19. Chapter 19 #2
Muriel offered a tight smile as her only response. Her eyes flashed, though, reassuring Zane that Constance wasn't succeeding in cowing her. Constance was succeeding in stoking his ire, however.
Zane pasted on a bland expression as he surreptitiously twisted his arm to try to break Constance's hold.
Unfortunately, the woman proved as hard to shake as an attached ivy vine.
What was her game? He'd never given her any reason to think he had an interest in courting her.
Just because she was Wilhemina's friend and therefore made an easy fourth when Max invited Zane out didn't mean she had any claim on him.
Did she suddenly feel possessive because Muriel was from outside their set?
"Have fun at the skating rink, Max." Zane shot him a pleading glance followed by a darting look to his arm where Constance's hand rested. "Stop by the house later tonight for a game of billiards."
"You got it." Max winked then took Constance's other arm. "Come on, Constance. Willie and the others are waiting on us."
Finally, the woman's fingers loosened their grip.
But just as her hand slid free of Zane's coat sleeve, another player entered the scene.
A freckle-faced boy of about nine or ten ran toward them, his face split in a wide grin.
His trousers were rolled to just below his knees, and his legs were coated with wet sand.
He waved an energetic arm above his head.
"Muriel! Muriel!"
A smile of equal width blossomed on Muriel's face as she turned to greet the youngster. "Fletcher!" She pulled her hand free of Zane's hold and jogged a few steps to meet her nephew, her arms spread wide.
The boy didn't hesitate. He flung himself into her arms, dislodging her shawl. Not that she cared. Muriel's sweet laughter filled the air as she hugged him tight and lifted him straight off the ground, heedless of the wet sand rubbing off on her aquamarine dress.
"Ah, Fletcher, but I've missed ye, me wee lad."
Zane's chest warmed at the exuberant display of affection, something that had been sadly lacking from his family for years.
Except for the occasional half hugs from Grandpa Clem, his life had been rather sterile.
How he longed for what the Quinns had. Open affection, demonstrative love, fierce dedication to each other instead of polite tepidness.
"Well, now we know why she's so reluctant to talk, don't we?" Constance's caustic tone scraped Zane's nerves raw. "Does your mother know you're stepping out with a common Irish tart?"
Zane jerked his face toward Constance, his glare so hot she stepped back. "There's nothing common about Miss Quinn. She's the most exceptional woman I've ever met, and anyone who dares besmirch her reputation with unfounded rumors will earn my scorn."
Constance's eyes widened for a heartbeat before they hardened. "Enjoy your summer fling with the help, Zane. Come see me when you're ready to grow up and marry a woman of standing."
"You dishonor us both with such talk," Zane said through a tight jaw. "I think it's time you rejoin Wilhemina and the others."
Constance stormed off. Zane turned to Max, who looked as shocked as he by Constance's vitriol.
"Sorry, Zane. I never meant to cause a scene. Wilhemina said something about Constance being under a lot of pressure to make a good match this summer. She must have thought she could bring you up to scratch."
Zane blew out a sigh. "You know I've never thought of her in that way." Even less now that he'd had a glimpse into her unkind spirit. His gaze drifted back to Muriel, a woman patiently exclaiming over a boy's pocketful of treasures, and he smiled.
Muriel turned a questioning glance over her shoulder then shifted her attention momentarily to Constance's retreating back. She retrieved her fallen shawl and brushed the sand from its fringe before draping it over her arm.
"Fletcher, would ye like to meet Mr. Erickson?"
The boy stuffed his shells and other miscellaneous items into his pocket and straightened his posture as he gave Zane a rather thorough inspection. "This yer fella?"
Zane tipped his hat to the boy. "I'd like to be." He strode forward a few steps and extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Fletcher."
"Before I shake yer hand, there's somethin' I gotta ask."
Zane lowered his hand and nodded, his stomach only clenching a little at the boy's piecing gaze. "Go ahead."
"You gonna make Muriel forget her family? I've worked around this place long enough to know the fancy don't take to associatin' with our kind." He jerked his chin in the direction of where Constance had joined the others in front of the bandstand.
"Fletcher!" Muriel took the boy by the shoulder. "That's not proper, now."
"It's all right," Zane said. "I’m happy to answer.
" He hunkered down in front of the boy. "If your aunt does me the honor of becoming my wife one day, you and your entire family will be welcome in our home anytime.
If I'm honest, I'm rather hoping to be welcome in your home as well.
I can tell you are all very close. That's the kind of family I want.
I'm hoping to learn a thing or two from the Quinns. "
Fletcher twisted to quirk a sideways grin at Muriel. "I think he'll do."
She smiled at her nephew then turned her warm gaze on Zane, making his chest grow heavy with longing. "Aye. I think he'll do, too."