Summer in Eclipse Bay (26 page)

Octavia made it to the end of the counter and grabbed hold of it to steady herself. “Good lord.”

“Of course, Eugene didn't put it in precisely those words.” Jeremy glanced at Nick for confirmation. “Don't think he used the words
bemused
and
befuddled,
did he?”

“No,” Nick said. “I believe what Eugene said was that Octavia was
screwing me senseless.
”

Jeremy shook his head. “Don't think he said
senseless,
either. Maybe it was
screwing your brains out.
”

“Right.” Nick raised a cup in a small salute. “That was it. He said that Octavia was
screwing my brains out
in an effort to distract me from my investigation.”

Jeremy turned to Octavia. “There was also some question about the naturalness of your red hair. Naturally, Nick could not let Eugene and Dickhead get away with talking about a lady in such crude terms. Hence the bar brawl.”

Octavia clutched the counter, feeling dazed and disoriented. She looked at Nick, hoping he would tell her it was all just a big joke. “The brawl really did start because of me?”

“Don't worry about the gossip,” Nick said, dismissing the entire event with another shrug. “It'll blow over in a few days.”

“Are you kidding?” Jeremy asked. “Folks around here still talk about the big fight between your grandfather and Mitchell Madison that took place outside of Fulton's decades ago. What makes you think that forty or fifty years from now, they won't be telling the story of what happened last night at the Total Eclipse?”

“Jeremy's right,” Gail said. “You're a Harte, Nick, and Octavia is related to the woman who sparked the original Harte-Madison feud. Trust me, the legend of the big brawl at the Total Eclipse will live on forever.”

Jeremy nodded in agreement. “Mostly because there's so little to talk about in a small town like this.”

“Well, it's only to be expected, I suppose. You do know she is related to that Claudia Banner woman. The one who started the Harte-Madison feud all those years ago.”

Octavia froze in the act of putting the six-pack of bottled spring water in the basket of the supermarket cart. The voice came from the next aisle over, the one labeled
Canned Veg & Beans.

“My Hank said there hasn't been a brawl like that at the Total Eclipse in ages. Not since that biker club came through town three years back. Fred claims that there was a couple of thousand dollars worth of damage done in the pool room last night.”

She recognized the voices now. Megan Grayson and Sandra Finley. Both women had come into Bright Visions to browse on occasion and both served on the Summer Celebration committee.

“If you ask me, Fred's just taking advantage of a golden opportunity,” Megan said. “One of the Willis brothers told my husband that Fred has been thinking about repainting the Total Eclipse for years. He put it off because he was too cheap to pay for the job. But he knows he can get the money out of Nick Harte and Jeremy Seaton now, so why not go for it?”

“You have to wonder why Nick and Jeremy were playing pool together in the first place. Those two haven't had much to do with each other in a couple of years. Not since Jeremy's divorce, in fact. Everyone assumed they'd had a falling out of some kind.”

“And then they both went and dated Octavia Brightwell here in Eclipse Bay.” Sandra made a disapproving noise that sounded a lot like the clucking of a chicken. “That can't have helped the situation. In fact, you'd have thought that those two would have been at each other's throats by now. Nothing like a woman coming between two men to cause trouble.”

“Well, from all accounts they were on the same side in that bar fight last night. Sounds like they must have settled their differences.”

“Who would have thought a Harte and a Seaton would get into a barroom brawl? Oh, sure, you expect that sort of thing from a Madison, but I always thought the Hartes and the Seatons were a lot more refined.”

“Don't you believe that for one moment,” Megan said. “Remember, it was Sullivan Harte who got into that fistfight with Mitch Madison all those years ago and launched the feud. And from what I've heard, the Seatons aren't all saints, either. I can imagine how poor Edith must feel today. They say she's absolutely beside herself this morning because of what happened last night. Didn't even open her shop. Probably can't face the gossip.”

