Author's Note: So, this chapter is shorter than the others, but I think you'll understand why.
assantra: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much!
As always, I do hope you enjoy this chapter! ~lg
oOo
Will arrived in Ephraim mid-afternoon the following day. After hanging up the phone with Noelle, he went directly to the Secretary and explained the situation. His investigation was stalled out anyway, and he needed more data. A lot more data. Even as he walked into the restaurant attached to the B&B, the Secretary's words echoed in his head. I know this isn't much of a mission, but you're the best person we have for the job, Brandt. You're an analyst as well as an agent. If anyone's going to catch the people behind this, you will. He'd gone on to give Will a few days barring any new developments to take care of things "at home," and Will tiredly climbed onto a plane sometime in the wee hours of the morning.
Now, he watched Noelle wander through the tables at the restaurant. Ephraim had turned out in force to support two of their long-time residents. Will remembered Axel and Greta Wolff from his years as a kid, and it hurt to see her so sick. With the restaurant filled, Noelle flitted from one place to another, refilling tea glasses, answering questions, and smiling that tense smile that said she needed some time. There were several more hours before the restaurant closed and she could go home.
But Will saw more than that. She moved stiffly, as if bruised. And her right arm was in a sling. Every now and then, she rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache or stifled a yawn while refilling her pitcher with tea.
She turned after one of these refills and caught sight of him. The tense smile melted into a relieved smile, and she made her way toward him. "Thanks for coming."
"No problem." Will glanced around. "Busy day."
"Yeah." Noelle shrugged. "I'd offer you a table and early dinner, but. . . ." She motioned helplessly at the full restaurant. "Most of them just want coffee, dessert, and information. But it's been. . .crazy."
He nodded. "I understand."
She met his eyes, biting the inside of her lip hesitantly. "Look, I'd give you a room, but the B&B's closed for now. With Greta in the hospital and Axel with her, I just can't be a presence here twenty-four hours a day." She lowered her voice. "But—oh, God, this is awkward. But I have that spare room. I trust you, and. . . .Okay, more awkward than I thought."
Will laughed at that. "The spare room would be fine. I'll only be here for a couple nights."
Noelle nodded this time, but another patron came in before she could reply. She politely welcomed them and asked them to wait before returning to Will's side. "You have your key?"
"Uh. . .no." Will frowned. "It's in DC."
"Let me get these guys seated, and I'll give you mine."
Will watched as she escorted the newcomers to a recently emptied table, apologizing for the delays. Within ten minutes, she'd taken their orders and returned with her key. Will accepted it, waving away her awkward apology for being so busy, and let her get back to work. He drove to the beach house, taking thought to park out of the way so Noelle could get in her typical spot in the driveway.
The house looked so different. With the outside repainted and the obvious signs of habitation, it went from a dingy, dilapidated mess to a quaint bungalow with charm. Noelle had even cleared out the flowerbeds in the front and planted small bundles of flowers. She had pots all over the front porch, some with seedlings and others with mature plants. Will took a moment to read the labels, not in the least surprised to see most of the pots were herbs of some sort. Oregano, basil, thyme, sage, cilantro, mint, rosemary, lavender. . .Any herbalist would have a field day on this front porch.
Inside, the differences were even more noticeable. The smell of paint had faded, leaving behind a scent that Will would always associate with Noelle. Hints of coffee, vanilla, and the beach permeated the house. An antique bookshelf filled one wall, his grandmother's books displayed in various arrangements with little knickknacks filling the empty spots. A blue ruffled scarf halfway finished lay on the coffee table next to a book. The living room had end tables now, complete with lamps, hooks for coats, a couple pairs of shoes next to the door, and a blanket haphazardly thrown onto the couch. In the kitchen, Noelle had left a few dishes for later, and the different canisters and decorations punctuated the counter tops.
Shaking his head at the differences, Will moseyed into the guest room. It had an iron-framed bed similar to the master bedroom, a hand-made quilt in shades of tan and brown, and mismatched pillows. Noelle had added an old-fashioned rocking chair to the room, along with sheer curtains, blinds, a rag rug, worn wooden dresser, and a few pictures. The trunks that had served as end tables in the living room now filled in as bedside tables.
