Frowning, Scott watched his grandfather close his pocket watch with a distinct and familiar click.
“We can now relax, enjoy our brandies, discuss Kinsey’s future…and perhaps yours too, Scott. Hopefully, we can do so without the foolishness of telling the time every few minutes.”
Scott reset his imaginary chessboard to begin again. “Agreed. But only if we can do so without the foolishness of disguising threats as well-meaning intentions.”
“Not threats, Scotty. Concerns.”
With a grim smile, Scott studied his brandy. Again, the difference of just one word and the impact it can make.
“Sir, I think your concerns are rooted in the fact that you no longer have control over your brother’s estate which is, from your point of view, quite understandable. Fletcher’s decision to name me the trustee I still can’t comprehend. We didn’t part on the best of terms that day as I’m sure you are aware of.”
“Scotty,” Harlan smiled at his grandson. “Did you honestly call him an arrogant son-of-a-bitch?”
“I did.”
“Well…” Harlan took a sip of his brandy. “Fact of the matter is…he was…but a wealthy one.”
Silence.
“Would it be fair to say Kinsey is impetuous at times?”
Scott started to go over the list in his mind - riding beyond her boundaries, kicking a doctor’s son in the shin, stepping out in front of a streetcar, near plummeting off a cliff, throwing a tantrum in front of Murdoch…
“No Sir, I wouldn’t say she was impetuous. Kinsey’s quite level-headed.”
Harlan watched his grandson take a rather generous draw on his brandy to help swallow down his last statement.
“Kinsey is very young and you, grandson, are not that much older than she. If I could just be convinced that the maturity of you both can withstand the pressures of making good financial decisions well, then...” Harlan Garrett held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I would have no need to protest the will or suggest Kinsey return to her parents.”
Scott crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. “Tell me, Sir, what will it take to persuade you that Kinsey is a fine, common sense, young woman and I am more than capable of guiding her and protecting her when the situation calls for it?”
“Come to Boston.”
Losing grasp of his forced, aloof, demeanor, Scott rolled his eyes.
“Oh, you have to be joking!”
“Scotty, hear me out. Four days. That’s all I’m asking. It’s impossible to acquire train travel to San Francisco before then. Why stay in Philadelphia when you can be in Boston? Give me a chance to know Kinsey better. Allow me to show her what her life could be like in Boston.”
“She had that life in Melbourne, Sir.”
“Melbourne isn’t Boston.”
“Boston isn’t Lancer.”
It was Harlan’s turn to cross his arms and take a stance. “We finally agree on something; Boston isn’t Lancer.”
It was now clear to Scott what his grandfather desired. He wanted Kinsey…along with her finances, assets, and the possible avenue in which to bring his grandson back into his life. Harlan Garrett was going to manipulate Kinsey into a position of choosing between two worlds; a position Scott himself went through with his grandfather not so long ago.
“If I decline? If I decide Kinsey and I will not join you in Boston? What then?”
“The legal battle would be long, but in the end, I would regain trustee status of Kinsey’s inheritance. Returning the young lady to her parents in Melbourne would take less time. You do not have custody of the girl nor are you her legal guardian. Convincing Eleanor Furlong to insist her daughter comes back home would take very little effort on my part. You must understand, Scotty, as the Garrett patriarch my hands would be tied. I must act upon what I think is best for all involved. However, Kinsey and my grandson spending four days in Boston could change my perspective.”
Scott finished his brandy and stared at the empty snifter for an answer he didn't have. He saw no other choice but to go to Boston to buy some time…four days worth.
“I will need to inquire if there are rooms available here for another evening.”
“I never relinquished the rooms with the gentleman at the front desk, Scotty.”
“I will need to send Murdoch a telegram explaining what has happened.”
“I already took the liberty of sending your father a telegram. Of course, I didn’t go into all the details of your delayed return.”
Silence.
“Am I that much of a foregone conclusion, Sir?”
“You are my grandson who was my life for twenty-four years. I know you would make the right decision.”
Scott quietly opened the door of his cousin’s room to find her sound asleep on the bed with her head resting on the traveling valise. He smiled to see the champagne had indeed taken affect. Gently replacing the valise with a pillow, Scott removed his little cousin’s shoes and covered her with a blanket. He then took up residence in the room’s wing backed chair to be present in the event Kinsey woke up confused why they weren’t on a train.
Sleep wasn’t an option tonight.
He needed time to think.
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