Watching Amanda Read Online Free Page B

had New York plates. Which meant it wasn’t anyone Ethan wanted to see.
    â€œYou’re Ethan Black?” the guy asked, rubbing his hands together.
    â€œWho wants to know?”
    He gestured to the messenger bag slung across his navy blue down jacket. Stitched in black script across the flap of the bag was the name of his company.
    â€œThe law firm of Harris, Pinker and Swift,” said the guy.
    Three years ago, a messenger delivering a lawsuit or subpoena was as commonplace to Ethan as breathing. Not anymore.
    Man, whatever this is, I don’t want to know , he thought. Ethan wanted to run his miles and fix Nick’s houseful of broken appliances and be left the hell alone. The last thing he wanted—the very last thing—was anyone from New York City coming to call.
    â€œGeorge Harris asked me to personally deliver this package to you,” the messenger said, opening his bag and pulling out a plain manila envelope. “He said to tell you it concerned William Sedgwick.”
    William Sedgwick? The name changed everything.
    Ethan nodded and took the package, which he set on the wood table in front of the fireplace. Then he poured some coffee into a thermos, added milk and sugar, and handed it to the messenger, who gave him a surprised thanks. Ethan then pulled a fifty from his wallet and tucked it into the messenger’s still-cold hands, and told him to scram before he developed frostbite.
    From the window, Ethan watched the SUV make its way slowly up the half-mile-long drive and then turn onto the main road. When the car disappeared from view, Ethan eyed the package on the table. It was a simple manila envelope with Ethan’s name and address handwritten across the front.
    What could this be about? It had been three years since Ethan had contact with William. And they’d met only once. What could the man want with him now?
    He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t met William Sedgwick on that fateful evening three years ago.
    You know what would have happened , he reminded himself.
    Ethan threw another piece of wood in the coal stove, stoked the fire in the massive stone fireplace, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, fixed the Marrows’ toaster, watched the fresh powdery snow start to swirl down and around in the wind outside, and even washed his breakfast dishes, all in the name of procrastinating. He didn’t want to open that envelope. Not yet.
    â€œOne day, Ethan Black,” William Sedgwick had said, “I might just call in that favor you promised me ... ”
    The day must have come. Yet what could a man of William Sedgwick’s wealth and power possibly need from Ethan? William had known that Ethan had completely given up his old life, knew that he’d taken his advice and built himself the cabin up here. Ethan had once sent him a postcard from the general store in town.
    Curiosity got the better of Ethan. He slit open the envelope and peered inside. Two letters and two five-by-seven photographs were the entire contents. One letter was on the lawyer’s stationery; the other was from William Sedgwick, handwritten in black ink.

    Dear Ethan,
    Once you told me that if I ever needed a favor, I should just say the word. I’m saying it. I have complete faith that you will do what I am asking of you, which is a great comfort to me.
    If you’re reading this, I have passed on ...

    â€œDamn,” Ethan said, shaking his head.
    He slid the letter back into the envelope and placed it gently on the table.
    He’d read enough for the moment.
    Â 
    â€œWhat do you mean you’re not going to the reading of the will?” Jenny Coles asked, pouring two cups of tea from the pot on the coffee table.
    â€œI mean I’m not going,” Amanda repeated. She leaned back against the sofa in her small living room and wrapped her hands around the warm mug, breathing in the comforting aroma of Irish Breakfast tea.
    Jenny put her feet up on the