Love Inspired Historical November 2017 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

“I think what they want is to know they’re loved and will be well cared for. As I said before, we can start by doing all we can to see that they have as enjoyable a Christmas season as possible, considering the circumstances. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Wariness creased his brow. “I can tell by the determination in your eyes that you’re up to something. What is it?”

  “Just what I said. I’m going to make this Christmas extra special.”

  “And after that?”

  Another probing question. But she’d anticipated this one and had a ready answer. “We’ll discuss the children’s future then. It makes no sense to do so now. You and I have only had two brief interactions. Postponing the conversation will give us time to get better acquainted and determine which of our situations would be best for the children. Not only that, but if we put off the matter and focus on the children at present, they won’t witness any petty quibbling on our part. Not that you’d engage in any, of course,” she said with playfully exaggerated sincerity.

  A slow, easy smile lifted Henry’s lips and eased the tension in his face—his very handsome face. “My dear Miss Crowne, I’ve underestimated your talents. You’re quite the diplomat.”

  She returned his smile. “And you, Mr. Hawthorn, are a worthy adversary. If you’re in agreement with my plan and are willing to wait until December twenty-sixth to revisit the matter then perhaps you’d be willing to shake on it.” She extended her hand.

  He stared at it a moment before taking it. His grip was firm but not overly so. To her surprise, he didn’t pull his hand back right away. Although she welcomed the reassuring gesture—and the resulting warmth that flowed through her—the resolve in his eyes gave her cause for concern. “I appreciate how much the children matter to you, but don’t expect me to change my position.”

  She didn’t, which was why she would work hard to show her nieces and nephew why they’d be better off with her—and gain custody of them.

  * * *

  Lavinia closed her bedroom door behind her and inhaled deeply. The tantalizing scent of pies filled the air—apple and pumpkin, with more to come. Gladys had spent the previous afternoon in the kitchen, and she’d be there again today, getting things ready for tomorrow. Although this Thanksgiving meal wouldn’t be as sumptuous as those Lavinia had enjoyed around her father’s table, it would give the children their first taste of what life would be like when they reached their new home.

  She rapped on Alex’s door. “Good morning, my favorite nephew. Are you awake?”

  “It’s too early,” he grumbled.

  “You’d better hurry, or the girls will beat you downstairs.” She’d discovered that a friendly competition helped get the children moving in the morning. The one who reached the kitchen first got an extra slice of bacon. Marcie had earned that honor the past two days. The sound of feet hitting the floor told Lavinia that Alex intended to have it today.

  The door to the girls’ room opened, and little Dot peeked her head out. “I’m up, Aunt Livy, and I’m gonna get dressed real fast so I’m the firstest.”

  “I heard that!” Alex hollered from behind his door. “But I’ll be there before you!”

  Lavinia smiled. Another day was underway. She descended the stairs, ready for breakfast. After her frightening ordeal yesterday afternoon, followed by the draining conversation with Henry, her appetite had fled. She’d eaten little at supper and, consequently, had awoken hungry. She could almost taste Gladys’s crispy bacon, but—she sniffed—she couldn’t smell it.

  She hurried to the kitchen to find Gladys hunched over the cook stove. The wiry woman’s movements were stiff and slow. “What’s wrong?”

  “My rheumatism is acting up again, so wrestling with all these buttons took a while.” She swept a hand over her bodice. “Don’t you worry, though. I’ll get that bacon going right away.” Gladys placed several thick strips in the bottom of a frying pan and plunked it on the burner.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’d be happy to help.”

  Gladys turned and studied Lavinia. The older woman’s face was pinched with pain. “I reckon you mean well, Miss Lavinia, but what do you know about cooking?”

  Very little, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. “I’m a quick learner.”

  “Then put on an apron, and you can take over.”

  Lavinia grabbed a knee-length red apron that looked good against her green dress. The colors reminded her of Pauline. Her sister had rarely worn any others. “What do I do?”

