Page 32 of Part of Your World

Grandpa Clem's eyes twinkled as he claimed the instrument. "I thought she might. A person with music in her soul needs an outlet. The way you talked about her singin', I knew she had more than just technical skill. She has the heart."

"Enthusiasm, too," Zane said with a chuckle. "She woke all the gulls with her first attempt."

"Did she, now?" Grandpa Clem stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, a grin stretching his weathered cheeks.

"She doesn't do things by half measures."

Grandpa Clem's expression morphed into something more serious as he met Zane's gaze. "A fact I thank the Lord for every day. You'd not still be among the livin' if that little lady lacked gumption."

A sobering thought, yet one that only served to deepen his appreciation for Miss Quinn. "She was actually interested in my architecture babble, too." He wagged his head, still amazed at how well the evening had gone. "She pointed out different buildings and asked questions." With her eyes, at least. Such expressive eyes. Changing like the sea. Adventurous. Playful. Shy. Bold.

Secretive.

Zane's euphoria dimmed a bit as he recalled the odd look that had crossed her face when she handed him that letter outside the academy. Her mouth had been smiling, but her eyes had been rife with apologies.

"There's something special about her, Grandpa. About the way I feel when I'm with her. I can't explain it. It just feels . . . right."

Grandpa Clem took a drag on his pipe then blew out a line of smoke in a long, slow exhale. "It works like that sometimes. A fella recognizing his mate the first time he sees her. 'Course sometimes a man is swayed by a pretty face and all the hot blood that starts pumpin' through him so that he thinks she's the right one, when she ain't. That's why the Good Lord gave man a head as well as a heart. Be sure you're usin' both."

"Yes, sir." He'd never been one to be carried away by emotion, but then he'd never met a girl who tempted him to throw caution to the wind, either.

He couldn't imagine Muriel Quinn being anything other than what she appeared. Kind, genuine, joyful. She had such zest for life and a heart for family. Reading the little bits she'd shared with him at the ice cream shop had made that clear.

So why the shuttered look when she'd given him the letter?

Reaching into his coat pocket, Zane fingered the envelope, a sudden craving for privacy hitting him.

"Think I'll turn in." Zane pushed away from the railing.

"'Night," Grandpa Clem said around the stem of his pipe.

Zane thumped the man's shoulder and headed toward the door.

"Hey, Zane?"

He turned. "Yeah?"

Grandpa Clem leaned forward in his rocker, his gaze pensive and penetrating. "Just because a woman is perfect for you, don't mean she's perfect. Best not expect her to be."

Chapter 15

Zane headed for the staircase that would take him to his room, but his mother swept through the entryway and intercepted him before he'd ascended past the third step.

"Not so fast, young man." How she managed to scold and tease at the same time was a mystery Zane doubted he'd ever solve. "Did you really think you could escape upstairs without giving your mother a report?"

Biting back a groan, Zane turned to face the matriarch of Clan Erickson. Not quite ready to fully capitulate, however, he held his ground on the third stair. "Spying on me from your sitting room again?" He raised a brow but couldn't manage to hold the affronted expression for more than a couple of seconds before a grin took its place.

She waved off the accusation with a sweep of her hand through the air. "It's a lovely room. The perfect place to enjoy a good book and a cup of tea in the evening."

"It also happens to have a window providing a view of the front porch."

"Does it?" Her eyebrows arched in mock innocence. "I hadn't noticed."

Zane rolled his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Thank you." She winked and sashayed closer. "You're a terrible escape artist."

"I don't know about that. I can outrun you."