According to the gossip she had heard, Nick never went to bed with a woman without first having delivered what was known as The Talk.
The Talk was said to be a clear, concise position statement that made it plain that he was not interested in any long-term arrangements like marriage. Women who chose to sleep with Nick Harte went into the relationship with their eyes wide open.
They said that even if you lured him into your bed, he would be gone long before dawn. He never stayed the night, according to the stories that circulated about him.
Here in Eclipse Bay, where gossip about the Hartes and the Madisons had been raised to a fine art, folks were certain that they knew the real reason for The Talk. The local mythology held that Nick, being a true Harte, was unable to love again because he was still mourning the loss of his beloved Amelia. He was under a curse, some said, doomed never to find another true love until the right woman shattered the spell that bound him. His reputation for never staying the night with any of his lovers only fanned the flames of that particular legend.
Of course, that did not stop shoppers in the narrow aisles at Fulton's Supermarket from holding forth on the subject of the importance of Nick marrying again in order to provide his son with a mother. They said the same thing at the post office and in the hardware store.
But Carson didn't need a mother, Octavia thought. Nick was doing a fine job of raising him, as far as she could tell. The boy was the most self-assured, well-adjusted, precocious little kid she had ever met in her life. And there was no shortage of feminine influence available to him. Carson enjoyed the warmth of a close-knit, extended family that included a doting grandmother, a great-grandmother, and two aunts, Lillian and Hannah.
She unhooked her sandals, rose from the stool, and went to stand at the front window of Bright Visions. The morning fog was thinning, but it had not yet burned off. Across the street she could just make out the pier and the nearby marina. The lights were on in the Incandescent Body bakery down the street, and she could see the erratic snap and pulse of the broken neon sign that marked the Total Eclipse Bar amp; Grill. The tavern's logo, Where the Sun Don't Shine, was just barely visible.
The rest of the world was lost in a sea of gray mist.
Just like her life.
A shiver went through her. Where had that thought come from? She wrapped her arms around herself. She would not go there, she vowed silently.
But the moody feeling was a warning, loud and clear. It was time to make some new plans; time to take control of her future. Her mission here in Eclipse Bay had been a failure.
Time to move on.
Her mission.
For months she had told herself that she had come here to right the wrongs of the past. In the beginning she had established a schedule that had allowed her to divide her time between this gallery and the main branch in Portland. But as the months went by she had found more and more reasons to extend her visits in Eclipse Bay.
Deep down she had actually been elated when her assistant here had run off with the artist. On impulse she had placed the Portland branch in the capable hands of a trusted manager, packed her suitcases, and moved her personal possessions into the little cottage on the bluff near Hidden Cove.
What had she been thinking? she wondered.
It was obvious that the Hartes and the Madisons did not need her help in healing the rift her great-aunt, Claudia Banner, had created so many years ago. The proud families were successfully putting the feud behind them without any assistance at all from her. There had been two weddings in the past few months that had united the clans, and now those old warriors, Sullivan Harte and Mitchell Madison, could be seen drinking coffee and eating donuts together at the bakery whenever Sullivan was in town.
No one in Eclipse Bay needed her. There was no reason for her to stay. It was time to go.
But that was easier said than done. She couldn't just close the door of the gallery and disappear in the middle of the night. Bright Visions was a small business, but it was thriving, and that meant it was worth a goodly sum. She would have to make arrangements to sell up and that might take a while. And then there was the matter of her obligations to the various artists whose work she exhibited and the commitment she had made to the Children's Art Show.
The art show had been her idea. She was the one who had come up with the concept and lobbied the members of the Eclipse Bay Summer Celebration committee to include it as one of the activities associated with this year's event. Enthusiasm for the project ran high. She knew that the children who planned to draw pictures for the event would be crushed if she cancelled it.
All in all, she concluded, what with getting Bright Visions ready to sell and fulfilling her business and civic commitments, she would probably not be able to escape Eclipse Bay until the end of the summer. But by fall she would be somewhere else. She had to find a place where she truly belonged.
Chapter 2
That afternoon she closed the gallery at five-thirty and drove over to Mitchell Madison's house. She got out of the car and waved at Bryce as she went past the open kitchen door. He looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove and inclined his head in a solemn greeting.
She smiled to herself. Bryce was the strong, silent type. He had worked for Mitchell for years. No one knew much about his past before he had arrived in town, and Bryce had never felt any impulse to enlighten anyone on that subject.
She understood where he was coming from, she thought.
She wandered into the garden and looked around, savoring the little slice of paradise that was Mitchell's creation. She had spent enough time in Eclipse Bay to know that, while everyone in the vicinity was quick to point out his legendary character flaws and remind you of his several failed marriages, no one disputed Mitchell's brilliance as a gardener. Gardening was his passion, and no one came between a Madison and his passion.
She came to a halt on the other side of a bed of gloriously blooming rose bushes.
"I've made a decision, Mitch."
He looked up at her from the padded kneeling bench he was using to work around the plants. He had the face of an aging, beat-up old gunslinger, she thought fondly, one who had only hardened with the years; a guy who could still hold his own against the young toughs if called upon to do so.
