Breakfast was already on display by the time I entered the main dining room, so I took my usual seat at the head of the cherry dining table crafted to seat twelve. Before me was a large bowl of scrambled eggs, a platter of muffins and biscuits, including a tray leaden with OJ, strips of turkey bacon, and sausage patties. With a smile of satisfaction I poured orange juice into a crystal glass and took an appreciative sip. Mrs. Trentley entered the room as I prepared my plate.
"Naomi, Mr. Knight is in the foyer, currently dripping on the floor..." She paused and winced. "Would now be a good time to show him in?"
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. T."
With another grimace, she retreated from the room to reappear several moments later with a grinning, half-dressed Ethan Knight.
He looked young, but I sensed he was still older than me. He had perfect, bronze skin with dark (and still damp) brown hair that hung past his nose, which he took the time to expertly sweep from hazel eyes. And judging by his arrogant half-smile, I could tell that internally he was already enjoying some small, private victory. After all, he had trespassed on my property, swam in my pool, and was rewarded with breakfast at my table. For Ethan things could not have gone better than if we'd had sex, and he made little effort to hide this.
Silently, he handed back the towel that Mrs. Trentley had given him, responding with a gracious smile when she accepted it with a glare. Then she walked out, leaving us alone in the room. As my gaze drifted innocently across his form, there were several things about Ethan Knight I just couldn't help but notice.
For instance, he was wearing Adidas flip-flops with only a pair of swim trunks to cover him, which left his upper half scrumptiously exposed. And though he was not extremely well-defined or overly-muscular, there was still a hardness to his stomach and the rest of his body that demanded he be touched.
Nevertheless, I cleared my throat and resisted the urge.
"Naomi Elizabeth Noble," said Ethan, in a deep, honeyed tone that I knew kept the girls blushing.
"Hello old man," I remained sitting in my chair. "Sorry, I'm having trouble coming up with a middle name."
"It's Tyler. And I'm only twenty-three, sport." He took the seat opposite me at the table and began portioning eggs and bacon onto a plate.
"So, Ethan Tyler, what you were doing in my pool at eight o'clock in the morning?" I asked pleasantly. "I'll admit - trespassing's a pretty clever way of scoring breakfast with a stranger. Or going to jail."
"What can I say?" he replied, talking through a mouthful of food. "I'm a really friendly neighbor."
But I had the distinct feeling that Ethan was never "friendly" just for the sake of it. Guys like him never were.
"So. Where do you live then, 'neighbor'?"
"On Elridge. You should drop by sometime." As he smirked, I inhaled, smelling the remnants of last's night's rain on his skin. But more importantly, I also smelled the Wolf in him.
He was like me.
"I bet you don't even know how famous you are, do you?" he said suddenly. "I mean, you disappeared right after you were born - and nobody could say where you went. I have friends who swear up and down you don't even exist. But then, you show up, after how many years, like it's nothing. Like this place was always home for you..."
I tensed. "It is my home now. I belong here just as much as you."
"Yeah, but you're still covered in Human - you don't belong here yet." His smile was full of conceit.
His gaze was friendly but his eyes were hard. I was a new female in his territory - the tension was only to be expected.
I picked at my plate. "Nomads don't have to lay down roots to survive. Truth is, I've never spent more than two years in one place in my life. So if I'm good at anything, its adaptation."
"Sure, but that still doesn't say anything about why you'd show up now. Something had to bring you back, right?"
"After I turned eighteen back in January, I got this letter in the mail that had my father's will in it. That's when I found out he had died and that I had inherited everything. So, here I am."
"No offense, Naomi, but Jack passed away over a year ago. So how is it that you only just found out about his death in January?"
"Turns out, there are some people who were pretty determined to keep me from getting the manor. Here I am wondering why my father stopped writing all of a sudden, and then I find out that not only is he dead but that my mother started this private war with his lawyer. It's because of her that I didn't find out about my dad when I should've. Paris got in the way, made sure the will was released later than it should've been."
Ethan's sympathy appeared genuine. "Well, I'm really sorry that happened. I mean, who knows - maybe you would've gotten here sooner and we could've met in a more... conventional way."
I allowed a small chuckle. "Right."
"And? What else are you here to do, Naomi? Besides moving into the neighborhood overnight like a serial killer?"
"Oh I dunno, a little fishing maybe?"
Though we joked, there was still an underlying tautness about the conversation. Ethan was asking too many questions and I was giving too many answers. So I worked to keep the rest of the conversation centered on him instead, purposefully asking him questions to keep him from cross-examining me.
In the meantime I learned several interesting things about Ethan and his family. He had a younger brother named Eric, who was a little closer to my age, and lived in the guest house with him on their parent's property. Ethan also enjoyed sailing out at Piney Bluffs in his spare time, and though he didn't have a job, he did have his associate's in business. Turns out, continuing college wasn't big on his list of future plans, so now he was just doing some "floating" too.
In short, Ethan Knight was a good-looking bum still mooching off his wealthy parents, while spending his free time partying. And yet something had drawn him here this morning, and I knew it had nothing to do with flirting.
"Naomi, why are we still talking about me?" Ethan said, once we finished our meals. "I think it's time you started answering some questions too."
Before I could answer I was saved by Mrs. Trentley, who entered the dining room with a white folder in her hands.
"Naomi, you don't know the trouble I had to go through in getting this -"
Mrs. Trentley flushed when she saw Ethan, realizing that she had bitten her tongue too late. She had also unwittingly left the front of the folder in plain view. It had the Harbor Village Police Department logo stamped clearly across its front with the name "Jack Noble" scrawled in large, block letters. Quickly, she slipped the folder behind her back, but it was too late. Ethan had already seen it.
"Uh, thank you, Mrs. Trentley." I crossed the room and she handed me the folder, mouthing "sorry" before excusing herself.
"Well, it was really nice meeting you, but I should go." I turned back to the dining table, where Ethan was still sitting. "I'm sorry - this is kind of important."
"No worries." He rose from the table. "Thanks for breakfast. The eggs were really good."
"Oh, well, thanks for... swimming in my pool? Bye." I hurried from the room.
* * *
After breakfast, I went back to my room to study the documents from Mrs. Trentley. The report from the New Harbor Police Department appeared standard enough, with no information or details that I hadn't expected. It described, in brisk words, how Mr. and Mrs. Jack Noble had arrived together at the Challenger Stables on the afternoon of May 3rd. They rented their horses and rode until approximately 3:30 p.m., when Mr. Noble suddenly slumped over, and then fell from his horse. By the time Mrs. Noble reached her husband's side, he was deceased. The ambulance was called, the police questioned Mrs. Noble, she was released, and her husband's body was delivered to the hospital morgue. All in all, it was a neat little story with no loose threads to pluck.
I read through the report again, but found zero evidence to support my theory of foul play. Two emergency medical technicians had arrived on the scene, and neither of them had been able to find a pulse or revive him. It was as simple as that. The autopsy report was a duller, more convoluted read - four pages of medical terms which required more than just a high school degree to sift through. But I still managed to grasp the gist of it. My father died of a heart attack, with no mention of foreign constituents or drugs in his system. The medical examiners concluded that Jack Noble died from some type of physical strain or exertion that had simply stopped his heart.
With a sigh, I gathered all of the useless papers together and deposited them in my nightstand, but a feeling still nagged at the back of my mind. I was missing something right there beneath my nose. It just wouldn't allow me to accept the idea that my father had gone horseback riding one day, just to have a heart attack and die. Yet there it was in black and white. So what the hell was going on?
* * *