  Gladys handed her a pair of tongs. “Watch the bacon, and turn it every now and then. Keep your face back ’cause it splatters. I’ll fry up the eggs.” She reached for a second frying pan, but the heavy iron skillet slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor, narrowly missing her feet.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. My fingers are just being a mite troublesome this morning.”

  Lavinia picked up the frying pan, which had landed right side up. “Why don’t you have a seat at the kitchen table and instruct me from there?”

  “Maybe I should rest my poor hands a bit. They’ve got a lot of work ahead of them the next two days.” Gladys gave Lavinia a quick lesson in how to fry an egg and sank into the nearest chair.

  Lavinia’s mind raced, going over the many items yet to be prepared for tomorrow’s feast. She couldn’t ask Gladys to work when she was in such pain, but without her help, the meal was in jeopardy.

  A rap on the back door startled Lavinia. She rushed over, saw Henry through the window in the upper half and yanked open the door. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “I’ve been eating my meals with the children. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

  Technically it wouldn’t be. They had plenty of food, but she had no desire for him to witness her first cooking lesson. What choice did she have, though? He was the children’s uncle and had a right to spend time with them. A legal right, thanks to the will he’d shown her after their conversation on Monday. Not that she’d let that stop her. A will could be contested.

  She produced a polite smile. “Come in and take a seat. I have to see to the bacon.”

  He glanced at her apron and back again. “You’re cooking?” His voice held a note of disbelief. Not surprising, since he knew her father employed several servants, but discouraging just the same. Although she might be uneducated in certain areas, she wouldn’t let that serve as an obstacle. She’d learn whatever skills she needed to care for the children, and it appeared cooking would be the first.

  “Gladys isn’t feeling up to preparing breakfast today, so I’ve taken over.” Lavinia hurried to the stove where the bacon was sizzling, turned the strips and added a dollop of butter to the second frying pan.

  She took an egg out of the basket and rapped it against the edge of a bowl as Gladys had instructed her. Something went wrong, and the slimy mess oozed over Lavinia’s hands. A groan escaped her.

  Gladys clucked her tongue. “Don’t hit it so hard, Miss Lavinia.”

  “Here you go.” Henry held out a damp cloth.

  “Thanks.” She wiped her sticky hands, grabbed another egg and tapped it on the lip of the bowl, doing her best to ignore the handsome man leaning against the counter. Her efforts resulted in a jagged crack. She positioned the egg over the frying pan, careful to get it close enough, and gently pulled the shell apart. The egg plopped into the pan with the sunny yellow yolk intact. So far, so good.

  As she held the spatula and watched the white part cook, trying to determine the right time to flip the egg, the thundering of feet on the stairs announced the children’s imminent arrival. She turned just in time to see the three of them racing through the dining room.

  “I’m going to win!” Alex hollered.

  “Oh, no you’re not.” Marcie shot forward.

  They reach
ed the kitchen doorway at the same time, with Dot right behind. The little girl darted between them, tripping Marcie in the process and bumping into Alex. The three children toppled over.

  Alex dragged himself out of the heap and huffed. “I was first.”

  “No you weren’t. I was.” Marcie popped up and glared at her brother.

  Dot sat on the floor with her lower lip puffed out in a pout. “You’re wrong. I’m the winner, aren’t I, Uncle Henry?”

  “From what I saw, six arms and legs were tangled up together, so that makes it a three-way tie.”

  Lavinia smiled. “He’s right. You’re all winners and get an extra slice of bacon.”

  The bacon! She spun around, grabbed the tongs and flipped the sizzling strips.

  Gladys helped Dot to her feet and dusted her off.

  Marcie sidled up to Henry. “It wasn’t really a tie, was it? You just said that so Dot wouldn’t cry, right?” The precocious girl didn’t miss much.