Will set his bag on the bed, smiling at the change, and pulled out fresh clothes. He'd been wearing the same outfit for over twenty-four hours, having left the office for the airport, and needed a shower and shave. In the bathroom, he found the beachy, light theme had carried through. The vintage claw-foot bathtub had been thoroughly cleaned, and Noelle had painted the walls sage green. Tall wainscoting was the same linen color as the majority of the house, and dark accessories accented everything.
Leaving the bathroom, he couldn't help peeking into her room. He didn't enter but managed to see the transformation. Gray walls, dark wood furniture, and copper accents perfectly suited Noelle. Pulling the door closed, Will returned to the bathroom and climbed into the tub with its handheld shower to wash the grime of the last day off his body.
By the time Noelle returned, he had managed to settle in and make a quick run to the grocery store. Steaks sizzled on the grill, and he'd slid a pan of potatoes into the oven. Noelle's van crunched on the gravel drive as she pulled up, and Will met her in the back door of her home.
She blinked as she smelled dinner. "Wow! You didn't have to cook."
"You gave me a place to stay. It's the least I could do." He watched as she disdainfully took off the sling and winced as she straightened her elbow. "Should you be taking that thing off?"
"Doctor said it's only bruised." She gingerly rubbed the joint. "The swelling's going down, but he wants me using the sling for the rest of the week."
Will accepted that with a nod. "Have you heard from Axel?"
Noelle sighed. "Greta's still unconscious. They're saying now that she also had a stroke."
He winced at that. "Any idea on her prognosis?"
"No." Noelle's voice was soft. She jabbed a thumb down the hall. "I'm gonna. . .clean up."
Will smiled. "I'll be out here."
He watched her wearily walk down the hallway and then returned to the back porch to turn the steaks on the grill. He'd found his grandmother's journal, set aside so it wouldn't get mixed in with the other books, and had been sitting with it in his hands when Noelle pulled up. Part of him couldn't wait to get into it and find out what secrets it contained. I really am a spy at heart. But another part of him hesitated. Did he really want to know his family's secrets? Was the reason his grandfather disowned him in here? Would it change anything?
While he could be decisive in the field, Will found himself more than a little hesitant in his personal life. He controlled it by trying to plot out every eventuality in the field, but he hated the sensation of being out of control. And relationships were inherently unpredictable.
Noelle reappeared just after he pulled the steaks from the grill, looking a bit better now that she'd had a few moments to herself. She looked over the baked potatoes with cheese, salad, and steaks, shaking her head. "Wow. A man that can cook."
Will frowned at her, making sure to smirk just a touch so she knew he wasn't really upset. "There's more of us than you think."
"Really?" Her eyes sparkled. "You're the first I've met."
Given your experiences with men, I'm not surprised. Will bit down on the comment and handed her a plate. "Just for that, you're doing dishes."
The lighthearted banter continued as they loaded their plates and settled at the table on the back patio. The front porch got a lot of afternoon sun, perfect for growing herbs and vegetables. The back patio stayed shaded and cool thanks to the breeze coming off the lake.
Noelle waited until they'd taken a few bites to nod at the journal he'd left on the table. "I see you found it."
Will eyed the book. "Yeah. I haven't read it."
"Why not?"
"Because." He didn't have a better answer. But she seemed to understand and dropped the subject.
They enjoyed a quiet evening, neither one feeling like doing much talking. Will's mind constantly reviewed the case he'd left in DC, trying to find something to explain the uneasy feeling he'd had since seeing Agent Hanigan's body. Based on her expression, Noelle worried for Greta and really needed to get some rest.
Seeing the weariness on her face, Will checked his watch and decided it was time for him to get some sleep, too. He stood and, after bidding her goodnight, slipped inside to the guest room. Noelle stayed on the porch for a while yet, but he was still awake when she locked up the house and retired.
Will rolled onto his back and frowned at the ceiling. How would Noelle respond if she knew that he'd been tense since arriving, like someone was watching them, and now slept with a gun under his pillow?
oOo
Noelle made breakfast the next morning and headed off to work while Will prepared for a drive to the hospital. He'd decided to visit Axel and Greta, show his support, and then figure out what to do about his grandmother's journal. That little book caused such hesitation in him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to read it just yet.
He found Axel still at his wife's bedside, weary and in need of a friendly face. He straightened when he saw Will, standing and quietly welcoming him.
Will looked at the woman in the bed. "How is she?"
