“A little complicated. That’s putting it mildly.”
“The important thing here is that I don’t want him hurt. If you’re not serious about him, I want you to break it off now before he gets in any deeper.”
“Just because we’re seeing each other,” she said through her teeth, “it does not necessarily follow that your grandson is in love with me.”
“If the two of you were just bouncing around together in a bed in Portland, that would be one thing. I wouldn’t pay any attention. But Gabe left Madison Commercial to follow you here to Eclipse Bay. That means he’s serious.”
“Good grief, you make it sound like the company’s his wife and I’m the other woman.”
Mitchell nodded. “That’s not too far off, when you think about it.”
“Look, for the record, Gabe did not leave Madison Commercial for me.” She spread her hands. “He’s just taking a little vacation, that’s all.”
“Bullshit. ’Scuse my language. Gabe doesn’t take vacations. Leastways, not monthlong ones. He walked out on M.C. because he lost his head over you. That’s the only explanation.”
“A very romantic notion but that’s not what happened. Furthermore, there are any number of people around these parts and several in my own family who will be only too happy to tell you what they believe is the real reason he took a month off from Madison Commercial.”
“And just what the heck do they figure that real reason is?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the talk. The gossip in certain quarters is that Gabe wants to marry me in order to get his hands on a large piece of Harte Investments.”
Mitchell stared at her in astonishment. He looked genuinely thunderstruck. “Are you crazy, woman? Madisons don’t marry for money.”
“Maybe most Madisons don’t marry for money. But everyone has always claimed that Gabe is a different kind of Madison.”
Mitchell snorted. “Not that different.”
“Look, we all know that Madison Commercial is the most important thing in Gabe’s life. It’s his creation. Over the years, he has sacrificed for it, fought for it, nurtured it. Why wouldn’t he be attracted to someone who could add significantly to his empire?”
“If he’d been the type to marry for money, he’d have married Marilyn Thornley all those years ago. Her family has plenty of cash.”
She frowned. “I was under the impression that they broke up because Marilyn ditched him for Thornley, not because Gabe didn’t want to marry her.”
“Shoot and damn. Can’t you figure it out for yerself? They split on accounta Gabe made it clear that Madison Commercial was more important to him than she was. That woman likes to be number one.”
“So do I, Mr. Mitchell.”
“You’re a Harte. You understand about business coming first.”
“No, as a matter of fact, I do not.”
“Sure you do. Look, you know damn well you’ve got Gabe’s full, undivided attention and that means things are dead serious. At least they are for him. What I want to know is, how do you feel about Gabe? You willing to get married?”
She took a step back and groped for the doorknob with one hand. “Mr. Madison, this discussion is purely hypothetical. For your information, the subject of marriage has never come up between Gabe and me.”
“Looks like it will. And pretty damn quick, too, if I know Gabe. He didn’t get where he is by letting grass grow under his feet.”
“I really don’t think so, Mr. Madison.” She found the doorknob and wrapped her fingers around it very tightly, using it to steady herself. “For the record, Gabe has made it very clear that he does not want to marry what he refers to as an arty type. If you will recall, I’m an artist. That sort of takes me out of the running, don’t you think?”
“Nah. Not with a Madison. Madisons aren’t that logical when it comes to love.”
She had to get out of here. She was ready to explode. “Let me make something clear. If, and I repeat, if, Gabe ever brought up the subject of marriage, I would want to know that I was more important to him than just another addition to his empire.”
“And just how the hell is he supposed to prove that?”
“Beats me. That’s not my problem. It’s Gabe’s. Assuming you’re right, of course, which is highly doubtful.”
“Shoot and damn, if that isn’t just like a Harte. Askin’ for hard evidence when it comes to something that’s downright impossible to prove.” Mitchell leveled a finger at her. “Know what I think? I think you’ve just decided to play with him a little. You’re havin’ yourself some fun, aren’t you? You’re not serious about him.”
She had the door open now but something in his voice made her pause on the threshold. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”
“Got a right to worry about him. He’s my grandson, damn it. I may not have done the best job of raising him and Rafe after their parents died, but I did what I could to make things right. I got a responsibility to Gabe. I got to look out for him.”
She searched his face. “He has the impression that you don’t care that he’s made a success of Madison Commercial.”
“Course I care,” Mitchell roared. “I’m proud of what he’s done with that company. He proved to you Hartes and the whole damn world that a Madison can make somethin’ of himself. He proved that a Madison who sets his mind to it can get his act together, that being a member of this family doesn’t mean you’re doomed to screw up everything you touch the way I did and the way his father did.”
There was a short, hard silence.
“Did you ever tell him that?” Lillian asked softly. “Because I think he needs to hear it.”
Mitchell’s mouth opened again but this time no words emerged.
She turned and walked out into the garden.
Gabe dunked a clam strip into the spicy red sauce. “Heard you went out to the house to see Mitchell this afternoon.”
Lillian started a little. The fork in her hand trembled slightly. She clenched her fingers around it and stabbed at the mound of coleslaw on her plate.
