Simmer All Night

by Geralyn Dawson

  "Please take a seat, Cole." Elizabeth nodded toward one of the deep leather chairs across the desk from her. "Jake tells me you two are scheduled to meet with a client at eleven, so I'd like to begin. We've much to discuss,"

  Seated in the chair beside him, Christina smoothed her skirt and managed to appear almost prim as she said, "Mother, I suspect you've called me here to discuss my chili stand?"

  Elizabeth nodded. "Among other things."

  "In that case, I don't think we need to keep the boys from their business."

  "Men, Chrissy," Jake grumbled. "Not boys."

  Shaking her head, Elizabeth replied, "This is a family matter of some importance. Jake and Cole must be part of it."

  Christina shot Cole a look that all but shouted, You're not family.

  "Cole is family," her mother declared, correctly reading her daughter. "His input into this situation is vital."

  "But—"

  "Save your breath, Christina," Cole said, trying in his own way to smooth the waters. "I'd just as soon be somewhere else myself, but Miss Elizabeth asked me."

  "That's it, then," she muttered just loud enough for Cole to hear. "If my mother asked you to break both legs, you'd do it just because she asked."

  Elizabeth said, "Don't mumble, child."

  Christina gave her head a little shake. "Like you said, Mother, let's proceed, shall we? After all, I'm accustomed to being scolded in public."

  Jake snorted and turned away from the window. "Our library isn't exactly public. It's nothing like the plaza. You remember the plaza, don't you? The place where you danced like a strumpet and kissed a gambler right on the mouth? Now that's public."

  Elizabeth Delaney put a hand to her head, looking tired. "Oh, hush. All of you, quit your bickering." She gestured toward her son. "Jake, I ask you to allow me to do the talking here. This will be difficult enough without your ill-advised comments."

  Difficult? The word combined with Elizabeth Delaney's grave tone had Cole's mouth twisting in a frown. He was getting a bad feeling about this discussion.

  "Oh, daughter." A heavy sigh blew across the desk like a bitter breeze. Elizabeth's jade-colored eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "It breaks my heart that it has come to this. I see so much good in you. You are kind and generous and tender-hearted. You are truly the most compassionate person I know. But I also see reckless behavior, poor judgment, and ill-considered choices."

  She ticked off the points on her fingers. "There was the horse race with Scott Jenkins, the gambling incident with Andrew Hobbs, the altercation you inspired between John Halford and Christopher Gates during Sunday services, the late-night fishing excursion with Todd Wright."

  "Mother, those incidents all happened months ago."

  "Well, this... this... chili kiss in the public square is certainly current. As if that wasn't enough, you attempt to poison our dear Cole—"

  "Poison!" Chrissy exclaimed. "I didn't—"

  Jake interjected, "That pepper might as well have been poison. Cole was sick as a dog after eating it. I was with him. I saw it all. The man lost his supper."

  Cole studied his fingernails and observed, "I think we can blame that on the chili, not the pepper."

  "The chili!" Her glare seared him like her pepper. "Look, if you're not man enough to handle a little hot pepper, why don't you—"

  Elizabeth slapped a hand on the desktop. "Enough. This is another example of the unladylike behavior that convinced me to make my choice. Christina, you need structure and discipline in your life."

  Chrissy sat back in her chair and folded her arms, her expression mutinous.

  Her mother continued, "I've tried. Heaven knows I've tried, but obviously I'm lacking in will where you are concerned. I thought long and hard about this situation, and I see but one solution."

  "This is an old conversation, Mother," Chrissy said quickly. "I won't be married off."

  Cole's gut went tight with tension. Surely Elizabeth didn't... certainly she would not... was that why she'd called him here? Suddenly Cole was glad he was already sitting down.

  In the past, various people had joked about the possibility of his marrying Christina. He'd never taken the idea seriously. He'd all but grown up with the girl; she was like a sister to him. She was. Honestly.

  He shut his eyes, willing away the memories of recent instances when his brotherly blinders had slipped.

  No, he was smarter than that. The man who married Christina Delaney would be tying himself to a tornado of trouble. The man who married her would spend half his time chasing off the men who buzzed around her like bees.

  Yes, but he'd get to spend the other half in her bed.

  He shot a guilty glance around the room. Luckily, no one paid him any attention. All eyes were focused on Christina.

  She gripped her chair's arms hard, the light in her eyes fierce. "You can't force me to marry. Don't forget your promise."