“More likely she can't stand to be civil to Octavia Brightwell,” Sandra said. “I mean, everyone knows that Octavia was the cause of the fight that involved Edith's precious grandson.”

“Edith has always been so proud of Jeremy. I swear his divorce hit her harder than it did him. She was so thrilled that he'd married into such a
fine
family, remember? Not that the
fine
family ever gave her the time of day, as far as I could tell. Word had it that they encouraged the divorce.”

“And now he's involved in a free-for-all at the Total Eclipse. No wonder she doesn't want to show her face in public today.”

“By the way, you did hear that Nick Harte spent the night with Octavia Brightwell?”

“I certainly did. His car was seen leaving her place at eight o'clock this morning.”

Megan giggled. “Word is, she may have broken the curse.”

“I think it's a lot more likely that Nick Harte is having himself a little fun this summer. It'll end when he goes back to Portland.”

“If you ask me, it's Octavia Brightwell who ought to go into hiding. She should be ashamed of herself. When you stop and think about it, she's the real problem here.”

“A real troublemaker,” Sandra agreed. “Back in high school we had a name for women like that.”

That does it, I've had enough,
Octavia thought. She wheeled her cart around the corner and started down Canned Veg & Beans.

“Good morning, Sandra. Megan.” She gave both women a brilliant smile. “Lovely day, isn't it?”

Sandra and Megan hushed instantly. They gripped the handles of their shopping carts and stared at her as though she had materialized out of thin air.

“I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.” Octavia jerked her own cart to a halt a short distance away and blocked the aisle with it. “And I am very curious to find out exactly what word you had for
women like me
back in high school, Sandra.”

Sandra Finley turned an unpleasant shade of red. “I don't know what you're talking about. You must have misunderstood.”

“She's right,” Megan said quickly. “You didn't hear her correctly.” She looked triumphant. “It never pays to eavesdrop, you know.”

“Hard to avoid hearing you two, since you insist upon discussing me in the middle of a grocery store aisle.”

“You'll have to excuse me.” Megan glanced at her watch. “I've got a committee meeting at three.”

“So do I,” Sandra said. She tightened her grip on the cart handle.

Octavia did not shift her shopping cart out of their path. “You know, speaking of names that we used back in high school, I remember one that fits both of you perfectly. Rhymes with rich.”

Sandra got her jaw back into place. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

“I really don't have time for this,” Megan said.

Having concluded that she could not go forward, she swung her shopping cart into a tight U-turn. And promptly banged into Sandra's cart. The baskets jammed together. The wheels snagged, making it impossible for either woman to maneuver out of the aisle.

Octavia surveyed her captive audience. “Now, then, I have a suggestion. Since the two of you are obviously going to spend the rest of the day spreading gossip, what do you say we take a few minutes to get one particular fact straight?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Sandra said stiffly.

Octavia ignored that. “For the record, Nick Harte did
not
leave my cottage at eight o'clock this morning. That is a flat-out lie.”

Megan and Sandra looked at her, suddenly rapt. Neither said a word.

“He left at precisely seven thirty-five,” Octavia said coolly. “I remember, because we had just finished breakfast together and I turned on the radio to catch the morning news.”

Megan and Sandra blinked.

Octavia smiled. “Hey, you know what? I'll bet that
women like you
are the sort who will appreciate a few of the more intimate details about my relationship with Nick. I'm sure there are probably all kinds of stories going around about us and the techniques I used to break the curse.”

Megan and Sandra's jaws dropped.

Octavia leaned forward, bracing her arms on the handle of her cart, and assumed a confidential air. “I imagine you'd like to hear just how I did it, wouldn't you? Are you ready for this? I made poached eggs and toast for Nick's breakfast.”

A thunderous hush fell on the adjoining aisles. It seemed to Octavia that the whole of Fulton's had suddenly gone silent.

“My secret is a little Dijon mustard on the toast under the eggs.” She winked. “Trust me, it really adds some zip. You should have seen Nick's face when I put that plate down in front of him. Talk about a man who looks like he thinks he's died and gone to heaven.”