  Henry ruffled Marcie’s mass of dark curls that Lavinia had yet to wrestle into a braid. “I saw three young Hawthorns burst through that door at the same time, and I couldn’t be prouder. My nieces and nephew know how to go after what they want. If I’d known there was extra bacon to be had, I’d have been racing here, too.”

  Lavinia slid the spatula under the egg and attempted to turn it over, but the slippery thing slid off before she was ready. The yolk broke open. Gladys made preparing breakfast seem easy, but the task was harder than it looked.

  Marcie made a choking sound. “I’m not eating that egg.”

  Alex wandered over and peered into the pan. “Why are you cooking and not Miss Gladys?”

  “She’s not feeling well, so I’m taking over.”

  He glanced at the kitchen table, where Gladys sat holding Dot, and back again. “What’s wrong with her? She doesn’t look sick.”

  “It’s just my joints.” Gladys held up her bent fingers. “They get stiff every now and then.”

  “Then let Uncle Henry cook,” Marcie said. “He’s good at it.”

  Henry placed his hands on Marcie’s shoulders and turned her toward the table. “Your aunt would have an easier time of it without you children getting in her way. Take a seat, and your breakfast will be ready soon.”

  They obeyed him without the usual objections Lavinia encountered. Henry came alongside her and lowered his voice. “If you’d like, I could fry the eggs.”

  The last thing Lavinia needed was for her first attempt at cooking to result in total failure with Henry watching. She could ask Gladys for another egg-frying lesson later when she didn’t have a room full of young critics.

  “You’ll need this.” She held out the spatula to him.

  He chuckled. “And here I thought you’d turn me down.”

  She probably should have. Working side-by-side was more disconcerting than she’d expected. She was all too aware of Henry’s powerful presence. His muscular arm brushed hers as he attempted to salvage the sorry egg, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

  Taking her cue from him, she adopted a playful tone. “I considered refusing, but since we’re running behind schedule this morning, I decided to let you come to my rescue.” Again. This was their third interaction—and the third time he’d found her in a less than flattering situation.

  He leaned so close that his breath warmed her cheek. “I only come to the rescue of pretty women with piles of curls.” He tugged on one of her curls that had broken free of her pins, let it go and smiled as the spiral sprung back into place.

  Had Henry just flirted with her? The idea seemed preposterous but strangely appealing. Since she had no idea how to respond, she remained silent and focused on her task.

  Several minutes later, they all sat around the table. Every plate boasted crispy strips of bacon and, with one exception, expertly fried eggs that would have made even the finicky chef at the restaurant inside her father’s Royal Crowne Hotel in New York City happy. Henry had taken the remains of her failed attempt. He speared a bite of the egg and ate it with as much relish as the children did theirs.

  He looked up, caught her staring at him and winked. Merriment danced in his blue eyes. It seemed he was just toying with her. She’d been a ninny to think he was drawn to her. Oh, there were sparks between them, however, they weren’t fueled by attraction but by their adversarial relationship. They might have deferred their discussion regarding the children’s future until after Christmas, but it was on her mind. No doubt it was on his, too.

  Alex and Marcie left to walk to school with their next-door neighbor, Norma, a short time later, lunch pails in hand. Dot went to her room to watch her siblings as they headed down Church Street toward the schoolhouse on the west side of Main, which doubled as the church while the small congregation worked to raise the funds needed to construct a building of their own.

  Gladys began to gather the dirty dishes, but Lavinia stopped her. “I’ll see to those. You need to rest.”

  “I’m not one to shirk my duties. If I rub on some liniment, I’ll be fine. Thanksgiving is tomorrow. There’s a meal to be prepared, and I aim to do it.”

  “Now, Gladys,” Henry began, “I’m inclined to agree with Lavinia. Bustling around a kitchen for the next two days when you’re already hurting is likely to make things worse. What you need is someone who could work under your direction. I’m available.”

  Gladys studied him through narrowed eyes. “You can fry an egg, but there’s a lot more work involved in fixing a feast. Are you sure you’re up for that?”

