Lily George - Once More A Family

“I hope it’s all right, Mrs. Burnett, but I presumed to order our meal,” the old man drawled. He cast a malicious glance in Jack’s direction. “If I let your husband order, he might make us eat a bowl of chili con carne with cornbread muffins.” He chuckled in appreciation of his dig at Jack.

Jack would not be riled. Too much was at stake. “Yup,” he responded, keeping his tone light. “There’s nothing like a good bowl of chili and corn bread.”

Ada was smiling, but it was a smile he had come to know as being one of tremendous strain and not of genuine good feeling. She took a sip of her lemonade. “I’m sure that any meal will be quite fine, Mr. St. Clair. In fact, I relish this opportunity to know you better. I understand that your daughter was married to Mr. Burnett.”

“Yes, my only daughter, Emily. She was a rare creature, Mrs. Burnett, as blond as you are brunette. I have no idea what such a gentle, sweet child saw in Jack Burnett, I can tell you that.” St. Clair flicked an appraising glance at Jack. “He came out to our home in Charleston to buy a few of my horses, and they fell in love, I suppose. They eloped and he carried her back to Texas. Emily died only a few years later.”

“I am sorry to hear it.” Ada looked at a loss for words. She glanced at Jack, as though appealing to him to help carry the conversational load.

Although he’d like to rebut the older man’s story—and many detestable remarks hung on Jack’s tongue—he wouldn’t do it. Instead, he fisted his hands on his lap and gritted his teeth to keep his thoughts from spilling forth. Anything he said would make St. Clair angrier and more stubborn. Ada had a job to do. It was up to her charm and wit to bring Laura home. He had tried too many times in the past and failed.

St. Clair nodded as the waitress approached their table, bearing a tray of toast rounds and caviar. Jack despised caviar. He had never understood why such a disgusting thing was considered a delicacy. But if he refused, St. Clair would start ribbing him about being a backward cowboy, and he could only take so much of that before he snapped. So he helped himself to two, ready to choke them down.

“So, Mrs. Burnett, you are of the Westmore family in New York. I knew of your father, Augustus. I never met him personally, but one hears of such a powerful man, you know.” St. Clair took a careful bite of his caviar. “Tell me, did the scandal surrounding his memory have a basis in truth? The word is, he was trying to fix a local election.”

Ada grew pale and pushed her toast round away. “I never had a chance to ask him, Mr. St. Clair. He died before I could learn what really happened. Of course, I don’t believe it has basis in fact.”

“Pardon my asking, my dear.” St. Clair leaned across the table, his gray hair glinting in the sunlight. “It’s just that I have to make certain that Laura is going to a good home. I want her to be raised in a proper manner, in genteel surroundings. Now, as you have seen yourself, Winchester Falls is a rather rough-and-ready town.”

Ada inclined her head a trifle. “Yes, it is.” She fixed St. Clair with an understanding look. “On the other hand, I must say that Jack’s deep love for his daughter is abundantly clear to me. I think that having a loving parent—two loving parents, that is—accounts for as much or even more than a polished atmosphere.”

Jack glanced over at Ada. No one except Pearl Colgan had defended him to the St. Clair family. She gave him a warm smile, her blue eyes twinkling.

All talk lapsed as the waitress took away the caviar and replaced it with bowls of clear chicken broth. This was better than the previous course but, still, hardly filling.

St. Clair sipped at his soup. “You are active in the suffragette movement, are you not?” He spoke so abruptly that Ada choked on her broth. The old man waited until she had taken a sip of water and then pressed on. “I’m not certain that I want Laura exposed to progressive ideals.”

Ada, red faced from swallowing wrong or from the line of questioning—or possibly both—turned to Jack, the light of appeal in her blue eyes.

He gave in to pity. She was doing the best she could, and he needed to step up, too. He turned to the old man. “Laura’s my daughter, St. Clair,” he responded. “If I don’t mind Ada as her mother, then neither should you.”

These were fighting words, and he knew it. On the other hand, he wasn’t going to permit St. Clair attacking Ada. She was trying to help. Because of her, he might get Laura back. If the old man wanted to mock him for being a rube, he could have at it. These insults were nothing new. Insulting Ada was an entirely different matter.

St. Clair glared at him. “You know full well that my daughter’s will gave me authority over certain aspects of Laura’s life. She didn’t trust you to do much of anything with Laura in the event of her death.”

Jack fixed his father-in-law with a defiant stare, all the rage he had initially felt over Emily’s will rushing back, filling him with anger so potent that he clenched his fists.

The waitress chose that opportune moment to clear the soup bowls away and brought the main course.

“Chicken à la King,” Ada murmured appreciatively. “I haven’t had this since leaving New York. It’s one of my favorites. Our cook had just learned the recipe.”

Jack shifted his attention to her. How could she even have an appetite now? Was the woman made of stone? Yet, as he glowered at her, her hands trembled when she took up her fork. Her face was now drained of all color.

Her enthusiasm was a ruse to break the tension. She took an unsteady bite of her dinner, and as she chewed, her jaw squared. She was girding herself, in the same way he had done, for battle. Ada was nobody’s fool. By this time she had surely learned his father-in-law’s manner. First, flattery. Later, he would go for the kill.

“I understand your hesitation, Mr. St. Clair,” she continued, as though the fracas between the two men had never happened. “After all, you are Laura’s grandfather. She is your treasure, too. I assure you that my intention is to help bring her up as a young woman should be raised.”

St. Clair nodded, looking at Ada, and his keen brown eyes narrowed. “I worry that if I release her to your care, I’ll never see her again. St. Louis is neutral territory. If she goes with you to Winchester Falls, then I would probably have to journey to that rustic community just to see her.”

Ada shot Jack a pleading glance. “I’m sure my husband would have no objection if Laura came to visit.”

“I want her to come to Evermore, our family home, for two weeks every year. The rest of her family—cousins, aunts, uncles—wish to see her as much as I do.” St. Clair’s voice took on a clipped tone. He was in full bargaining mode now.

“One week,” Jack countered. He was feeling reckless. St. Clair had managed to rile him up enough that he was beginning to enjoy the thought of needling the old man.

“It will take at least a few days for her to journey there and back,” Ada spoke up. “Two weeks must include her traveling.”

“Two weeks if Ada goes along as her chaperone,” Jack snapped. Ada had no business lengthening the visit without his consent.

“Don’t you want to go?” Ada asked, her eyes widening.

“I’m never setting foot on Evermore soil again.” He leaned across the table, staring down his father-in-law.

“That, young man, is certainly fine with me,” St. Clair retorted.

Ada gasped. “Gentlemen.” It was the first time she had intervened without merely trying to change the subject.

Things must be too far gone if she was stepping in like this. A hollow feeling filled the pit of Jack’s stomach. Had he allowed himself to be goaded to the point that there was no way Laura could come home?