Megan and Sandra were no longer watching her. Their gazes were riveted on a point just beyond her shoulder.

I'm getting an audience,
Octavia thought. Terrific. Another little scene, the details of which would be all over town by sundown. The really interesting thing was that she did not give a damn. Not right now at any rate. Right now she was on a roll.

“If you think that the thing with the mustard is kinky, wait until I tell you how Nick got his coffee this morning,” she said in a gossipy tone. “Talk about getting down to the good stuff. So, there we were, sitting at the breakfast table and I can tell that he's ready for a second cup, you know? I mean, he's
really, really
ready for it. Wow. This man is
hot
for another cup, if you get my drift.”

“Might be a good idea to give everyone some time to cool off before you tell them about the coffee thing,” Nick said behind her. He sounded amused, but there was the barest hint of a warning in his voice. “I'm not sure Eclipse Bay is ready for the details of my second cup of coffee.”

She spun around. Reality came back with a jarring thud.

“I think it might be a good idea to check out now,” he said.

She wondered just how big a fool she had made of herself. He was right. This was a very, very good time to check out.

“Okay.” She whipped the cart around and headed for the checkout counter, leaving Sandra and Megan still tangled up in Canned Veg & Beans.

“I hope you don't mind me interrupting back there,” Nick said, falling into step beside her. “It's just that some things are personal, you know? That stuff about the second cup of coffee? That's special to a sensitive guy like me.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Nick, you didn't even have a second cup of coffee this morning and you know it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. Can't you remember what you had for breakfast?”

“It's all a blur after the eggs and mustard.”

At four o'clock that afternoon he went back to the gallery to check on Octavia. She had looked good during the scene with Sandra and Megan at Fulton's, but underneath he thought he had detected some additional strain.

“She's not here,” Gail said the instant he walked through the door. “She went home early.”

“She never goes home early,” Nick said.

“She did today.”

He was getting more concerned by the minute. “Is she okay?”

“I don't think so.” Gail exhaled deeply. “She's lived in town off and on for over a year and she's been hanging out a lot with Hartes and Madisons, but that doesn't mean she's completely acclimated to our quaint little traditions here in Eclipse Bay. In spite of the way she handled Sandra and Megan, I think she's a lot more upset about the gossip that is going around than she's letting on.”

Nick frowned. “You really think it's bothering her? Seemed like she was dealing with it fairly well earlier.”

Gail watched him very steadily. “The brawl last night was bad enough. But the fact that everyone is talking about how you spent the night at her place is a real problem, I think.”

“Why? Everyone knows that we're seeing each other. It's no secret. She's aware of that.”

“No offense, but I do believe that you're missing the point here,” Gail said. “You were seen driving away from her cottage at eight o'clock this morning.”

“Seven thirty-five, and so somebody noticed my car coming from the direction of her cottage early this morning. So what? Not the first time.”

“Yes, it is, as a matter of fact.”

“You're right, I am missing something here. You want to run that by me again?”

Gail picked up a stack of brochures announcing the Children's Art Show and made a pretense of straightening them. “Eight o'clock or, to be precise, seven thirty-five, is well after dawn at this time of year.”

“What about it?”

“Pay attention, Nick.” She slapped the brochures back down on the counter. “The word has gone out that Octavia has broken the curse.”

“Yeah? So?”

“You do know about the curse, don't you?”

“That idiotic story about me that claims that I never spend the entire night with a woman?” He waved that aside. “I've heard about it, sure.”

“Well?” she demanded.

“It probably got started because I've never left Carson with a sitter overnight. But it doesn't follow that I never have any nights to myself. Carson stays with family once in a while. He's with his grandfather and his great-grand-father and Lillian and Gabe at the moment. Leaving me free to do as I please at night.”

“So, does that mean that you
do
sometimes spend the entire night with a woman with whom you're romantically involved?” Gail asked with disconcerting interest.

