Dawn in Eclipse Bay

  She had always understood that distinction intuitively when it came to her painting. Now she was starting to understand it about her relationship with Gabe, as well. Serious stuff.

  She went back into the house, closed the door and crossed to the phone to listen to her messages. There were two, she noticed. The first was, as she had expected, from her mother.

  Might as well get this over with fast. She braced herself and dialed the number of the hotel room in San Diego.

  We’re all adults here.

  Elaine Harte answered on the second ring. In typical maternal fashion, she did not take long to come to the point.

  “What in the world is going on up there in Eclipse Bay?” she asked without preamble.

  “Long story.”

  “Your grandfather phoned yesterday. He and your father talked for a very long time. It was not what anyone would call a cheerful, lighthearted conversation. I haven’t heard those two go at it like that in years. Sullivan says that you’ve closed Private Arrangements for good. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, darling, why?” Elaine’s voice rose in that practiced wail of dismay that is unique to mothers around the world. “You were doing so well.”

  Elaine did not actually add at last but it was there, silently tacked on to the end of the sentence.

  “You know why, Mom.”

  There was a short silence, then Elaine sighed.

  “Your painting,” she said.

  The whining tone had vanished from her voice as if by magic, Lillian noticed. Smart moms also knew when to abandon a tactic that no longer worked.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, Mom. I need to see if I can make it happen.”

  “Can’t you keep Private Arrangements going while you find out if you can make a living with art? You’ve always painted in the evenings and on weekends.”

  Lillian flopped down on the sofa and stacked her heels on the coffee table. “I feel that the time has come to put my art at the top of my agenda. I need to concentrate on it. The fact is, after a full day at Private Arrangements, I’m tired, Mom. I don’t have a lot of energy left for my work.”

  My work. She was using the word, herself, she realized, mildly astonished. The same way Gabe used it, to describe the important thing that she did. Painting wasn’t a hobby. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t entertainment. It was her passion.

  “And if the painting doesn’t go well?” Elaine said. “Will you reopen Private Arrangements? You still have your program and your client list, don’t you?”

  “I can’t think about that now, Mom. I have to stay focused.”

  “You sound just like your father and your grandfather when you say things like that.” Elaine hesitated and then probed further. “Sullivan told your father something else. He said that you and Gabe Madison are seeing each other . . . socially.”

  Lillian laughed in spite of tension. “I’ll bet he said a lot more than that.”

  Elaine cleared her throat. “I believe he used the phrase ‘shacking up together.’ ”

  “I knew it.” Lillian took her heels off the table and sat up on the edge of the sofa. “Mitchell Madison did squeal to Granddad. Interesting that he went straight to Sullivan with the news, isn’t it? I wonder why he did that.”

  There was another brief pause.

  “So it’s true?” Elaine asked, her voice grim.

  “Afraid so.” Lillian hunched around the phone in her hand. “But I prefer the phrase ‘seeing each other socially’ to ‘shacking up together.’ ”

  “Men of Mitchell’s and Sullivan’s age have a different view of these matters. And a different vocabulary to describe them.”

  “Guess so.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how does Gabe describe your, uh, relationship?”

  We’re all adults here.

  “I haven’t actually asked him that question. Not in so many words. Look, Mom, I know you mean well, but this conversation is getting a bit personal. I’m perfectly capable of handling my own private life.”

  “When Hartes and Madisons get together in Eclipse Bay, there is no such thing as a private life,” Elaine said.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. But I’m still capable of dealing with things here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. Mom, I’m not in high school anymore. Or even college, for that matter. I’ve been getting by out there in the big bad world all on my own for quite a while now.”

  “You haven’t had to deal with the complications of having a Madison in your life.”

  “Gabe is a different kind of Madison, remember? He’s the one who made it through college and built a very successful business. When I was a kid, I recall Dad saying that Gabe was the one Madison who proved the exception to the rule that all Madisons were bound to come to a bad end.”

  “Yes, dear, I know.” Another short silence hummed on the line. “But between you and me, Gabe was the one I worried about the most.”

  That stopped Lillian cold. “You did?”

  Elaine was quiet for a moment. Lillian could almost hear her thinking about the past.

  “I wasn’t the only one who was concerned about him,” Elaine said eventually. “Isabel and I discussed him often. Even as a little boy, Gabe always seemed too self-contained, too controlled. He never lost his temper, never got in trouble at school. Always got good grades. It just wasn’t natural.”

  “You mean for a Madison?” .

  “No, I mean for a little boy. Any little boy.”

  “Oh.”

  “It was as if he always had his own private agenda. Looking back, I can see that he must have been driven, even then, by his vision of building a business empire.”

  “I think you’re right,” Lillian said. “He needed to prove something to himself. But he accomplished his goal.”

  “People who are compelled by a lifelong ambition do not change, even after it appears to everyone else around them that they have achieved that ambition. In my experience they remain driven. It’s a deeply imbedded characteristic.”

  A Madison and his passion.

  “Mom, listen, I really don’t—”

  “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life, but I am your mother.”

