The Rules of the Red - 2nd Edition |✓|

Chapter Three, Part Three - If Looks Could Kill

Diane Sue Noble had grey hair swept up in a girlish ponytail. Her face was equally youthful, and devoid of the creases that usually plagued women her age. Right away, I saw that she had the same blue eyes as her late son, which was somehow reassuring and uncomfortable too.

She wore blue jeans with a white lace top and a grey knit cardigan that hung down to the knees. She stared at me for several seconds, wrapping her sweater tighter around her, as if for comfort or strength, before walking down the porch. Feeling clumsy, and a little embarrassed, I approached her and leaned my way awkwardly into the hug she offered. But as I accepted the embrace, I felt the majority of my discomfort fade. After all she was my grandmother – a hug was to be expected.

"I knew it was you – as soon as I looked out the window and saw. You're driving one of his cars..."

Realizing how macabre I must have made the situation, I cringed. "I'm sorry, I didn't think –"

"You don't have to apologize for reminding me of my son, Naomi. I'm just glad you're finally here."

"Me too," I replied with a hesitance I knew was impolite. Hastily, I covered my rudeness with a smile.

"Your grandfather's out, but I hope you'll stay long enough for him to come back. I think he's been looking forward to this just as much as me..." She took my arm and led me up the porch and into the house, where we stepped into a warm, friendly interior. The walls were painted in a rich shade of plum, and the floors were made of smooth, dark wood. And while the house was not as lavishly decorated or furnished as the manor, money was clearly evident in the plush surroundings of the home.

She steered me down a short hallway and into a living room, where we sat together on a comfortable brown couch of microfiber material. I scanned the walls and the mantle above the fire place, noting the candid moments of my father and grandparents captured over the years, and how they had each been lovingly framed. For all intents and purposes, they appeared to have been a generally happy family–tight-knit and close. The fact that none of these pictures included my mother didn't elude me.

"I've heard the rumors that you were in town, but I don't think I actually let myself fully believe it until now. How long have you been in Harbor, Naomi?"

"A couple of months–just long enough to get settled."

A maid entered the dining room, carefully balancing a tray leaden with china teacups and a matching teapot. She took the liberty of pouring us each a cupful of the warm liquid before retreating. I took a sip and winced at its bitter, pungent taste.

For a moment there was silence as Diane stared off into the distance, lost in a world that had existed long ago. I recognized that sadness and found myself mourning with her. The connection was real, but brief. I couldn't forget who she was and where we were. Paris and my grandfather had already established themselves as potential enemies. Would Diane do the same?

"I miss him too," I said. "Everyone I've met had only nice things to say about him. He was a good man, wasn't he?"

"The best." There was no pause in her answer. Her blue eyes were sharp and proud.

"Charles must be pretty proud of him. Was his son on the Leadership too?"

"As a matter of fact, he was." She lowered her tea.

"I'm only asking because he never mentioned anything about being an Elder in his letters – not that I was surprised when I found out."

Surprise colored her face. "Jack wrote to you?"

"He did – enough to tell me what our family is, but he never mentioned the Leadership. I found out about that from a friend, actually – Adelle Newport? She's nice."