  He nodded. “Provided Lavinia has no objections…” He turned to her. “What do you say?”

  Why must he be so agreeable? And helpful? And adorable? With that boyish eagerness in eyes, she was powerless to resist him. “It appears I don’t have a choice, but it would ease my mind if I knew you’d be able to follow Gladys’s directions.”

  “Ah.” He flashed her a winsome smile and continued, his lovely rolled R a bit more pronounced than usual. “You’re wondering if I can cook. The answer is yes. I’m a long-time bachelor and know my way around a kitchen. Besides, I’ll have Gladys there to make sure I don’t make a mess of things.”

  His confidence eased the tension in Lavinia’s shoulders. “Very well. I’ll leave the meal in your hands then.”

  “Don’t worry. It will be a feast you’ll remember for years to come.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The blast of pumpkin-scented air that escaped as Henry opened the oven door that afternoon made his mouth water. He could almost taste the rich filling. Plunging a butter knife into it and marring that smooth surface wouldn’t be easy, but he had to know if the pie was fully baked. He stuck in the blade and quickly pulled it out. Clean.

  Gladys lay on the settee he’d moved into the kitchen and watched as he set the pan on a trivet in the middle of the table. “If that tastes as good as it smells, we’re in for a treat. The custard is smooth, and your pie crust turned out quite flaky. I never heard of keeping the ingredients on ice before, but I’m going to try that next time.”

  “I think every kitchen should have an icebox. I’m surprised Mr. Crowne’s doesn’t.”

  She snorted. “He’s not one to think about making life easier for his household staff. It’s a different story when it comes to his hotels and restaurants, though. I hear they have all the modern conveniences.”

  Henry wasn’t surprised. From what he’d seen, Paul Crowne put his hotel empire before everything else, even his own family. They were expected to do his bidding, just as his employees and vendors were. Henry had seen that himself when Jack landed the contract for the iron work at the Crowne Jewel Hotel in Philadelphia. Mr. Crowne had barked orders at Jack. The domineering man had been just as demanding with Pauline, whose artistic bent had earned her the right to plan the hotel’s décor. />
  To her credit, his eldest daughter hadn’t cowed under the pressure. Pauline had stood up to her father regarding the work. She did so again when she fell in love with Jack and chose to marry him against her father’s wishes. She’d held her head high at the wedding, even though her father had refused to come and forbade his wife from attending, too.

  At least Lavinia had shown up. Whether she’d chosen to defy her father or not, Henry didn’t know. She was understandably reserved that day, glossing over the matter of her parents’ glaring absence with well-rehearsed comments. Despite her aloofness, he’d detected a note of sadness in her bearing and pain in her eyes.

  His attempt to make her feel more welcome at the wedding had resulted in disaster. She hadn’t heard him coming and had started, causing her to drop the piece of cake she’d been holding. Her mortification led to a temporary collapse of the barrier she’d erected. In that moment, he’d seen a joyless young woman trapped in a lonely existence.

  If only she could break free, as her sister had. But from what he’d seen so far, Lavinia was more deeply entrenched in the ways of her father’s world than before. Worse yet, she wanted to whisk the children away and immerse them in that life, too, which wasn’t going to happen. They deserved to be happy. So did their devoted aunt, who was trying hard to prove that she was capable of caring for them.

  Henry smiled at the memory of Lavinia staring at the frying pans that morning with determination befitting a military commander facing a ruthless foe. If only she could bring that stoutheartedness to bear in her dealings with her iron-fisted father.

  “Don’t be daydreaming, Mr. Henry,” Gladys chided. “This meal won’t fix itself.”

  He roused himself from his musings. “You’re right.”

  “At least you took a pleasant journey, judging by that smile.”

  The front door opened, and childish laughter filled the entryway. Lavinia and the children had returned. With school finished for the day, the holiday recess was officially underway. Despite the terrible losses they’d suffered the past year, they would celebrate with a meal sure to help ease the heaviness in their hearts.