her children. Why, this woman was the best mother Chrissy had ever known, and she did it without the help of a husband.
It's a crime. That's what it
is.
The Kleberg grandparents
won't
get away with it.

Chrissy intended to make certain of it.

Twenty minutes later Lana had her children settled back into their beds. As she joined Chrissy in the kitchen, she put on a pot of tea and brought the cookie tin to the table. "Oh, Chrissy," she said, rubbing her temple. "At times like this I wish I had something stronger than chocolate in the house."