“Guys don't get
romantically
involved.”

“What do they get?”

“Involved, period.”

“Oh, sure, I knew that. So, do you sometimes spend the entire night with women with whom you're
involved, period
?”

“You know, I didn't come here to discuss my love life with a woman who has Very Big Hair.”

“That was a low blow.” Gail patted the rigid outer layer of her voluminous hairdo. “I was only carrying out my assignment.”

“Yeah.” Nick went toward the door. “Too bad you didn't learn anything useful about that damned painting.”

Gail straightened her shoulders and held her chin high. “In the long run, I feel that I discovered something infinitely more important.”

“Such as?”

“The name of the woman who broke the curse on Hardhearted Harte.”

He went out onto the sidewalk and slammed the door closed.

Twenty minutes later he stood on the bluff above the small, crescent-shaped beach, looking down. She was sitting on a rock, knees drawn up under a long, geranium-red skirt, her face hidden beneath the wide brim of a big straw hat. The now-familiar flicker of intense awareness crackled through him, tightening his belly and heating his blood.

It was a deeply sensual feeling, but he could not slap the label
great sex
on this and let it go at that. He had known that from the beginning.

He watched her there in the sunlight, her skirt fluttering a little in the breeze, her gracefully rounded arms wrapped around her knees, and he finally understood.

This strange, bone-deep sensation that he always experienced when he thought about her or when he was in her vicinity wasn't merely desire or anticipation. It was a sense of connection. In some manner that he knew he would probably never fully comprehend, he was linked to her now.

He had never known this particular kind of bond, he realized. Perhaps it would have developed eventually with Amelia if they had had more time and if he had not screwed things up by quitting Harte Investments and if she had not turned to an old lover when the chips were down.

No. It would never have been like this with Amelia. It could never be like this with anyone else.

Maybe the rumors were right. Maybe he had been under some kind of curse.

But what was the point of being freed if he lost the lady who had the magic touch?

She turned slightly, obviously aware that someone was on the bluff behind her. The straw brim of the hat tilted at an angle and he caught a glimpse of her face. She had on a pair of dark glasses. He could not read her expression but he got the distinct impression that she was not overly thrilled to see him. She was certainly not waving.

He found the path that led to the beach and went down it swiftly. Tiny pebbles scattered before him.

When he got to the bottom he walked toward Octavia feeling as if he were walking toward his destiny. She did not take off her sunglasses. It occurred to him that he was still wearing his, too. Neither of them could tell what the other was thinking, he realized.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Gail was worried about you. She said you'd left the shop in a hurry.”

“There's nothing to be concerned about. I just wanted to get away for a while. I need to think.”

He sat down beside her on the broad, sun-warmed rock. Close enough to be intensely conscious of her nearness; not quite touching. A curious kind of panic started to gnaw at his insides. She really was upset. He was not sure how to deal with it.

“I'm sorry the three of us gave you so much grief this morning,” he said. “We were just teasing you.”

“I know.”

“I realize these past few days have been rough on you. You're not accustomed to being the subject of local gossip.”

“It's not that.”

“People were bound to talk after it got out that we were seeing each other,” he said. “But the gossip will fade when folks get used to the idea.”

“I don't particularly care what people think of our relationship.”

That did not sound good, he thought. He turned his head to get a better look at her profile. She remained enigmatic behind the shields of her dark glasses.

“You don't care that everyone's discussing our relationship down at the beauty parlor and in the aisles at Fulton's?” he asked carefully.

She unclasped her knees and braced her arms behind her, flattening her palms on the rock. “Well, it feels a little strange to be the subject of so much local interest, but I've had plenty of opportunity to see how the Hartes and the Madisons handle that sort of situation. I thought I was dealing with it very well.”

“You are,” he agreed immediately. “You're handling it beautifully.”

“And, as you just said, the talk will fade in time.”

“Sure.” He mentally crossed his fingers. “Eventually.”