"What kind of decision?" Mitchell demanded.
The sharpness of his tone was a surprise. Mitchell never spoke sharply to her.
"I'll be leaving town at the end of the summer," she said.
"You mean you'll be spending more time back in Portland." He nodded, evidently satisfied, and went back to his weeding. "I can see where you might need to give more attention to your gallery there come fall. It's a much bigger operation."
"No," she said gently, "I mean that I will be leaving Eclipse Bay for good at the end of the summer season. I plan to sell both branches of Bright Visions."
He stiffened, eyes narrowing against the fading sun. "You're gonna sell up? Well, shoot and damn. Why the hell do you want to go and do a thing like that?"
"It's time." She smiled to cover the wistful feeling. "Past time, really. In fact, I probably shouldn't have come here in the first place."
"Not a lot of money in the art business here in Eclipse Bay, huh?" He shrugged. "No surprise there, I reckon. Eclipse Bay isn't exactly the art capital of the universe."
"Actually, the gallery here is doing fairly well. We drew clients from Chamberlain College and the institute this past winter, and now with summer here, we're picking up a lot of tourist business. Bright Visions is starting to get a reputation as an important art stop here on the coast."
His brows bunched together. "You're saying your business here is doing all right?"
"Yes, I expect to sell at a profit."
"Then why the hell are you talking about pulling out?"
"As I said, I think it's time for me to go."
He squinted at her. "You don't sound right. You feeling okay today, Octavia?"
"Yes."
"Not coming down sick, are you?"
"No."
"Shoot and damn. What's going on here?" He holstered the trowel he had been wielding, gripped the handholds on the low gardener's bench, and hauled himself to his feet. He seized his cane and turned around to confront her, scowling ferociously. "What's all this talk about leaving?"
"There's something that I want to tell you, Mitch. I don't plan to let a lot of other folks know because I don't want to upset people and cause talk. Lord knows, there's been enough gossip about the Hartes and the Madisons in this town. But you and I are friends. And I want my friends to know who I am."
"I know who you are." He thumped the cane once on the gravel walk. "You're Octavia Brightwell."
"Yes, but there's more to the story." She looked at him very steadily and braced herself to deliver the shocker. "Claudia Banner was my great-aunt."
To her astonishment he merely shrugged. "You think we didn't figure that out a while back?"
She stilled. "We?"
"Sullivan and me. He and I have slowed down some over the years, but we haven't come to a complete stop. Not yet, at any rate."
She didn't know what to say. "You know?"
"Sullivan spotted the likeness the night you hosted that show for Lillian's paintings down at your little gallery. Soon as he pointed it out, I finally realized why there had always been something sort of familiar about you." He smiled faintly. "You look a lot like Claudia did when she was your age. Same red hair. Something about your profile, too, I think. The way you hold yourself."
"But how did you-"
"Sullivan made some phone calls. Did some checking. Wasn't hard to find the connection."
"I see." She was feeling a little stunned, she realized. Maybe a little deflated, too. So much for her big bombshell.
"Not like you tried to hide it," Mitchell said.
"No, but I certainly didn't want to make a big deal about it here in Eclipse Bay, given what happened in the past and all."
Mitchell reached down and plucked a lush orange-gold bloom. "Funny thing about the past. The older you get, the less it matters."
She fell silent for a long moment, shifting gears as she adjusted to the turn of events. "If Sullivan made some calls, you probably know about Aunt Claudia." She took a deep breath. "That she's gone, I mean."
"Yeah." Mitchell looked up from the rose. His gaze was steady and a little sad. "Heard she passed on a year and a half ago. Heart problems, Sullivan said."
She felt the familiar tightening inside. Eighteen months but she still had to fight back the tears. "She never managed to give up the cigarettes. In the end, the doctor said it was amazing she made it as long as she did."
"I remember Claudia and her cigarettes. She was always reaching for the next one. Had herself a fancy little gold lighter. I can still see her taking it out of her purse to light another smoke."
"Mitchell, let me get something straight here. Are you telling me that you and Sullivan don't care that I'm related to Claudia Banner?"
"Of course we care. But it's not exactly what you'd call a problem for us."
"Oh." She was not sure how to respond to that.
"Can't say we weren't a bit curious at first, though," he added dryly.
"I can imagine. Why didn't you say something? Ask questions? Demand an explanation? I've stopped by here almost every morning or afternoon when I'm in town to say hello. I must have talked to you dozens of times since Lillian's show. But you never said a word. I've seen Sullivan on several occasions, too. He never gave any indication that he knew who I was."
"It was your personal business. Sullivan and I talked about it some. Figured we'd let you tell us in your own time."
"I see." She thought about that for a while. "Did you, uh, mention your little insight to anyone else?"
"Nope. Didn't figure it was anyone else's affair."
"Believe me, I understand." She wrinkled her nose. "If word got out that Claudia Banner's great-niece was in town and that she had become friends with the Madisons and the Hartes, there would be no end to the wild rumors and speculation. That's exactly why I kept a low profile."
"Yeah?"
