Eltingville Characters Novels & Stories

Charity says, turning to face me once more, “but we won’t know more until Elle fills us in on the details.” Settling in my seat, I watch as we pass the houses, while pack members wander around chatting happily. Within minutes, Matt is parking in front of the house, the three of us piling out and into the house. Damon and a middle-aged man sitting in front of the TV watching some movie, their laughs filling the house. “Charity and Nora,” Elle’s voice comes from the doorway of her office, a serious expression on her face. “Thank you, Matt.” She says, deterring his plan to follow us.

"That wasn't my fault. Lady Casterly smothered her entire body in some overripe eau de cologne. More than one person succumbed to a coughing fit when they found themselves within breathing distance of her. Lord Evanston even knocked over a tray of ratafia when he started coughing." That particular moment had made her laugh and cough all the harder. Evanston was a handsome viscount and quite amusing. He'd been teasing her about Lady Casterly's overpowering scent before they both succumbed to it. Her mother made a little sound of skepticism, and Ella closed her book. If she was to win this argument, she would need to be fully focused. Violet Humphrey was not an easy opponent. "Mother, please,

Ellie gave her a stunning smile and left the room. "Bitch!" Ellie hissed to the portraits on the walls as she stalked down the hallway and back to the kitchen. "What an absolute bitch!" She felt like kicking something, or someone, preferably Charlotte Ganderton's arse. Well, she would see if her man would like to go back to his first shag. It would be the last thing he ever did if he so much as glanced at that harridan.

Arielle rested against her lap, Maeve slept soundly on her shoulder, and Eli gazed out the window at the clear blue sky. “Mommy,” Eli asked softly, “why did that Mister look like me?” Elara’s lips trembled before she smiled faintly — a smile full of secrets and sorrow. “Because sometimes, Eli,” she whispered, brushing his hair gently, “the world has a strange way of showing us our past.”

’ ‘All the time these two were plotting, all the time they were twisting the neck of Rick Marconi behind my back, for example. “Oh, that happy event took place in a different universe,” I said. “I didn’t see it coming. I can’t leave the house, remember. But yeah, it made my day. Until Gianni signaled he was going to break my neck one way or another.” “Indeed. I am buying pop corn, rabbit, carry on,” Elky said, voice sour. “Why not? Everyone else takes a turn. Might as well be you. Poor old Elky Jennings—a punchbag in expensive suit. Let’s all trot over his throat and toss a couple of wisecracks behind his back. He won’t notice. Elky never does. Hell, this house is a bloody charity for retire

There was a plain meal set out in front of her, warm and filling—roasted vegetables, fresh bread, Elara's famous stew, but nobody knew because she never opened her door. Elias and his mother sat rigidly at first, still strangers to the room, still strangers to Adrian's silence. But by the time they had dinner, all that tension melted away. Elias spoke of their childhood in hushed terms, of their history. His mother spoke of what was happening in the Lancaster house, how it had felt so empty without Adrian's laughter echoing off walls. For a second, Elara retreated to retrieve a pie she'd spent the day baking. Upon her return, she could see Adrian lying back in his chair, laughing—laughing, a

**Elara Falls Ill** The once-bustling den of the pack, a place of laughter and camaraderie, had transformed into a sanctuary of despair, shrouded in a somber stillness that was almost palpable. In the heart of this space, nestled among the softest of grasses and verdant leaves, lay Elara, the pack's esteemed healer—her presence a calming beacon now muted by the grasp of illness. A heavy silence enveloped the den, punctuated only by her shallow, labored breaths and the anxious shuffling of her companions, Caden and Lily, who were desperately trying to provide solace during this harrowing time.

But Elaine? She looked at me like I was just a boy throwing a tantrum. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended. “Elaine Hartwell. I fix the town's plumbing and I'm not afraid of your dead father's reputation.” She stepped closer, pointing the wrench at my chest. “Vincent Benson might own this town, but he doesn't own me. And neither do you.” I found out immediately after she was mostly all talk. Elaine was gentle and kind. She brought food for us, locked the compound door at one point so I could eat, played songs so we could dance, fixed things around the house as a handywoman.

His words were a near shout in the chaos of the market. Elaine nodded, pushing towards the rim of the city where fewer people were bartering. Shaking her hands, she nearly shivered, “Gah, I hate people.” It wasn’t supposed to escape her lips, but in her weariness, the words had tumbled out. Looking at her, Andrew snorted a laugh. “She looks half decent.” Elaine pointed towards a middle-aged woman who was sorting pears on an old wooden cart. Approaching her, Elaine spoke first, “Excuse me?”