Axel's face broke, and Will suddenly knew. The doctors didn't expect Greta to survive. He put a hand on the elderly man's shoulder as Axel started talking. "She didn't tell me. She's been having problems with her heart for years, but she didn't tell me it had gotten bad."
Will listened while Axel talked fondly of his wife, smiling in the right places. He couldn't help the wave of longing that rose up when Axel shared humorous stories from when the two of them had raised their kids. He wanted that one day, but he'd sacrificed it for the IMF. No matter how he might feel drawn to a simpler life in Wisconsin, he just couldn't walk away from the agency that gave him a purpose.
Leaving the hospital, Will couldn't help thinking about his own grandparents. Did they love each other as much as Greta and Axel obviously had? Did they have their regrets? Was Will one of them?
Those questions spurred him to grab the journal that Noelle had moved from the back deck to the coffee table. A rainstorm had moved into the area while Will had been out, so he made a cup of tea and settled on the couch to read. The first several entries were pretty mundane as his grandmother detailed the idyllic life she'd had in 1960. Then, things changed.
I met the most wonderful man today. His name is Robert Blake, and his family owns the property next to ours. They're here for the summer: Mr. Blake and his parents. While he's only two years older than I, he is unmarried and happy.
I cannot help being drawn to him. His smile and the way he talks to me, not over me, is just such a relief. He met the boys today, as well, and they fell in love with him. I watched from the sidelines as they threw a baseball back and forth, and Mr. Blake never once acted as if it were a burden.
If only Joseph were that way with his sons. And with me.
Will frowned. "Robert Blake," he murmured, his eyes narrowing. "Robert Blake? Why do I know that name?"
The connection to Noelle was obvious. She'd grown up in this town and was a Blake. But that didn't mean Robert Blake. Did it?
Standing briskly and walking into the guest room, Will pulled out his laptop and logged into the secure IMF server. Typing in the year and name, he waited while the computer did its work. When the results came up on the screen, he simply stared at the screen as he processed what this meant.
Robert Edward Blake, father of Jonathan Kenneth Blake, father of Francesca Noelle Blake. Noelle's grandfather and Will's grandmother had known each other.
oOo
Noelle left the restaurant that day thoroughly exhausted. Axel had supported her decision to close down the B&B portion of the business temporarily while she found her footing. And she was grateful. The news on Greta wasn't good, but she decided to keep pulling for her friend. She needed Greta there.
Meanwhile, she had Will. He could only stay one more night, at the most, but she was thankful he'd made the trip to see her. Just having him there gave her the stability she needed to get through this. They hadn't talked much last night, both of them tired and needing the quiet. But just knowing he sat next to her helped her nerves more than he understood. Having him sleeping in the next room had been different, exciting and forbidden and all-too-enticing. She'd never had a male friend—whether romantic or not—with whom she felt completely safe before Will, so she resisted anything that might be romantic on the chance it was just her own desires. She cared for Will, yes. But she cared enough to make sure she didn't hurt him.
Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she found him in the kitchen this time, washing a few dishes as dinner sat on the stove. Today, he'd raided her fridge and made some sort of pasta. He looked at her, his eyes moving before his head in that strange yet familiar way of his, and he reached for a towel. He wore a white button-down shirt today, the sleeves rolled to the elbows in a way that made him look as if he'd been working all day at the office. And, when he moved to the door of the kitchen, he stood loosely, almost as if he expected trouble.
Noelle frowned. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just. . . ." He leaned one shoulder on the door, unconsciously blocking her access to the kitchen. "I read my grandmother's journal today."
Her interest peaked right away. She'd been dying to know what it said but she'd resisted the urge to read it. "And?" She waited as he left the kitchen completely before helping herself to the tea in the fridge. When she turned around, Will stood in the living room. He'd shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and had his head down. "Will?"
He looked at her out of the tops of his eyes again. "And she knew your grandfather."
Noelle blinked. "She did? Because, as far as I remember, my family couldn't stand the Hayes. Present company excluded, of course. I never knew why, but it went back as far as I could remember."
Will glanced around the room, his discomfort becoming more and more obvious as time went on. "Because, based on what I read, my grandmother didn't just know your grandfather. She fell in love with him."
Noelle physically jerked at that, jarring her bruised elbow and spilling a few drops of tea on the counter. "Wait. What?"
