AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I’m not a sister!’ she screeched, recoiling at the thought of such a close relationship with Ethan, and hugely put out by his casual acceptance of what to her had been a monumental blow.
‘I meant a metaphorical sister,’ he said, motioning her to leave her wet canvas slip-ons beside his boat shoes on the mat, and leading her into a huge white room with polished wood floors and a wall of windows looking out across the water.
She followed him absently into the white open-plan kitchen, frowning over exactly what their relationship could be labelled, realising it didn’t fit into any convenient box.
‘I’d be…well, the granddaughter of your uncle by marriage, so no relation at all, really. And, anyway, I’m sure it’s all nonsense! The point you seem to be missing is—Peter has already put me in his will. Aren’t you upset? God knows what Ethan is thinking now!’ she finished in a tragic burst.
‘So rather than stay and ask him, you elope with me. Good strategy,’ said Dylan, handing her a chilled bottle of Belgian beer from the double-doored refrigerator.
‘We didn’t elope,’ she said, unscrewing the top of the beer and feeling the foaming icy brew numb the slight soreness at the back of her throat.
‘So you won’t marry me and make me rich. Sigh!’
‘I thought you were already rich,’ she said.
‘I’m not very good at handling money,’ he admitted. ‘I’m like Dad in that respect—easy come easy go. But, like him, I always seem to bounce back. Well, if not you, I’ll obviously have to marry some other rich woman, preferably someone who is a whiz at finances and snooty enough to keep me on the straight and narrow. Now, who do I know who can fit the bill?’ he asked with an incorrigible grin. He finished half his beer in a single draught and opened the fridge again.
‘Hey, Goldilocks—want to snoop around and try out Papa Bear’s bed? I’m not one for porridge but this caviare looks good and there’s several sorts of dips and spreads. I’m going to make up some canapés to put a lining on my stomach for the return trip…’
There spoke the difference in their upbringing and status, thought Emily in wry amusement as she wandered away—she would have made up some crackers, to Dylan they were canapés.
The rest of the house was as large and as beautifully laid out as the living areas, the furnishings classic and simple, the white walls soaring high to timbered ceilings with open beams, and slivered skylights punched in at odd angles to add to the total impression of airy lightness. There were two luxurious, white marble full bathrooms, and an en suite adjoining the bedroom that obviously belonged to the master, because there was a large vase of marmalade-orange roses on the bureau under the window and out through the slatted wooden blinds she saw an enchanting miniature rose garden, formally laid out with low box hedges, paved paths and a sleek wooden bench facing a small classical fountain.
She did sit on the side of Ethan’s bed, although she didn’t quite dare to lie down, and hugged his pillow to her breast, snuggling her nose into its crisp white pure cotton cover and catching just the tiniest whiff of his scent. Would she ever get to come back here again? Perhaps she was making a mountain out of a molehill, as Dylan implied. Or would this latest deception be the last straw as far as Ethan was concerned—representing the dull ring of an unsound relationship?
Before she could start bawling again she took her half empty bottle of rapidly warming beer back out to the lounge where Dylan was lying on the couch watching cable sports on the large flatscreen television mounted on the wall, drinking beer and munching his way through a plate of canapés.
‘Dylan, don’t you think we should be going?’ she said, frowning at the greying seas out in the bay. How long had she been mooning in the bedroom? ‘It’s totally clouded over now, and the waves are beginning to get up.’
But Dylan had frozen with a caviare cracker halfway to his mouth. ‘Uh-oh.’
‘What’s the matter?’ she said, pouring the rest of her beer down the sink. ‘Bad fish?’
He hit the off button on the remote control and sat up, tilting his head in a listening attitude.
‘What uh-oh?’ she said, crossing over towards him, and then she heard it too. She looked out the window at the sky, empty of everything but clouds and the occasional diving sea-bird, but she could definitely hear a helicopter. ‘Dylan, what uh-oh?’
She went to peer nervously out another window. ‘That’s not what I think it is, is it? I mean, plenty of people on Waiheke have helicopters, don’t they?’
‘Sure, dozens,’ said Dylan unconvincingly, quickly gathering up his debris.
‘And there’s an airfield, isn’t there? Maybe it’s a commercial chopper—or a rescue helicopter!’ she said brightly.
‘That would work for me,’ muttered Dylan as he whipped open the cupboard under the sink and stuffed his rubbish into the kitchen bin.
‘Ethan’s helicopter wasn’t at Peter’s—how could it be him?’ she panicked.
‘There are such things as telephones, you know,’ said Dylan, and then looked so innocent that a light bulb exploded in her head.
‘You phoned him!’
‘No, I didn’t!’
She remembered him doing something furtive on the way over and now realised what it was. ‘Then you sent him a text from the boat!’ she accused and he looked sheepish.
‘Force of habit,’ he said weakly. ‘I usually buzz him to let him know when I’m calling in. You know, just in case I trip off the silent alarm or something…and so he or I don’t barge in on any—er—embarrassing scenes…’
She was going to accuse him of lying through his teeth, but she was diverted by the outrage of his last comment. ‘You mean when either of you bring women here!’
