Dawn in Eclipse Bay (25 page)

“Those were your exact words?”

Mitchell thought back to the conversation in the greenhouse. “Pretty close.”

“Did Lillian imply that she intended to, uh, stomp all over my heart?” Gabe asked.

What the hell was it about this time of day? The shift from day to night always seemed to take forever.

“In a manner of speaking,” he said.

Gabe gazed steadily at the road unwinding in front of the car. “Doesn't sound like something Lillian would say. What were her precise words, Mitch?”

“Well, she got irritated when I told her that I didn't want you gettin' hurt. Said something about how she was the one who stood to get stomped on account of everyone was so sure you were after her because you wanted a chunk of Harte Investments.”

Gabe nodded. “I can see where she'd get that impression. Lot of people have been saying that lately.”

“Natural assumption, under the circumstances.”

“Probably.”

“I told her that was garbage. Said you were a Madison and Madisons never marry for money. Not that practical, when you get right down to it.”

“Good point.” Gabe waited a beat. “So, how did she respond to that observation?”

“She reminded me how everyone said that you were a different kind of Madison. I told her you were different, but not that different.”

“What else did she say?”

“Well, let's see. I believe I may have pointed out that Madison Commercial is your passion and that when it comes to a Madison and his passion—”

“Nothing gets in the way. Yeah, right, I've heard that. She say anything else?”

The transition to night was complete at last. The phantom images receded into the darkness.

Mitchell exhaled slowly. “Seemed to think I'd maybe given you the wrong impression.”

“About what?”

“About what you've done with Madison Commercial.”

Gabe's hands tightened a little on the wheel. “For the past year and a half you've been telling me that I've spent too much time fooling around with the company. Maybe you were right.”

Mitchell had to swallow twice to keep from sputtering. “Shoot and damn, son, you built that company from the ground up. You sweated blood to prove something to the whole damn world.”

“What did I prove?”

“You know what you proved. Hell, after you created Madison Commercial no one could say that every Madison who came along was doomed to screw up everything he touched.”

“You consider that a major accomplishment?”

“Damn right, I do.” He stared at the road. “More important than you'll ever know.”

“How so?”

“Because after Madison Commercial, folks had to quit sayin' that I had screwed up both my grandsons' lives the same way I had messed up your father's life.”

A crystalline silence enveloped the front seat of the car.

“Did people really say that?” Gabe asked after a while. “To your face?”

“Some said it to my face. Most folks said it behind my back. They were all pretty much agreed that I wasn't fit to raise you and Rafe after Sinclair killed himself and your mother on that damn motorcycle.”

“Huh.”

“They said I set a piss-poor example for a couple of young boys.” He rubbed his jaw. “To tell you the truth, they were right. But what the hell was I gonna do? Not like there was anyone else around to take over the job.”

“You could have walked out. Disappeared. Let the social workers deal with us.”

“Bullshit. You don't turn your grandkids over to the state to raise.”

“Some people would.”

“Madisons don't do stuff like that.”

Gabe smiled slightly. “Got it.”

Mitchell suddenly realized that he wanted to explain things, but he didn't know how to go about it. He wasn't good at this kind of situation. He groped for the right words.

“The point I'm trying to make,” he said, “is that you were smart enough not to follow my bad example. You made something of yourself, Gabe. When you built M.C. you broke the Madison curse or jinx or whatever that made us all failures.”

“No.”

“What the hell do you mean? That's exactly what you did and don't you ever forget it.”

“It wasn't me who broke the jinx,” Gabe said. “It was you.”

“Me?”

“Don't you get it? You're the one who changed after Dad's death. And when you changed, you altered the future for Rafe and me.”

Lillian stopped the car in the drive, opened the door and checked her watch in the weak overhead light. Just after seven. There was no sign of Gabe and Mitchell yet but they would be here any minute. Gabe had called her from the outskirts of town a short while ago.

She had left the porch light on as well as several lamps inside the house. The cottage was illuminated with a warm, welcoming glow. Keys in hand, she collected the two sacks of groceries she had picked up at Fulton's Supermarket and went up the porch steps. With a little jockeying, she managed to get the front door open without having to put down one of the grocery bags.