She said nothing else; just sat there, gazing thoughtfully out over the bay.

“So,” he said when he could no longer stand the suspense. “If it's not the fact that everyone is chatting about how I spent the night at your place that's bothering you, what, exactly, is the problem here?”

“The bar fight last night.”

He exhaled slowly. “I was afraid it might be that. Look, I'm sorry it happened, but it was just a case of a bunch of guys who'd been drinking some beer and got carried away. Not the first time it's happened at the Total Eclipse, and it sure as hell won't be the last.”

“I realize that.” She finally turned her head to look directly at him. “But it is the first time anyone has ever gotten into a fight on account of me.”

Dread settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. “Okay, so you're accustomed to dating a classier sort of guy. The type who doesn't get into bar brawls. Would it help if I told you that I don't make a habit of that kind of thing?”

She just looked at him for a small eternity. Her mouth twitched a couple of times.

And then she was laughing so hard that tears started to run down her face beneath the rims of her dark glasses.

He watched her for a while, fascinated. “Did I say something funny?”

“Yes.” She yanked off the dark glasses and dried her eyes on the sleeve of her gold shirt. “Yes, you said something very, very funny.”

“You know you're losing it when you don't get your own jokes.”

She pulled herself together with a visible effort. The laughter faded into giggles and then shrank into a wide smile. Her eyes were warm and clear and bright with the remnants of her amusement.

“You're not losing it,” she said. “We're just not quite in synch here. What I was trying to tell you is that I have never considered myself the type of woman who is capable of launching a barroom brawl.”

“You're not.”

“You're wrong. Clearly I must be that type because I did ignite that fight last night. The facts are on the record from dozens of witnesses, apparently.”

He winced. “This is one of those no-win situations, isn't it? Any way I respond, I screw up big time.”

She ignored that. “I like it.”

“What? That I'm trapped in a lose-lose scenario?”

“No, that I'm the type of woman who has what it takes to spark a tavern brawl.”

“Huh.”

“I also like being the type of woman who inspires gossip in the beauty shop and creates great excitement in the supermarket aisles.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The type who ties men up in bed.”

“And the type who lets herself be tied up in bed,” he reminded her.

“That, too. Aunt Claudia would be so proud.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. She was always telling me that I had to stop trying so hard to smooth things over and fix things. She said I should learn to raise a little hell. I'm starting to wonder if maybe that's the real reason she sent me here to Eclipse Bay. Not to repair the damage she did but to discover this other side of myself.”

“Interesting theory.”

“The thing is, how could she have guessed that I'd get into so much trouble if I got tangled up with you Hartes and those Madisons? You think maybe there really was something to all that stuff about auras and New Age metaphysics that she studied during the last years of her life?”

He folded his arms on his knees and savored the sense of relief that was washing through him. Octavia wasn't sunk in depression. She wasn't even pissed off. There was still hope.

“Wouldn't take a lot of metaphysical intuition and aura reading to figure out that sending you here to get involved with Hartes and Madisons would get you into trouble,” he said. “A woman as smart as Claudia Banner would have been able to predict exactly what would happen.”

The following morning Nick scrawled his name on a check and pushed it across the bar. Beside him, Jeremy signed his check with an artistic flourish and put it on top of Nick's.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Fred snapped up both checks and put them into the cash register drawer. “Always a pleasure doing business with you. You're welcome back to the Total Eclipse any time. I like to encourage a high-class clientele.”

“I don't think we'll be able to afford to come back often,” Jeremy grumbled.

Fred contrived to look hurt. “This is the thanks I get for dropping all the charges?”

“You know damn well we didn't do two thousand dollars' worth of damage here the other night.” Jeremy waved a hand to indicate the shabby surroundings. “Hell, the joint doesn't look any different than it did before things got exciting.”

“You ruined my walls.”

“Right, the walls.” Nick lounged on a bar stool and folded his arms. He glanced toward the far end of the room, where the Willis brothers were busy with a tape measure and a clipboard.