“Who told you that?” she asked.
Stalling, he thought. Why? What the hell was going on here?
This morning when they had left Portland together he had been feeling good. More settled. Like he finally had a handle on this relationship. He had assured himself that various issues had been clarified.
He and Lillian were having an affair. They both agreed on that. Couldn’t get much simpler or more straightforward than that.
But now that they were back in Eclipse Bay, everything was starting to get complicated again.
He pondered that while he listened to the background hum of conversations and the clatter of dishes and silverware. The Crab Trap was a noisy, cheerful place. Until Rafe and Hannah got Dreamscape open, it was the closest thing to fine dining that Eclipse Bay could offer. It boasted a view of the bay, actual tablecloths and little candles in old Chianti bottles. On prom night and Mother’s Day it was always fully booked.
It had seemed the obvious choice for dinner tonight.
A little too obvious, he had realized a few minutes ago when Marilyn Thornley had walked in with a small entourage and occupied the large booth at the rear.
“Ran into Bryce at the gas station.” Gabe put the clam strip into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “He mentioned you’d been out to the house. Not like Bryce to say anything about a casual visit. He doesn’t talk much. Must have figured it was important.”
Lillian hesitated and then gave a tiny shrug. “Your grandfather left a message on my answering machine while we were in Portland. Said he wanted to see me. I drove over to his place. It seemed the polite thing to do under the circumstances.”
“What did he want?”
“Seemed to think that I was exerting my feminine wiles on you. Weaving a net of seduction in which to trap you, et cetera, et cetera. Evidently he’s afraid that I might break your heart.”
He managed to swallow the clam strip
without sputtering and choking but it was not easy.
“He said that? That he’s worried you might break my heart?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, shoot and damn.”
“He said ‘shoot and damn’ a lot, too.”
“This is a little embarrassing.”
“He wanted to know if my intentions were honorable,” Lillian said without inflection.
Gabe made himself pick up another clam strip. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him the same thing that I told my mother today when she asked me about our relationship.”
Definitely getting more complicated by the minute.
“And what was that?” he asked.
She picked up her water glass. “That the subject of honorable intentions had not arisen and that it was highly unlikely to arise.”
“You told both of them that?”
“Yes. Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Want to talk about ’em now?” he asked.
She flushed and glanced hurriedly around, apparently making certain that no one had overheard him. “That is not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to make a joke.”
“For heaven’s sake, Gabe, keep your voice down.”
“It is down. Yours is starting to get a little loud, though.”
“You know, I don’t need this. I’ve had a difficult day. I came here to work. Thus far I have accomplished nothing. Absolutely zilch.”
“Painting not going well?” he asked.
“What painting? I’m starting to think I’ll have to go back to Portland to get anything done.”
“Take it easy. You seem a little tense tonight.”
“I’m not tense,” she muttered.
“Okay, if you say so, but I gotta tell you that you look tense.”
She lowered her fork very deliberately. “If this is your idea of a relaxing evening, I—” She broke off, stiffening in her chair. “Oh, damn.”
“What’s wrong? Is it Marilyn? I saw her come in earlier. Don’t worry about her, she’s busy with her staff in the booth at the back. I don’t think she’ll pester us tonight.”
“Not Marilyn.” Lillian stared past him toward the door. “Anderson.”
“Flint? Here? What the hell?” He turned to follow her gaze. Sure enough, J. Anderson Flint stood in close conversation with the hostess. “Well, what do you know? Almost didn’t recognize him in his clothes.”
“What on earth could he possibly be doing in Eclipse Bay?”
“I’d say that was obvious.” Gabe turned back to his food. “He followed you here.”
“There is absolutely no reason for him do that.”
“I can think of one.”
She frowned. “What?”
“He wants to buy your matchmaking program, remember?”
“Oh. I forgot about that. But I told him I didn’t want to sell.”
“Probably thinks he can talk you into it.”
“Damn. I did not need this.”
Gabe turned his head to take another look at Flint. At that moment Anderson caught sight of Lillian. His smile was the sort a man bestows on a long-lost pal. He made a never-mind gesture to the hostess and started across the restaurant.
“He followed you, all right,” Gabe said.
Lillian crushed a napkin in one hand. “I can’t believe he wants my program that badly.”
“You made a lot of money with that program. Why wouldn’t he want to do the same?”
Her brows came together in a sharp frown. “You really are paranoid when it comes to money, aren’t you?”
“I’m not paranoid, I’m cautious.”
“Cautious, my—”
“Lillian.” Anderson came to a halt beside the table before Lillian could finish her sentence. He leaned down with the clear intent of kissing her lightly in greeting. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Lillian turned her head slightly, just enough to avoid the kiss. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m attending a conference at Chamberlain College. Arrived this afternoon. I’m staying at a motel just outside of town. I remember your saying something about taking some time off here in Eclipse Bay. We’ll have to get together while I’m here.” He extended his hand to Gabe. “J. Anderson Flint. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Gabe Madison.” He rose slowly and kept the handshake perfunctory. “We haven’t been formally introduced but I did see you once. Don’t think you would remember the occasion, though. You were a little busy at the time.”
