The moonlight danced off the cool water of Martin’s Lake. From behind came a splash followed by a nibble on the ear.
“Ah, Madeline.”
“Madeline?”
“Oh, Maura.”
“Maura? SCOTT!”
“What?” Scott’s eyes popped open to discover he was nose to nose with his cousin.
“We’ve missed our train and you sit here dreaming about the McGuire twins? Honestly!”
As Kinsey’s knuckle punch to his upper arm distanced Scott from the embrace of Maura - or was it Madeline - McGuire, he discovered falling asleep in the chair rewarded him with a stiff neck while the brandy was kindly providing the pounding headache.
“Someone stole my shoes!”
Correction. Kinsey’s kindly providing the pounding headache.
“No one has stolen your shoes, Kinsey. Sit down and give me a moment.”
“We’ve missed our train.”
“What time is it?”
“Early.”
“Who taught you to punch like that?”
“Sean Willowby.”
“I thought he taught you how to kiss.”
What’s wrong with your neck?
“It hurts.”
“What’s wrong with your head?”
“It hurts more.”
“What about our train?”
“We missed it.”
Scott removed his feet from the chair’s hassock and with the toe of his boot pushed it towards his shoeless travel companion.
“Take a seat.”
Looking at his cousin’s troubled expression, he chose his words carefully. He knew if there were the slightest mention of her return to Melbourne he would have a runaway on his hands - a very crafty, resourceful, runaway.
“We’re going to Boston.”
“Why? And please remember when giving me an explanation I’m not twelve years old.”
Scott raised his eyebrows. “I’ll do my best if you please remember that sassing me will only lead you to one destination.”
Scott rubbed his neck and forced himself to have more patience. Over the months he had learned Kinsey would mask her anxiousness with a sassy mouth. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled to clear the remaining cobwebs of Martin’s Lake from his mind. “My grandfather is concerned about losing his position as the executor of your trust fund. He feels he is better suited for the role, however, your grandfather, for whatever reason, disagreed and now we are caught in the middle. It’s been suggested we stay in Boston until the next train departs for San Francisco in four days.“
“Who agreed to this?”
“I did.”
“Maybe I want to go home.”
All right. This tactic was not working.
The older cousin smiled hoping to calm the suspicious eyes glaring back at him. “It will be good! I can show you all the Boston haunts of my youth.”
“And what about your grandfather?”
“Well, this also gives us time to discuss…”
“All of us?”
“Yes, Freckles…all of us time to discuss Fletcher Garrett’s will and decide what is best.”
Silence.
“Kinsey quit being stubborn.”
“Said the pot to the kettle.”
Silence.
“Did I mention the Boston Athenaeum has an excellent art collection?” Never far from her reach, he watched Kinsey hug the sketch journal he had bought for her, lost in her thoughts.
Scott continued to quietly and calmly reassure his little cousin. “Everything is going to be fine. I promise. This is just my grandfather being…my grandfather. I want him to see you are an intelligent, independent, adventurous young lady, a fine addition to the Garrett heritage to be proud of.”
“You want me to pretend?”
“Now who’s being the goof?”
“You’re proud of me?”
“I am.”
“A fine addition?”
“You are.”
“Four days in Boston and then home.”
“Yes.”
“I think someone stole my shoes.”
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Joining my grandfather, we will be boarding the late morning train to Boston. Not knowing what he chose to communicate in his telegram to Murdoch, it is imperative I find time to slip away to the telegraph office to send my own to my father detailing my plan as much as a brief message will allow.
~ S.
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