She walked into the front hall, kicked the door shut and wrestled her burdens into the kitchen. The house felt unaccountably cold.

She was certain she had left the thermostat set at a comfortable temperature.

An uneasy feeling drifted through her. There had been a cold draft in the mudroom the night someone had broken in.

She went to the door and studied the living room. Nothing appeared to be disturbed. Maybe she had left an upstairs window open a crack.

But the draft was not coming from the staircase. It emanated from the downstairs hall.

Her studio.

Galvanized, she rushed toward the guest bedroom. As soon as she turned the corner she saw that the door stood partially ajar, just as she remembered leaving it earlier. But through the narrow opening she could see that something was very wrong inside her studio.

A chill that had nothing to do with the draft of cold air went through her. With a sense of deep dread, she pushed the door open wide.

The studio was in chaos. The blank canvas on the easel had been ripped to shreds. Rags, brushes, and knives were scattered across the floor. There was paint everywhere. The contents of several tubes of paint had been smeared across one wall and the floor. Her palette lay upside down on the bed. Pages of drawings had been ripped from her sketchbook and crumpled into balls.

She finally identified the source of the cold draft. It came through the broken window.

Gabe felt everything inside him turn to stone when he saw Sean Valentine's SUV parked in the drive.

Then he saw Lillian standing on the front porch talking to Valentine, and allowed himself to start breathing again.

He hit the breaks and switched off the engine. “Something's wrong.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” Mitchell surveyed the scene on the porch. “Not like Sean to be running around at this time of night unless there's trouble.”

Gabe got the Jag's door open. He loped toward the steps. Sean and Lillian looked at him.

“What happened?” Gabe asked.

“Looks like Lillian had another visit from whoever broke in the other night,” Sean said.

“He vandalized my studio this time,” Lillian said shakily.

Mitchell came up the steps with his cane. He frowned at Lillian. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.” She smiled wanly. “But he made a mess. The floor, the bedspread, the wall. Everything's covered in paint.”

Sean looked serious. “Didn't think too much of your idea that this guy Witley might be stalking her, Madison. But after seeing what he did to that bedroom, I'm inclined to agree with you. Let's go inside and see what we've got.”

“We've got jack squat, that's what we've got,” Mitchell announced an hour later when they finally got around to dinner. He squinted at Lillian. “How the heck did you get into so much trouble running a matchmaking business?”

“Darned if I know.” She picked up her wineglass.

“Friend of mine told me that the business was a lawsuit waiting to happen. But no one warned me about stalkers.”

“Well, don't you worry about it too much.” Mitchell tackled his stir-fry vegetables with gusto. “One thing to be a stalker in Portland where no one notices a guy hanging around places he shouldn't be hanging around. Another thing to do your stalking here in Eclipse Bay where a stranger gets noticed, especially at this time of year.”

“He's right,” Gabe said. “If Witley's in town, Sean Valentine will find him quickly.”

“Meanwhile, you'll be okay,” Mitchell added. “Gabe here will watch over you.”

Lillian looked at Gabe.

He gave her his sexy grin. “Won't let you out of my sight.”

She contemplated the wine in her glass. “The thing is, even if Sean does find Witley, what can he do? I've heard it's tough to prove a charge of stalking.”

Gabe and Mitchell exchanged silent looks.

She frowned. “What?”

Gabe shrugged. “Don't worry about Witley. If Sean can't do anything, Mitch and I will think of something.”

Her hand tensed around the glass. “Such as?”

“Us Madisons are pretty creative,” Mitchell assured her cheerfully.

She looked at each of them in turn. Another small chill wafted through her. They were both smiling, easy, laid-back Madison smiles. Probably trying to reassure her. But there was something very different going on in their eyes. Something very dangerous.

She did not argue when Gabe suggested that they go back to his place after dinner. The idea of leaving the cottage undefended made her uneasy but the notion of actually spending the night there gave her the jitters. She knew that she would not sleep.

