Jayne Krentz: Dawn in Eclipse Bay

Heads nodded around the table.

Lillian cleared her throat. “Uh, what is that?”

“It’s obvious. She must have seen somethin’ she wasn’t supposed to see up there at the institute. Probably stumbled into the underground lab. They faked an accident to try to get rid of her. Lucky for her they botched the job.”

Lillian looked at Gabe. “And you say you don’t believe in karma.”

“I stand corrected,” Gabe said. “Learn something new everyday.”

He took her arm and steered her back through the curtain into the main room. Several pairs of eyes followed them as they made their way to the small table where Mitchell and Sullivan sat with Bryce and Sean.

Lillian leaned down to give Sullivan a kiss on his cheek. “ ’Morning, Granddad.”

“Good morning, honey.”

Gabe nodded at Mitchell and Sullivan. “Glad to see that the two of you didn’t knock each other’s teeth out last night.”

“When you get to be this age,” Sullivan said, “you have to think twice about risking your teeth. Not that many good ones left.”

She greeted the others and sat down beside Sullivan.

“Arizona give you her version of the accident?” Mitchell asked Gabe.

Gabe set his coffee and partially eaten corn bread down on the table and took one of the chairs. “All part of the big conspiracy up at the institute, according to A.Z.”

Sullivan chuckled.

“Got to admit that her take on local news is always a lot more interesting than mine,” Sean allowed.

“So it was an accident?” Lillian asked.

“Definitely.” Sean took a bite out of a large, jelly-filled pastry. “She must have been in a real hurry to get out of town. Had to be doing seventy when she took that curve out by the Erickson place.”

Bryce shook his head in solemn disapproval. “Everyone knows that’s a real bad curve.”

“The medics who pulled her out of the car said she was spittin’ mad when they got to her.” Sean swallowed the bite of pastry and reached for his coffee. “Kept saying something about how unfair it all was.”

On the night of the reception at the Eclipse Bay branch of the Bright Visions Gallery, Sullivan stood with Mitchell, a glass of champagne in his hand, and watched the large crowd ebb and flow around Lillian and her paintings. Warm pride flowed through him.

“Not like it was in Portland last week,” Mitchell observed. “Only press here is from the Journal. But, what the heck, Eclipse Bay isn’t exactly the art capital of the western world.”

“Portland was all about publicity and media coverage,” Sullivan reminded him. “It worked just like Octavia Brightwell said it would. It introduced Lillian to important collectors and the museum and gallery crowd. But this event is special for Eclipse Bay.”

“And they’re lovin’ it.” Mitchell grinned. “Look at ’em, all dressed up and swilling champagne. I doubt if a lot of these folks know much about art, but they’re sure having a good time.”

The throng that filled the gallery was composed largely of local townsfolk. Everyone from the Willis brothers to the strangely dressed group from Incandescent Body had turned out. Sullivan had a hunch that it wasn’t a keen interest in art that had brought so many of the residents of Eclipse Bay out on a wet night. The driving motivation for this crowd was its lively curiosity about Hartes and Madisons. Everyone knew that both families would be in town for the event and they were all well aware that Gabe and Lillian were engaged.

The free drinks and hors d’oeuvres were just icing on the cake as far as most folks were concerned tonight.

“Who would have thought that a Harte would turn out to be an artist?” Mitchell said.

“Who would have believed that anyone in your family could create a profitable business like Madison Commercial?”

“Gotta say that Octavia sure knows how to give a party.” Mitchell helped himself to a cheese canapé. “First class all the way, too. Lot of people here tonight wouldn’t have noticed or cared if she had served cheap champagne and second-rate food. But she pulled out all the stops, same as she did for the Portland crowd.”

“Showing respect for the locals.” Sullivan nodded. “Very smart. Good public relations.”

“She’s a smart young woman. But she’s real, too, if you know what I mean. She didn’t put on this bash just for publicity purposes. She did it because she really wanted to show folks that she appreciates them as much as she does the Portland crowd.”

Sullivan took a sip of his champagne. “I’ll buy that.”

“Huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Can’t help noticing that she and your grandson, Nick, are having themselves a mighty serious conversation over there.”

Sullivan followed his gaze, searching for the pair over the heads of the crowd. He spotted Nick, dressed in formal black and white, standing with Octavia on the far side of the gallery.

The conversation looked more than serious, he thought. It had a close, intimate quality. Nick had one hand casually flattened on the wall behind Octavia’s head. He leaned slightly in toward her, his broad shoulders angled in a way that subtly but effectively cut her off from the crowd around them. Sullivan recognized the body language and knew that every other man in the room understood it too, if only on a subconscious level. It was a clear statement of possession, a this-woman-is-mine-tonight message.

“Oh, brother,” he said softly. “Here we go again.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you,” Mitchell said cheerfully. “Like I said, Octavia’s a nice young woman.”

“Red hair.”

“So what? You got a problem with red hair?”

“There’s something familiar about her, Mitch.”

“You’ve seen her before. She attended Hannah and Rafe’s wedding. And you met her at the Portland reception last week.”

“No, I mean something really familiar.”

“Like what?”

“The red hair, the profile. The way she holds herself. Take a good look, man. She remind you of anyone?”

Mitchell studied Octavia for a long time.

“Well, shoot and damn,” he said at last. “She’s a dead ringer, isn’t she? Funny, I never noticed before.”

“Might explain why you took to her right off, though.”

“Well, shoot and damn,” Mitchell said again, this time sounding dazed. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Beats me,” Sullivan said. “But I figure this isn’t a coincidence.”

“Nope.” An expression of bemused wonder gleamed in Mitchell’s eyes. “No coincidence. Tell you one thing, Nick better behave himself with her.”

“What business is it of yours, how he behaves?”

“Octavia’s alone in the world. No family to protect her.”

“So you’re going to take on the job, is that it?” Sullivan asked.

“Someone’s gotta do it. That grandson of yours has a reputation for playing it fast and loose with the ladies.”

“He just hasn’t found the right woman to take Amelia’s place.”

“Way I hear it, he’s not lookin’ real hard for a wife,” Mitchell observed. “Seems like he prefers a more casual arrangement with his lady friends, one that doesn’t involve rings and a ceremony and a commitment. I hear tell they call him Hardhearted Harte in some circles.”

“Damn it, my grandson’s love life isn’t any of your business.”

“I won’t let him take advantage of Octavia, got that?” Mitchell set his jaw. “She’s not gonna be just another one of his short-term flings. You better set him real straight on that score or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Glumly, Sullivan studied the pair on the other side of the room.