Chesapeake Summer by Jeanette Baker Read Free Book Online Page B

end of a nearly cooked crepe.
    Serena slapped her hand away. “You know how I feel about eatin’ over the sink, Chloe Richards. Your granddaddy is expectin’ you out on the porch.”
    â€œIs he up already?”
    Serena snorted. “Girl, it’s nine o’clock. You’re sleepin’ the day away.”
    Chloe sighed. “Give me a break, Serena. For me, it’s six o’clock in the morning.”
    â€œMr. Delacourte’s been up since five workin’ in that garden. I’m countin’ on you to stop him before he gets heatstroke.”
    Chloe nodded, grabbed a forbidden sausage from the platter on the counter and left the kitchen in search of her grandfather. She found him near the front porch, a lean, slightly hunched figure, his head protected by a wide-brimmed straw hat, trimming the gardenias. Staying well inside the shade of the porch canopy, she leaned against the railing and watched him, struck, for the first time, by signs that he was aging. Cole Delacourte was closing in on seventy years old. New lines carved his forehead and the planes of his cheeks. His wrists were bonier, his cheeks thinner. Overall, he appeared frail. She fought off the icy fist that closed over her heart at the thought of losing him and called out, “Morning, Granddad.”
    Cole Delacourte looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. I was beginning to think I’d starve to death.”
    â€œYou could have eaten without me.”
    He pretended indignation. “Not a chance, especially when my granddaughter has come all the way across country to visit me.” Cole pulled off his gloves and wiped his forehead. “Come on. Let’s eat out back and look at the bay.”
    They walked arm in arm, the tall, spare old man and the petite, golden girl, through the gracious colonial home that had housed five generations of Delacourtes, out the back door and across a deep, velvety lawn that curved down to the mighty Chesapeake, “the protein factory of the South,” her mother had once described it.
    Serena had set the table under the canopy of two enormous oak trees. What Chloe would have called pretentious for a Monday-morning breakfast in Southern California, the cloth napkins and white tablecloth, the shining silver and crystal goblets seemed just right here in the shade of her grandfather’s house. It was cooler this close to the water. Chloe felt the first stirrings of an appetite. She pulled out a chair and sat down. “So, Granddad, give me the latest gossip.”
    Cole poured dark, chicory-flavored coffee from the carafe into their cups. “Nothing much has changed around here. Your mama and Russ have their hands full with Gina Marie.”
    â€œI guessed as much from Mom’s phone calls. Gina’s not exactly the typical three-year-old, is she?”
    Cole’s lips twitched. “Spit it out, Chloe. What are you trying so politely not to say?”
    â€œShe’s spoiled rotten.”
    Cole threw back his head and laughed so loudly that Serena, bearing platters of crepes and sausage, heard him from inside the house. “Someone open this door for me,” she called out. “I’ve only got two hands.”
    â€œI’ll go,” Chloe said, moving as quickly as the heat would allow. She crossed the lawn, climbed the back steps and opened the door. “You’ll make me fat, Serena.” She reached for the crepe platter. “I never eat this much at home.”
    The black woman raised her eyebrows and gave Chloe’s slender legs and concave stomach an appraising look. “You could use a little weight, honey. I doubt you’d tip the scales at a hundred pounds.”
    Chloe’s cheeks flushed a warm apricot. “I’m not very tall,” she murmured just as they reached the table.
    â€œSometimes it’s hard to believe you’re Gina Marie’s sister,” the woman continued. “Now,