Eyes Wide Open: The Blackstone Affair, Book 3, Page 3

  “Oh? What would that be? And it’s a little early, isn’t it?”

  “Sorry, Gab, but I couldn’t resist. You would be drooling if you could see this . . . oh . . . midcentury Mallerton looming not a foot from me. I could rub my hands all over it if I wanted to.”

  “Better not do that, Bree. Tell me,” she demanded, sounding a bit more like herself.

  “Well, it’s probably about seven feet by four, and gorgeous as hell. A family portrait of a blonde woman and her husband, and their two children, a boy and a girl. She’s wearing a pink gown and pearls that look like they belong in the Tower’s crown jewels collection. He looks like he’s in love with his wife. God, it’s beautiful.”

  “Hmmm, I can’t place it offhand. Can you ask if it’s all right to take a photo so I can see?”

  “I will, as soon as I meet someone I can ask.”

  “Can you make out his signature?”

  “Of course. It was the first thing I looked for. Bottom right, T. Mallerton in those distinctive block letters of his. It is, without a doubt, the real deal.”

  “Wow,” Gaby said, in a very unwowed voice.

  “Is everything okay with you? Last night was insane and I never saw you after that alarm went off. I wasn’t feeling well and Ethan was in high stress mode from some other stuff that happened.”

  “Like what?”

  “Umm, not really sure yet. Some weird message on my old phone came through and Ethan had it on him. The person sent a crazy text and the song from . . . ah . . . that video they made of me.”

  “Shit, are you serious?”

  “Yep. I am afraid so.” Just telling her made my stomach flip a little. I just didn’t want to deal with it right now. Avoidance had worked well in the past for me, and would again I was certain.

  “No wonder Ethan was stressed, Bree. Why aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I just want to believe that nobody is after me and that this is just some kind of blip on the radar that will go away when the election is over. Trust me, Ethan is all over it.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s good that someone is,” she grumbled. I decided right then that I wouldn’t share Ethan’s “proposal” of the previous night. I needed some coffee before I tackled anything of that magnitude. Better wait about telling her of Ethan’s ultimatum to move in with him too. Gaby had no trouble giving her opinion on things. And at the moment I didn’t need to hear the resulting noise it would bring.

  “Hey,” I asked her, “you didn’t answer my question. Are you okay? Last night was so messed up. I know we exchanged texts and no damage done, but still . . .”

  Silence.

  “Gabrielle?” I asked again, notching up the intensity by using her full name.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded flat and I knew she was holding back.

  “Where did you go? I wanted to introduce you to Ethan’s cousin, but that obviously never happened.”

  “I got distracted . . . and then that alarm went off and I had to get out just like everyone else. I waited outside on the street for a while until I got your text. Once I knew you were safe, I found a cab and went home. I just wanted a shower and a bed. It was a weird night.” She sounded more like herself, but I had to wonder if she was feeding me a line. “Benny called too. He saw it on the news and was worried about us. I talked to him for a long time.”

  “Okay . . . if you say so.” Gaby was stubborn and if she wasn’t in the mood to talk about stuff, then over the phone would not cut it. I’d have to get her in person.

  “I do want to meet Ethan’s cousin with the houseful of Mallertons someday, though. Maybe you can arrange it,” she said in what seemed like a peace offering.

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ll work on that with Ethan.”

  As soon as I said the words, I sensed I was not alone anymore. I turned and met the solemn face of the most beautiful little girl, her blue eyes reminding me so very much of another pair I knew well. “I gotta go, Gab. I’ll talk to you later and I’ll see what I can do about sending a pic of the painting. Love ya.”

  I hung up and slipped my phone back in my pocket. My serious companion just kept staring. I smiled at her. She smiled back, her long dark curls framing a face that I predicted would someday evolve into a great beauty. I couldn’t wait to see Ethan with her.

  “I’m Brynne.” I stuck out my hand. “What’s your name?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.

  “Zara.” She took my hand with hers and tugged. “I know who you are. Uncle Ethan loves you and drinks Mexican beers now because of you. I heard Mummy tell Daddy that.”