  “I know.” Lillian sighed. “You gotta do what a mom’s gotta do.”

  “I think you should assume that nothing has changed with Gabe.”

  “What?”

  “Madison Commercial was always the most important thing in his life. It still is. If anything, all that single-minded determination and willpower he used to get to where he is today has only become more honed through the years.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning,” Elaine said bluntly, “that if he has decided to see you socially, as you call it, he very likely has a reason.”

  She felt her stomach tighten. “Is this where you tell me that the only thing Gabe wants from me is sex?”

  “No.” Elaine paused. “To be frank, I expect that, given his money and position, Gabe can get as much of that as he wants.”

  Lillian winced. She had a feeling her mother was right. “Please don’t tell me that you think he’s getting some sort of perverse satisfaction out of having an intimate relationship with a Harte. I refuse to believe that he’s so warped or so immature that he sees seducing me as a form of one-upsmanship.”

  “No.”

  She felt her stomach unknot. “He wouldn’t stoop to such a thing just to score points off a Harte. Heck, his brother is married to one now. Even Granddad couldn’t possibly believe—”

  “No,” Elaine said again, soothing now but firm. “I don’t think Gabe would seduce you just to score points in that ridiculous old feud. He’s a long-term strategist, not a short-term opportunist.”

  She let herself relax a little more. “So, what are you trying to say, Mom?”

  “I just want you to be careful, dear. Your father and I have been talking a lot lately. It is
clear that Harte Investments will have to be sold or merged when Hampton retires in a couple of years. None of you three kids wants to take over the company, nor does your father want you to feel that you must.”

  “I know. He’s been great about not pressuring us.”

  “Lord knows he experienced enough pressure when he was your age. He refuses to put any of you through it, regardless of what Sullivan wants.”

  “What?” Lillian froze. “Are you telling me that the only reason Dad took over Harte Investments was because Granddad pressured him to do it?”

  “In the years following the breakup of Harte-Madison, your grandfather put everything he had into building Harte Investments. It was always understood that Hampton would be his heir apparent. Your father went along with Sullivan’s dreams but they were never really his dreams.”

  “I see.”

  Lillian got to her feet and stood in front of the window, the phone clutched very tightly in her hand. She looked out at the white ripples on the bay and knew a strange sense of sudden understanding. It was as if a veil had been pulled back. She had just gotten a fleeting glimpse of a piece of family history that she had never even suspected existed.

  “Hampton did not want any of you three to feel you had to live someone else’s dreams,” Elaine said. “He made that clear to your grandfather years ago.”

  “Dad took the heat for us? I always wondered why Granddad didn’t make a bigger issue out of the fact that none of us showed much interest in Harte Investments. We all thought that Sullivan had just mellowed with the years.”

  “Fat chance.” Elaine gave a soft, ladylike snort. “Your father went toe-to-toe with Sullivan more than once over that issue. He warned your grandfather that he would not permit any of you three to be coerced into turning the company into a family dynasty. Hampton wanted each of you to feel free to choose your own paths in life.”

  “But Dad never felt that he, himself, had that option?”

  “Not in the early days,” Elaine said. “But things have changed. Hampton and I agree now that life is simply too short to spend it maintaining someone else’s vision. Your father has plans for his future and he’s going after it with both hands. Sullivan has called the shots in this family long enough. He can do whatever he wants with Harte Investments. Hampton and I are cutting loose.”

  There was no mistaking the steely satisfaction and determination in her mother’s voice. This was, Lillian thought, a whole new side of Elaine.

  “You’re talking about the charitable foundation you two plan to set up, aren’t you?” Lillian asked.

  “Yes. Your father can’t wait to get started on it.”

  “I see.” Lillian blinked away the moisture that was blurring her view of the bay. “Guess Hannah and Nick and I all owe Dad big-time for keeping Sullivan off our backs, huh?”

  “Yes, you do,” Elaine said pointedly. “But that’s not the issue here. What I want you to understand is that Gabe Madison is one very smart, very savvy CEO. Rumors travel like wildfire in his world. He has to be aware of the situation at Harte Investments. He must know very well that the company probably won’t continue as a privately held family business much longer.”

  “So what?”

  “I suspect he’s working on the assumption that H.I. will either be merged or sold soon. But if he marries you—”

  “Stop.” Lillian could hardly breathe. “Stop right there. Don’t say it, Mom. Please don’t tell me that he’s sleeping with me just because he thinks he can get his hands on a third of Harte Investments that way.”

  There was a heavily freighted pause on the other end of the line.

  “He’d have to do more than sleep with you to get his hands on a large piece of the company,” Elaine said finally. “He’d have to marry you to accomplish that goal, wouldn’t he?”

  Through the window Lillian could see that another new storm was moving in quickly. The winds were snapping and snarling beneath the eaves of the cottage. An ominous haze was forming out on the bay. The water was turning steel gray.

  “Look on the bright side, Mom. Gabe hasn’t said a word about marriage. I have it on good authority that, when you get right down to it, I’m not his type.”

