"Hogsmeade would be too much for my old bones," she said. "You know how warm I keep it here, when it gets chilly. Still, Scotland is beautiful." She preferred her view out over the Ottery river, but she could see the appeal of snow.
"I have," Muriel answered George's question. "She's on the fundraising committee for the orphanage. Hasn't talked my ear off again, but she did ask after you. I'm fairly certain I've got her pegged, with the wanting you to buy the business out."
Muriel laughed when he mentioned having her for dinner, taking another sip from her glass to chase the amusement down her throat.
"Oh, my beautiful Gryffindor, subtle as a bludger to the head." She smiled, trailing a finger over the back of George's hand, where it rested against the seat cushion. "She hasn't come out and said that's what she wants. Everything is implied. You can't just invite her out for dinner out of the blue. That would give her the bargaining power. If you want to feel out the possibilities, though, I could certainly invite her to dinner, and you could be here. Or you could escort me to one of my charity functions. If you really are interested."
Her finger finished its absent exploration of the lines on the back of his hand, she glanced up at him, brow arched in curiosity.