  I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “I know about you too, Zara. Ethan told me how much he admires your smarts in handling your brothers.”

  “He did?”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded as she looked up in wonder. “Where are we going?”

  Zara did not share that information, but I let her pull me along anyway, weaving through rooms and corridors until the lights of a warm kitchen became clear and what was most certainly the smell of heavenly coffee found my nose.

  “Mummy, I have her,” Zara announced as she pulled me into the room.

  “Ahh, I see that, love,” said the dark beauty who could only be Ethan’s sister, Hannah. She smiled at me as she answered her daughter, and I got an impression of Ethan for just a moment in her expression. There was a resemblance for sure, but she favored their father more, I thought, than Ethan did. Hannah had the same dark hair and coloring, but her eyes weren’t blue like Ethan’s eyes. Her eyes were gray. And she was petite, whereas Ethan was muscular and tall. Genetics were interesting in the way that they managed to mix the genes of male and female to create combinations that made perfect sense.

  “Welcome, Brynne. It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, moving forward, her eyes making a swift assessment. “Hannah Greymont, mum of your small captor there, and big sis of a man I never imagined would put me in this situation. There are plenty of surprises from him yet, I have realized.”

  I laughed at what she said, liking her honesty immediately as we shook hands warmly. “Same to you, Hannah. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a long time. Ethan speaks so affectionately of you. I met your father. He’s quite the charmer, as I am sure you know.”

  “Yes indeed. That would be my dad.” She handed me a mug of coffee and pointed toward the table where the cream and sugar were sitting. “E told me about your coffee habit.” She grinned and winked at Zara.

  “Thank you.” I breathed in a lungful of the delicious smell and gave my own wink to Zara. “Your daughter informed me that Ethan drinks Mexican beer now, and it’s entirely all my fault.”

  She opened her mouth in mock horror at Zara. “She did not!”

  Zara giggled.

  “My brother is nearly unrecognizable, Brynne. How on earth did you do it, and where is he, by the way?”

  I started doctoring my coffee with sugar and cream. “Well, I can say in all honesty that I have absolutely no idea. Ethan is quite . . . ah . . . single minded much of the time. Except for right now.” I laughed. “He’s pretty out of it, and I left him sleeping. Long drive last night and the evening ended . . . weirdly.” I looked over at Zara, who was soaking up every word of our conversation, and figured less said was better. Little ears can be very big, and I really did not know these people, despite how charming they were being toward me right now.

  “Yeah, I heard about that when he rang me.” She shrugged and shook her head. “Crazy people out there for sure. As for E’s single-mindedness, that’s nothing new. He’s always been that way. Bossy, stubborn—very annoying as a boy.”

  I just smiled and leaned against the counter opposite from where she appeared to be making bread. So, Hannah was a cook.

  “The house—it’s amazing. I was just on the phone to my roommate gushing about the Mallerton that’s hanging on your stairs.”

  “You found Sir Jeremy Greymont and his Georgina. Freddy’s ancestors . . . and you’re correct, M
allerton was the artist.”

  I nodded at her and took a sip of coffee. “I study art conservancy at University of London.”

  “I know. Ethan’s told us all about you,” Hannah paused before adding, “much to our surprise.”

  I tilted my head in question and accepted the challenge head-on. “Surprised that he told you about me?”

  She nodded slowly with a slight smirk. “Oh, yes. My brother has never talked about a girl, or ever brought anyone to my house for the weekend. This is all,” she gestured with her hands, “very different for Ethan.”

  “Hmmm, well it’s pretty different for me too. From the first time I met him, he was very difficult to turn down.” I took another sip. “Impossible, really.”

  She grinned at me. “Well, I’m glad for him, and glad to finally meet you, Brynne. I’m sensing there is more to come for you two?”

  Hannah worded it as a question, and I had to give her props for being so intuitive, but I absolutely was not going to share the crazy lunatic proposal of marriage Ethan had dropped on me during the night. No way. We still needed a good long discussion about that little suggestion. I shrugged instead. “Ethan is very . . . confident about what he wants. He’s never had any trouble telling me. I think I have more trouble hearing stuff than he has with saying it. Your brother can be as blunt as a wooden plank.”