Will shrugged. "I don't know yet because I haven't gotten that far into the journal. But I think our grandparents had an affair."
oOo
The rock that had settled into Noelle's chest at Will's announcement only grew heavier as the evening progressed. He served dinner—a wonderful pasta with tomatoes, sausage, and asparagus mixed in—while they read his grandmother's journal. She had to agree with him about his suspicions, and she knew both of them had the same thought. What if we're related? This would explain why the Blakes and the Hayes didn't mix. Too much bad blood, especially if Will's grandmother had my grandfather's baby. Back in the early sixties, that just didn't happen. Not openly, like the journal seemed to portray.
There was still a lot of journal left to read, but Noelle had heard enough and retired not long after their lengthy discussion of the events surrounding the Blake-Hayes rift and how it had become a huge secret between the families. She had another long day ahead of her, and she needed rest. But her mind refused to shut down.
What if she was related to Will? If his mother was her grandfather's daughter, that would make them cousins. First cousins, actually. It meant that his mother was her aunt. How did she feel about that? And why would it cause such disappointment? She and Will were friends—and possibly family. So why was she suddenly angry and sick at the thought of their respective grandparents being adults and making adult mistakes?
Travis. She sighed and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. As the woman who'd been cheated on multiple times, she had sympathy for both Will's grandmother and his grandfather. She understood the woman wishing her husband would just love her for who she was, but she also felt the pain of not being enough for her spouse. It was a very weird position to find herself in, and it kept her awake most of the night.
She knew Will didn't sleep all that much, either. She'd heard him come in about an hour after she laid down, his steps almost completely silent as he slipped into his room and went to bed. To his credit, he didn't treat her any different after they made the discovery, and she found herself grateful they hadn't taken their relationship any further than friendship. She'd heard and read sordid stories like this before but never once believed she'd find herself in such a cliché. But clichés are cliché for a reason. Because they really do happen that often.
Noelle had just finished making breakfast when Will's phone rang. She heard him answer it in the bedroom and sensed the change. His voice dropped slightly, and he came out of the room with an apologetic look on his face. She met his eyes. "You're heading back."
"Yeah. I was in the middle of a stalled investigation that's not stalled anymore." He glanced around before his gaze settled on her. "Look, Noelle, as far as I'm concerned, this doesn't change anything. You're still my friend, and. . . ."
She raised a hand. "Right now, I'm kind of grateful for that." She waited for a short moment. "When do you leave?"
"My plane leaves in three hours. I have time for breakfast and to get to the airport."
Noelle didn't comment on the fact that it would take two hours just to get through check-in and security. How did he have time to eat breakfast with her? It didn't make sense. Instead, she served their leftover steak from the night he'd arrived, eggs, hashbrowns, and coffee. Then, she walked him to the car and waved as he drove away.
Inside, she realized he'd left the journal behind and thought about his parting words. Go ahead and read it if you want. If we're related, it's about your family, too. Noelle held the journal in her hands, the ribbon marking where they'd left off the previous evening, and sighed. It might be about her family, but it was still his. And she didn't feel right even opening it until he could get back to finish it.
In the meantime, she'd just have to deal with the questions.
oOo
Travis's phone rang nearly a week after his visit to Noelle's. He snatched it up. "Yeah?"
"Will Brandt was here."
"Was here?"
"He left suddenly yesterday morning."
"And you're just now telling me this?" Travis tried to tamp down his anger. The man on the other end of the phone deserved to be punished for not calling in time for him to get to get to Ephraim and complete his assignment.
"I didn't know until now. He apparently arrived the day after Greta Wolff's heart attack."
"Why didn't you know?"
"One of my friends is in the hospital, and I have a job to do. One that people expect." The man sighed. "And he kept it quiet. He didn't stay at the bed and breakfast, and Noelle never mentioned him at work."
Travis sighed. "Okay. Where'd he go, then?"
"That's the thing. My guy at the airport said he bypassed security, hopped on a charter plane, and left. That's how I found out."
Travis hung up the phone without commenting.
So, William Brandt had come back to Ephraim to see Noelle. Why? Certainly not because she'd called him about Travis's little visit last Saturday. That prompted her to call Brandt, but the man didn't hop on a plane until Greta Wolff collapsed.
A smile formed on Travis's lips as he made the connections. Maybe Noelle was telling the truth, and she wasn't sleeping with Brandt. It didn't matter because Travis now knew how to get him to come to Ephraim.
Two days later, Greta Wolff died.
~TBC