  "No, I won't pressure you to wed," Elizabeth said with a sigh. "My father tried to do that to me, and I swore then I'd never make the same mistake with my children. I won't have you forced into elopement in order to marry the man you love like I was. It caused both me and my father a great deal of pain, and it's only been since your father died that I've felt free to attempt to mend the breach. My father admits he made a mistake trying to force me to wed the Marquess of Rushton. He's a good man, your grandfather. Strict, certainly, and a stickler for maintaining discipline, but he was fair, too. He gave me a balanced upbringing. That's where your father and I failed you, Christina. We were too lax when it came to discipline."

  "Lax?" She leaned forward. "Mother, you sent me away. You made me leave my home."

  "But look what mischief on your part was required for us to finally act."

  Chrissy pushed to her feet, her eyes fierce with righteous anger. "I wasn't the only one up to mischief that night. I followed him," she pointed to her brother, "and him," she gestured toward Cole, "to a bordello. I get shipped off to boarding school, never to see my father again, and what do they get? A slap on the wrists. Mother, this family exhibits a double standard when it comes to male and female that is downright shameful."

  Cole grimaced as Jake protested, "Now, wait a minute."

  Elizabeth motioned toward Chrissy's chair. "Please, Christina, resume your seat. I have no intention of revisiting that old argument. We've other, more important items to discuss." She drew a deep breath and said, "I mentioned your grandfather for a reason. The earl is just the person you need right now. I want you to visit him, Christina. I want you to make it an extended visit."

  Cole pursed his lips and sucked in a breath. Not marriage. Elizabeth doesn't want me to marry Christina. He exhaled, waiting for relief to sweep through him. Instead, the strangest sort of hollow sensation crept over him.

  Christina was going away.

  He glanced over to gauge her reaction. What he saw caused his gut to twist. Devastation—wrenching and total.

  Oh, Christina.

  She wilted down into her seat. In a thready voice, she asked, "You're sending me away again?"

  "I think it's for the best," her mother gently replied. "You need a male influence in your life, and since you've shown no signs of falling in love, a wedding isn't the answer. I know better than to attempt to give your brother authority over you. The ideal solution is for you to spend some time at Hartsworth."

  "Sending me away," Christina murmured, her complexion pale. "Again."

  The bewildered hurt in her voice tugged at Cole, made him want to reach out to her in comfort. He didn't disagree with Elizabeth's solution. Christina had brought this on herself. But he hated to see any one in pain, and no one in this room could deny Christina's reaction. She looked battered and beaten.

  He threw a half-angry gaze toward Jake. Do something, he silently demanded. Say something.

  Jake wrenched away from his place by the window and began to pace the room, "Don't think of it that way, Chrissy. We're not sending you away. Mother is offer
ing you a wonderful opportunity. Think about it. Travel abroad. You'll get to see sights I've always dreamed of visiting. Do you know how many people would love to be in your shoes?"

  Christina extended her feet toward Jake. "Here, you're more than welcome to them."

  Elizabeth leaned forward. "You'll love Hartsworth, Christina. It's a grand manor complete with every luxury imaginable. The gardens are like nothing you've ever seen, I remember house parties Father hosted where merriment filled Hartsworth from wing to wing. And I know how much you love to dance. I'm sure my father will host a ball in your honor during your visit. Oh darling, you'll have the chance to meet a multitude of suitable young gentlemen."

  Cole snorted silently. Christina and a stiff-upper-lip Englishman? That would set back relations between the U.S. and Britain a hundred years.

  "A gentleman." The corners of Christina's mouth fluttered up, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She demonstrated that her fighting spirit had returned by straightening in her chair and saying, "Ah, now I see. You want me to marry a foreigner and never come home. From Chili Queen to countess, perhaps? It would be a demotion in my eyes, but I understand why you wouldn't see it that way."

  "That's not how it is and you know it," Jake said, raking his fingers through his hair.

  Chrissy looked at Cole. "Did you know about this?"

  "No," he honestly replied. If he had, he'd have shot the idea down. He'd put some thought into this since witnessing her Chili Queen triumph, and he thought he had the problem figured out. Marriage wasn't the answer for Christina. She needed something to exercise her mind. The girl was smart and filled with energy. That's what was getting her in trouble, not the lack of a masculine hand guiding her life. What Christina needed was a project to keep her busy. Something interesting and worthwhile, though. Not some silly little ladies' busy-work.

  Then Cole saw the light. The Declaration of Independence. That was Elizabeth's plan. She was sending Chrissy in his place. That's why he'd been made a part of this meeting. He was off the hook; he wouldn't have to make the trip to England, after all.

  Once again Cole waited for the relief to seep through him. Once again he waited in vain.

  Apparently, Christina had figured out her mother's plans as well. Rueful amusement shadowed her smile as she spoke to him. "You didn't know either, hmm? Well you might want to brace yourself, Cole. I suspect their plot involves you." She looked at her mother. "Am I right?"

  "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 migh
t 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.