  She laughed at my assessment. “I know that too. ‘Subtlety’ is not in his lexicon.”

  “You can say that again—” My eyes caught a picture on a cabinet shelf. A mother with two children—a girl and a boy. I wonder . . . I stepped closer and got a good long look at what I was sure was Ethan and Hannah with their young and beautiful mother, sitting on a stone wall looking almost posed, but possibly just serendipity in capturing a perfect moment. “This is the two of you with your mother?”

  “It is,” Hannah said softly. “Taken shortly before she was gone.”

  The moment felt odd to me. I was so curious as I soaked up the image of a four-year-old Ethan and the woman who had given him life, but I didn’t want to be rude and bring up sad memories. Still, my curiosity kept me from looking away. Mrs. Blackstone was unbelievably beautiful in an aristocratic way, elegant yet with warmth in her smile. Her hair was up and she had on a very fitted burgundy coat dress and tall black boots. She had amazing style for the period. I didn’t want to stop looking. In the photograph Ethan was leaning back against her body, snuggled into her arm, his hand on her lap. Hannah sat beside her on the other side, her head tilted in toward her mom’s shoulder. It was a sweet, loving moment captured in time. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t dare. To do so felt gauche and intrusive. “She was lovely. I can see a close resemblance between the two of you.” And Hannah did indeed look like the woman in the picture, but it was baby Ethan I wanted to stare at for a long, long time. His rounded, innocent face and little body in short pants and a white sweater made me want to wrap my arms around him.

  “Thank you. I love to hear people say that to me. I never get tired of hearing it.”

  “You both look like her,” I said, still staring at the photograph, wishing I could hold it in my hand but I was far too unsure to risk asking.

  “Our dad gave us each a copy of that picture.” Hannah looked at me questioningly. “You’ve never seen it before?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not out on display at his flat. I never saw it when I went to his office either time.”

  I got a pang when I mentioned his office; the last time I’d set foot in the place had not ended well for us. I’d gotten angry and left him, unwilling to listen to anything he had to say to me. Including “I love you.” I could remember the look on his stricken face from just outside the elevator as the doors closed between us. Painful, unpleasant memories. Ethan had not asked me to stop in since we’d gotten back together and I’d not offered to come by either. It was weird. Like the two of us being in his office was something a little too raw to sift through at the moment. Ah, well, maybe in time we’d get back to finding a comfort zone with the offices of Blackstone Security International, Ltd.

  “Hmmm . . . interesting . . . I wonder where it is.” Hannah turned back to her breadmaking project and lifted a cloth from a bowl.

  I sipped my coffee and continued to study the photograph.

  “Ethan didn’t speak for almost a year after her death. He just stopped talking one day. I think he was in shock when she didn’t come back . . . and it took him some time to accept it, even in his four-year-old mind,” Hannah said softly as she worked her dough.

  Wow. My poor Ethan. It hurt me just to hear this story. The sadness in Hannah’s words was pretty intense and I struggled with any kind of response that didn’t sound ignorant. I wish I knew how their mother had died.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for everyone. Ethan speaks so kindly of you and his father, though. He told me you all got closer and hung together once your mother passed.”

  Hannah nodded as she worked. “We did, it’s true.” She punched the ball of dough and covered the bowl with the cloth again to allow a second rising. “I think the suddenness was a good thing in the end. There was no long illness or sad dwellings on what could not be changed, and in time Ethan adjusted and began talking again. Our grandmother was wonderful.” She smiled sadly over at Zara. “She’s been gone about six years now.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed quiet and sipped my coffee, and hoped she would share more of the family history.

  “Car crash. Late at night. Mum and my aunt Rebecca were headed home from their grandfather’s funeral.” Hannah turned to Zara, who had gotten down from her chair and was heading out of the kitchen. “Don’t wake up Uncle Ethan, my love. He’s very tired.”