  She went through the motions of making a pot of tea while she dealt with the floodtide of restless thoughts that cluttered her brain after she hung up the phone. By the time the water boiled, she had managed to regain some perspective.

  Get a grip, she told herself as she poured the brewed green tea into a cup. What she had said to her mother was true. Gabe had not even hinted at marriage. He seemed quite satisfied with the prospect of having an affair with her, but that appeared to be his only goal.

  On the other hand, she did not have a great track record when it came to applying her intuitive abilities to Gabe Madison. For some reason, her normally reliable sensors always seemed to get scrambled when it came to analyzing his vibes. Until last night, for example, she had been laboring under the assumption that the man was suffering a severe case of burnout.

  She wandered into her studio, mug in hand, and looked at the blank canvas propped on the easel. She had come here to Eclipse Bay to paint, but thus far she had done little more than unpack her paints and brushes. She had made some sketches but she had not done any serious work. The relationship with Gabe was proving to be a huge distraction.

  She fiddled with a pencil for a while, doing a little drawing, trying to get into the zone where the vision of the picture took shape around her, forming an alternate universe.

  But she couldn’t concentrate, so she headed back toward the kitchen to refill her tea mug.

  She saw the light on the telephone answering machine when she was halfway across the living room. Belatedly she remembered that there had been two messages. She had only listened to the one from her mother.

  She changed course to play the second message.

  “. . . This is Mitchell Madison. We gotta talk.”

  Just what she needed to round out her day and ensure that she got absolutely no painting done whatsoever.

  That afternoon, she walked into Mitchell Madison’s garden and looked around with interest. She had heard about this fantasyland of lush ferns, exotic herbs, and exuberant roses for as long as she could recall. For years it had been generally accepted in Eclipse Bay that Mitchell’s garden was far and away the most spectacular in town. Even now, in the heart of winter when all of the blooms had disappeared, it was an earthly paradise. But, then, they said gardening was Mitchell’s passion and everyone knew how it was with a Madison and his passion.

  She followed the graveled path that led past banks of thriving ferns and through a maze of exquisitely maintained plant beds. The recent rains had released rich scents from the ground. At the far end of the walk a large greenhouse loomed. She could see a shadowy figure moving behind the opaque walls.

  She opened the door and stepped into the fragrant, humid warmth. Mitchell was working intently over some clay pots arrayed on a waist-high bench. He had a pair of small shears in one hand and a tiny trowel in the other. The pockets of his heavy-duty, dirt-stained apron were filled with gardening implements. He appeared to be totally engrossed in his plants.

  “I got your message, Mr. Madison,” she said from the doorway.

  Mitchell looked up quickly, gray brows bristling above his fierce, aquiline nose. “There you are. Come in and close the door. It’s cold out there today.”

  She stepped farther into the greenhouse, allowing the door to swing shut. “You made it sound urgent. Is something wrong?”

  “Shoot and damn, course there’s something wrong.” He put down the shears and the trowel and stripped off his gloves. “I turned this thing over to Sullivan but as far as I can see, he hasn’t done a blame thing to straighten up this mess. Looks like I’ll have to take a hand.”

  “Situation?”

  “First things first. You serious about Gabe or are you just havin’ yourself some fun?”

  She came to an abrup
t halt. This was going to be worse than she imagined. For an instant she was afraid the thick air would suffocate her. With an effort of will, she managed to resist the temptation to flee back outside.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t play games with me, young woman. You know what I’m talkin’ about here. If you’re fixin’ to break Gabe’s heart, I want to find out now.”

  “Me? Break Gabe’s heart?” From out of nowhere, anger surged through her. “What makes you think that’s even a remote possibility?”

  Madison gave a muffled snort. “You’ve got him in the palm of your hand and you know it. Question is, what are you gonna do about it?”

  “That’s ridiculous. Just because we’re seeing a lot of each other—”

  “Seeing each other? Huh. Appears to me that the two of you are doin’ a heck of a lot more than just lookin’ at each other. You think no one would notice if you just up and ran off to Portland together for a night? Shoot and damn, you aren’t even trying to keep things a secret.”

  “You know as well as I do that you can’t control gossip here in Eclipse Bay.”

  “When I was your age most folks had the common decency to do their foolin’ around out of sight.”

  He was genuinely irate, she realized, as if this mess were somehow all her fault. His bad temper only served to inflame her own.

  “That’s not what I hear, Mr. Madison. The way my folks tell it, you were more than a little obvious about your fooling around back in the good old days. In fact, Madisons in general are notorious for keeping the gossip mills humming here in Eclipse Bay.”

  “Times change. Things are different now.”

  “The fact that things are different now doesn’t change the past.”

  “We’re talking about Gabe.” Mitchell planted his hands on his hips. “He’s a different kind of Madison.”

  “People keep saying that, but how do I know if it’s true?”

  “You’re gonna have to take my word for it.”

  She smiled coldly. “Now why would I do that?”

  “Look, I can see where you might not be able to figure him out. Gabe’s a little complicated.”