"It wouldn't have been fair to you Madisons or to the Hartes. You've all suffered enough over the years because of what happened when you got involved with Aunt Claudia."
Mitchell snorted. "Madisons and Hartes are used to folks around here talking about us. Claudia may have been the spark that started the feud, but you can't blame her for the fact that Sullivan and I kept it going all those years. Hell, Madisons and Hartes have been inspiring conversation here in Eclipse Bay all by ourselves for decades. Got a real talent for it. Sometimes I think the good Lord put us on this earth just to keep this town entertained."
In other words, her concern for discretion and the privacy of the Madison and Harte families had been a complete waste of time and energy on her part. She sighed inwardly. Not only was she not needed here, Mitchell and Sullivan hadn't even cared enough about her presence in town to ask for explanations.
The day was getting more depressing by the minute.
"Well, that's that, then, isn't it?" She straightened her shoulders, preparing to leave. "I just wanted you to know, Mitch." She took a step back. "Guess I'll be going." She retreated another step. "Your roses look incredible, by the way."
Mitchell rapped his cane on the gravel again. "Hang on a minute. I'm the first to admit that you've got a right to keep your private business private, but now that you've mentioned Claudia and what happened in the past, I think maybe I've got a right to know why you've suddenly decided to pull up stakes."
"It's hard to explain."
His hawklike eyes gleamed with shrewd comprehension. "It's Nick Harte, isn't it?"
She was dumbfounded. "I, uh-"
"He's been pestering you, hasn't he? I knew it. I saw the way he moved in on you the night of Lillian's show. When he turned up in town a couple of weeks ago and settled into the Harte cottage for the summer, I got right on the phone to Sullivan."
"You what?"
"I warned him that he'd better keep Nick reined in good and tight. Told him I wouldn't stand by and let his grandson play any of his love 'em and leave 'em games with you. I don't care if Nick is still broken up about losing his wife. That's no excuse to fool around with you. Time he got over what happened and straightened himself out. Time he started acting like a real Harte again."
"A, uh, real Harte?" she repeated carefully.
"Damn right. Hartes don't mess around and have affairs. Hartes get married."
"I've heard that theory," she said dryly. "But there are exceptions to every rule. In any event, set your mind at rest, Mitch. This has got nothing to do with Nick Harte."
Even as the words left her lips, she realized she was lying through her teeth. Leaving Eclipse Bay had everything to do with Nick Harte. She just wasn't sure how to explain the connection, not even to herself, let alone to Mitchell.
"Bullshit." Mitchell glowered. "Pardon my language. But you've got to admit that the timing is more than a tad suspicious."
"Look, Mitch, we're getting a little off-topic here. I stopped by to tell you about my link to Claudia Banner.
But since you already know about it, maybe I should tell you why I came here to Eclipse Bay in the first place."
There was a short silence. She could hear the distant clatter of pots in the kitchen. The light breeze off the bay shifted tree branches in the corner of the garden. Birds chattered overhead.
"Sullivan and me, we decided maybe you were just curious," Mitchell said after a while.
"It was more than mere curiosity," she said quietly. "I should probably start at the beginning."
"If that's what you want to do."
She hesitated, looking for the right place to begin. "I was with my aunt a lot during the last couple of years of her life. She needed someone to take care of her and there wasn't anyone else. Aunt Claudia was not the most popular member of the family."
"Hell, I didn't even realize she had a family. She never mentioned the subject."
"She was the renegade. The black sheep. The one who was always a source of acute embarrassment. But I had always liked her a lot. And she liked me. Maybe it was because I looked so much like her. Or maybe she just felt sorry for me."
"Why would she feel sorry for you?"
"I think she saw me as a loner, just as she was. My parents divorced when I was small. They both remarried and started new families. I spent most of my youth shuttling back and forth between them but I never felt at home in either house. Aunt Claudia sensed that, I think."
"Go on."
"Claudia was very special to me. I know she had her faults, and her business ethics left a lot to be desired. But I loved her and she cared about me in her own way. She worried that I was too inclined to play it safe. She said I spent too much time trying to smooth things over and calm the waters. She kept urging me to take a few chances."
"She sure knew how to take 'em." Mitchell chuckled reminiscently. "Maybe that was one of the reasons I couldn't take my eyes off her back in the old days."
"She never forgot you, Mitch. When she became seriously ill, I went to stay with her until the end. It took over a year for her to die. We had a lot of time to talk."
"And one of the things you two talked about was Eclipse Bay? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yes. She became increasingly obsessed with what had happened here. Said she didn't have a lot of regrets, but the destruction of Harte-Madison was one of them. She talked about how she wished that she could make amends."
"She should have known she couldn't go back and fix something that happened so long ago," Mitchell said.
"I know. But the subject became more and more important to her. Maybe because toward the end she became a serious student of New Age metaphysics. She talked a lot about karma and auras and such. At any rate, she asked me to come here after she was gone to find out how things stood. She wanted me to see if there was anything I could do to repair some of the damage she had done."
"Well, shoot and damn." Mitchell whistled softly. "So that's why you showed up here in town late last summer?"
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