“Gabe Madison of Madison Commercial? This is, indeed, a pleasure. Are you one of Lillian’s clients?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“We’re friends,” Lillian interrupted crisply. “We both have roots here in Eclipse Bay. My sister is married to his brother. Our families go back a long way together.”
“I see.” Anderson kept his attention on Gabe. “How long are you going to be in town?”
“As long as it takes,” Gabe said.
There was a stir at the front of the restaurant. He was conscious of a change in the atmosphere of the room. At the door an attractive woman was in heated conversation with the hostess.
“That’s Claire Jensen.” Lillian sounded concerned. “Marilyn’s new campaign manager, remember? Looks like something’s wrong.”
She was right, he thought. Even from here he could see that Claire’s face was tight with fury.
He also noticed that Marilyn had left her booth and was making her way swiftly toward the front of the restaurant. Her mouth was compressed into a tight, determined line.
“Uh-oh,” Lillian said. “I don’t like the looks of this.”
Claire’s voice rose above the hubbub. “Get out of my way, I said.” She tried to push the hostess aside. “I have something to say to that bitch and I’m not leaving until I’ve said it.”
Marilyn reached the hostess’s podium. She gripped Claire’s arm.
“I’ll take care of this,” she said to the hostess.
“Let go of me, you bitch,” Claire raged. “Take your hands off me. I’ll have you arrested. You can’t do this.”
But Marilyn already had her halfway through the door. Within seconds both women disappeared outside into the rainy night.
A hush fell over the restaurant. It lasted for all of five seconds. Then the room erupted in a buzz of excited conversation.
“Was that Marilyn Thornley?” Anderson sounded awed. “The wife of the politician who quit the senate race?”
“Soon to be ex-wife.” Lillian watched the closed doors at the front of the room. “And something tells me that Claire Jensen is now an ex–campaign manager. Poor Claire. I wonder what happened? I thought everything was going so well for her in her new job.”
The front door opened again a short time later. Marilyn strode back into the room, looking cool and unruffled by the skirmish. She paused to speak quietly to the hostess. Then she walked straight toward the table where Gabe sat with Lillian.
“You know her? You know Marilyn Thornley?” Anderson asked urgently.
“Her family has had a summer place here in town for years,” Lillian explained. “Gabe is much better acquainted with her than I am, however.”
Gabe gave her what he hoped was a silencing glare. He got one of her bright just-try-to-shut-me-up looks in return.
Marilyn arrived at the table.
“Sorry about that little scene,” she said. “I had to let Claire go today. She didn’t take it well.”
“Terminations are always so stressful, aren’t they?” Anderson’s voice throbbed with compassion. “May I say that you handled that unfortunate scene very effectively. You took complete control before things got out of hand. That’s the key. Complete control.”
“Someone had to do something before she interrupted everyone’s dinner.” Marilyn smiled and extended a graceful hand. “Marilyn Thornley.”
Anderson looked dazzled. “J. Anderson Flint. In town for a conferen
ce at Chamberlain. I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Thornley.”
“Please, call me Marilyn.”
“Yes, of course.”
This was getting downright sticky, Gabe mused.
“Got a new campaign manager lined up?” he asked.
“I’m putting together a short list,” Marilyn said. “I intend to announce my selection as soon as possible. This problem couldn’t have come at a worse time. I can’t afford to lose any momentum.”
Anderson glanced toward the door, a concerned expression knitting his brows. “I trust your former manager won’t cause you any trouble. Disgruntled employees can sometimes be dangerous.”
“Claire will behave herself if she knows what’s good for her,” Marilyn declared. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flint. Any friend of Gabe’s and Lillian’s is welcome at the institute. Please feel free to drop by while you’re in town and pick up some of my campaign material.”
“I’ll do that,” Anderson said immediately.
Marilyn inclined her head. “Wonderful. Now I’ll let you two get back to your meal. Have a nice evening.”
She walked away toward the booth at the rear. Anderson did not take his eyes off her.
“A very impressive woman,” he breathed. “Very impressive. So forceful. Dynamic. Authoritative. We need more people like her in public office.”
Lillian caught Gabe’s eye. She looked amused.
“A perfect match,” she murmured beneath the hum of background chatter.
He grinned. “Are you speaking as a professional?”
“Absolutely.”
He knew before she started making excuses that she wasn’t going to spend the night with him.
“I really need to get some sleep,” Lillian said when they walked out of the restaurant some time later. “I want to get up early tomorrow morning and try to do some work.”
“Here we go again. It’s those conversations you had with your mother and Mitchell, isn’t it?” He opened the door of the Jag with a little more force than was necessary. “They messed with your mind.”
She slid into the dark cave that was the front seat. “It’s got nothing to do with them. I just need some quiet time.”
“Sure. Quiet time.”
“I told you earlier that I haven’t gotten any real painting done since I got here. If I go home with you tonight, I probably won’t get to work until noon or later.”