  “I won’t.” Zara answered her mother but looked at me and gave a little wave.

  My heart melted as I waved back and gave her a wink.

  “That is one adorable child you have. So independent. I love it.”

  “Thank you. She is a handful sometimes, and more curious than is good for her. I know she’ll be trying to get Ethan up out of bed and getting her sweets.”

  I laughed at the image of that scene. I hoped I got to witness it. “And you have two other children too—both boys, I heard. I don’t know how you manage everything.”

  She smiled as if the thought of her kids gave her a good feeling inside. I could tell Hannah was a great mom and I admired her for it.

  “I’m pretty lucky with my man and I enjoy having guests here. We meet a great deal of interesting people. Some we’d like to never meet again, but on the whole, it’s good,” she said jokingly. “And some days I don’t know how I’d manage without Freddy. He took the boys to volunteer at a charity breakfast for the Boy Scouts. They’ll be home in a bit, and you can meet the rest of the clan.”

  “You don’t have other guests staying here?”

  “Not this weekend. You and my brother are it. By the way, what can I get you for breakfast?”

  I came closer and peered at her breadmaking mission. “Oh, I’m fine with the coffee for now. I’ll wait for Ethan. In the meantime, could you use some help with the bread? I love to bake. It would be therapy for me after the insanity of last night.”

  She grinned and pushed a lock of hair away from her face with a bent wrist. “You’re hired, Brynne. Aprons are on the back of the pantry door and I want to hear all about the insanity of last night.”

  “That was easy,” I said as I went for the apron.

  “I’m not stupid. I’ve learned over the years that help is a good thing.” She pegged me with warm gray eyes. “And you never have to ask me twice.”

  3

  ♠ I don’t know what compelled me to open my eyes. Probably the breathing on my face smelling faintly of jam, but regardless, I now understand why horror movies with children in them are, without a doubt, the most terrifying films of all. There is nothing quite like a silent child staring at you while you�
�re sleeping, or even worse, to wake up to.

  Some questions come to mind pretty fuckin’ quick. Like how long have you been standing there watching over me like one of the ill-fated Grady sisters in The Shining?

  Scared the ever-living shit out of me for about two seconds.

  And then she smiled.

  “Uncle Ethan is awake!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as she ran to the door, flinging it wide open.

  “Zara! Shut the door behind you, please.” I sat up carefully, well aware I was nude and taking care to keep the blankets arranged. I was also alone in the bed, so I leaned around and looked toward the bathroom to try and catch sight of Brynne.

  No Brynne.

  “She’s downstairs talking to Mummy. They’re having coffees.” Zara poked her head back in.

  “Is that so?” I said, wondering why on earth I sleep like the dead now and how long my niece had been hovering over me. Creep factor? About a twelve.

  Zara nodded solemnly. “She came down ages ago.”

  “What do you think of her?”

  She ignored my question and tilted her head at me. “Did you get married, Uncle Ethan?”

  I am sure my eyes bulged out, because Zara gave me a thorough looking over as she waited for a response. “Um . . . no. Brynne is my girlfriend.”

  “Mummy and Daddy are married.”

  “Yes they are. I was at the wedding.” I smiled and wished I could get out of bed and into some clothes, but she had me good and truly trapped.

  “Why do you sleep naked?”

  “Excuse me? Zara, I need to get dressed—”

  “Daddy doesn’t sleep naked like you do. Brynne is nice. Will you take me to get an ice cream with Rags? He loves ice cream and I let him lick it and Mummy says that’s dirty but I let him anyway. Mummy said not to come in here, but I got tired of waiting for you to wake up. You’re the only person that’s still sleeping.”

  Unbelievable. A five-year-old held me captive in a bed where I could do nothing but listen, mesmerized by her litany of observations, opinions and requests, and praying for some way to escape. She gave me quite the disgusted look too with that last bit. Sort of along the lines of, “What in the hell is wrong with you, Uncle Ethan?” And really, I had to agree with her five-year-old logic too. A hell of a lot was wrong with me.