When she emerged from the bathroom she found him standing at the bedroom window, gazing out into the night. He wore a pair of jeans but nothing else. The sleek, muscled contours of his bare back and shoulders made her fingers itch for a pencil and some drawing paper. Other parts of her were tingling, too, she noticed.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I had an interesting conversation with Mitch on the way back to Eclipse Bay this evening.” He did not turn around. “Apparently Madison Commercial is more important to him than he likes to admit.”

“Oh.” She tightened the sash of her bathrobe and sank down on the end of the bed. “I could have told you that.”

“He said it was proof to the world that he hadn't screwed up completely with Rafe and me.”

She thought about it. “I can see where he might view your success as a sign that he hadn't botched the job of raising you. What did you say?”

Gabe let the curtain fall and turned around to face her. “That he was the reason Rafe and I made it at all.”

“Ah, yes.”

“It's the truth. I've known it for years but I don't think I ever told him.”

“Madison Commercial is important to your grandfather, but you and Rafe mean a lot more to him than the company does.”

Gabe sat down beside her, leaned forward and clasped his hands loosely between his knees. He contemplated their images in the mirror above the chest of drawers.

“He really is afraid you'll break my heart,” Gabe said.

She managed a soft little laugh. “Did you assure him that's not very likely?”

Gabe said nothing.

She stilled. “Gabe?”

“What?”

“You didn't allow him to think that I could really break your heart, did you?”

“Well, sure.” He said it carelessly, easily, casually. As if it were an incontrovertible fact. “I'm a Madison.”

She stopped breathing altogether for the space of a couple of heartbeats. With concentration she managed to drag some oxygen into her lungs.

“Is this your subtle, roundabout way of telling me that you see our relationship as something more than just a short-term affair?” she whispered.

“It's been something more than just an affair for me right from the start.”

She could hardly speak. “But I thought we had agreed that we aren't a good match.”

He shrugged. “You Hartes probably worry about things like that more than we Madisons do.”

“You're supposed to be a different kind of Madison.”

He straightened and reached for her, pushed her gently down onto the bed. He leaned forward and kissed her throat.

“Not that different,” he said.

The following morning they went back to the cottage together to clean up the studio. There was a message from Nella on the answering machine. It was short and to the point.

“Call me.”

Lillian grabbed the phone and punched in the number.

“What have you got?” she asked without preamble.

“Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you since six o'clock this morning.”

Lillian glanced at Gabe. “Out. I was out.”

“Is that so?” Nella sounded amused. “Wouldn't have thought there was enough going on in Eclipse Bay to keep a jaded city girl out all night.”

“Nella—”

“I found Witley,” Nella said, brisk and businesslike now. “He has a rock-solid alibi for the entire time that you've been in Eclipse Bay.”

“What is it?”

“He and a pal are down in the Caribbean doing some diving. They're registered at a hotel on Saint Thomas. I checked with some of the local dive shops and I called his room. He was there, Lil. No way he could have flown back to Oregon, driven to Eclipse Bay yesterday and then returned to the island this morning in time to take my call.”

“I see.” Lillian looked at Gabe, who was listening intently to her side of the conversation. “I'm not sure if that's good news or bad news because it means we have to start from scratch. But thanks for checking him out.”

“Sure. By the way, apparently whatever you said to him on the street that day made an impact. I had a long conversation with him. He said he realized that maybe you'd been right about how he needed an outdoor type, not one of those highbrow arty types.”

Lillian groaned. “He used the term
arty
?”

“Uh-huh. He now agrees with you that he and Heather Summers were not made for each other after all.”

“Well, what do you know.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Not just yet, but stay tuned.”

Nella hesitated. “Can you think of anyone else besides Witley who might want to harass you? Any old boyfriends hanging around?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“You know better than anyone else what my social life has been like for the past year, Nella. Boring doesn't even begin to describe it.”

Gabe raised a brow. She ignored him.

“We in the investigation business have a saying,” Nella continued. “When the picture doesn't make sense, draw a new one. Maybe you should look at these incidents from another perspective.”

“Problem is, I can't see any other angle here.”

Nella hesitated. “You know, if it weren't for the trashing of your studio yesterday, I'd say that someone had broken into your apartment and your cottage to look for something.”

“I can't imagine what it could be. I told you, nothing was taken.”

“The pieces of this puzzle aren't fitting well together, Lil. Be careful.”