Dawn in Eclipse Bay (6 page)

“No problem. Got any plans for tonight?”

“I'll be packing.”

“Packing takes energy. You need to eat. Why don't you have dinner with Charles and me?”

“I'll bring the wine.”

At five-thirty that afternoon, Lillian sank into a deeply cushioned chair in the living room of Nella's apartment and kicked off her shoes.

“I'm exhausted. It took an entire day to pack up that office. I thought I'd be finished by two o'clock. How can a person accumulate so much stuff in an office?”

“One of the great mysteries of life.”

Nella picked up the blue folder lying on the table and carried it across the room. She wore jeans and a deep yellow blouse with a spread collar. The gold necklace at her throat gleamed against her dark brown skin. She wore her black hair cut close to her head in a style that showed off her excellent bone structure.

She took the chair that faced Lillian's, curled one leg under her and opened the folder.

“I thought you told me all of your files were stored on the hard drive of your computer,” she said.

“The client files are on the computer along with the program, but that still leaves a lot of paper. Receipts, correspondence, notes to the janitorial staff, messages from the company that leased me the space, you name it. I had to go through every single item and make a decision about whether to keep it or toss it.” Lillian exhaled deeply. “But it's done and Private Arrangements is no longer in business.”

“Congratulations,” Nella said. “Feel good?”

“Yes, but I'll feel even better after you assure me that Campbell Witley is not a serial killer.”

“He looks squeaky clean to me.” Nella glanced at some of her notes. “Witley was in the military at one time, as you guessed. He received an honorable discharge. After leaving the service he took over his father's construction business and has been very successful. He was married for six years. Divorced. No children. No record of arrests, no outstanding warrants, no history of violence or abuse.”

“Just what I wanted to hear,” Lillian said.

“I also managed to get hold of his ex-wife. She said Witley was the domineering type and inclined to get a little loud at times, but she sounded shocked at the suggestion that he might turn violent. She said he was, and I quote, ‘harmless.'”

“Excellent.”

Nella closed the file and looked seriously at Lillian. “None of this means that he might not be dangerous under certain circumstances, you understand.”

“I know. But I suppose you could say that about any man.”

“True.” Nella pursed her lips. “This was a fairly superficial check. I didn't have time to go deep. Want me to continue looking in the morning?”

“No, I don't think it's necessary. If his ex-wife vouched for him, I'm satisfied. Thanks, Nella. I really appreciate it. I'll sleep better tonight.”

The sound of a key in the lock interrupted her.

Nella uncoiled from the chair. “That'll be Charles. Time to pour the wine.”

Lillian twisted in the chair to give Nella's husband a welcoming wave. Charles came through the door, a long paper sack with a loaf of bread peeking out of the top in one arm, a briefcase in his hand.

He was a slender black man with serious dark eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses and the air of an academic. He kissed his wife and released the bread to her custody. She disappeared into the kitchen.

Charles turned his slow smile on Lillian while he removed his jacket. “I hear we're celebrating the closure of Private Arrangements tonight.”

“Yep. I finally took the big step. I am now officially a full-time painter. Or officially unemployed, depending on your point of view.”

He nodded gravely. “This is going to put a dent in Nella's business, but I've told you all along, that matchmaking business of yours was nothing but a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Nella walked out of the kitchen with a tray of wine and cheese. She wrinkled her nose. “You're a lawyer, Charles. To you, just walking down the street is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“Dangerous places, streets.” Charles took one of the wineglasses off the tray and lifted it in a toast. “Here's to art.”

“I love what you've done with the guest rooms,” Lillian said. “Very spacious and airy.” She opened the French doors of the corner suite and stepped out onto the balcony. “Fabulous views, too. “

Her sister, Hannah, glanced around the suite with satisfaction and then followed Lillian outside into the chilly evening.

“It wasn't cheap getting plumbing into all of the rooms,” she said. “And installing balcony doors in each one was a major project but I think it will be worth it. Considering what we plan to charge for an overnight stay here at Dreamscape, Rafe and I have to be able to provide our guests with privacy and a sense of luxury.”

Lillian wrapped one hand around the railing. “You and Rafe are going to do it, aren't you? You're going to make this inn and restaurant idea work.”

Hannah looked amused. “You had doubts?”

“No, not really. You're both so committed to making a success of this venture that I knew you couldn't fail.”

“We owe it all to Great-Aunt Isabel.” Hannah smiled. “Although I must admit that when I first learned that she had left a half-interest in Dreamscape to Rafe in her will, I didn't feel quite so grateful.”

Lillian looked out across the bay. Night was closing in rapidly. The wind was picking up, bringing with it the unmistakable scent of rain off the sea. Another storm was approaching. She had always loved this time of year here on the rugged Oregon coast. The stark contrasts of the season appealed to the artist in her. The dark, blustery storms drove away the summer tourists, leaving the town to the locals.

The shops on the pier and the handful of small, casual eateries geared down for the long, quiet months. In summer the establishments were crowded with vacationers from Portland and Seattle. But when you went out to dinner in winter, you usually knew the folks sitting at the next table. If you didn't recognize them, they were probably students at nearby Chamberlain College or visitors attending a seminar at the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute. The think tank and the school were both located on the hillside overlooking the tiny town.

When they blew ashore, the wind-driven rains of winter churned the waters of the bay, created boiling cauldrons in the coves and lashed the weather-beaten cottages on the cliffs. The squalls were often separated by periods of bright, chilly sunlight and crisp, intensely clear air. There was an energy in winter that was very different from the moody, atmospheric, fog-bound summers, she thought.

The evening was still clear. From her perch on the balcony she could see straight across the curving expanse of the semi-circular bay to where a cluster of lights marked the location of the small town and the marina. Another string of lights identified the pier.

The sweeping arc of Bayview Drive followed the edge of the rocky beach. The road started just outside of town near Hidden Cove, which marked the northern tip of the bay. It linked the tiny community to the beach houses and cottages scattered loosely about on the bluffs. It continued past her parents' summer place and beyond Dreamscape, to terminate at Sundown Point, the bay's southern boundary.

It was a familiar landscape, Lillian reflected, one she had known all of her life. She had not spent a lot of time here in recent years, but that did not affect the strong sense of connection that had swept through her earlier this afternoon when she drove into town.

For three generations Hartes had been a part of this community. Their roots went deep here; as deep as those of the Madison men.

She hugged herself against the brisk night air. “Aunt Isabel knew all along that you and Rafe were meant for each other.”

“If that's true, she was certainly the only one who knew it.” Hannah shook her head. “Personally, I think it's far more likely that she just hoped to goodness we were meant for each other. It was her dream to resolve the feud. She saw Rafe and me as Romeo and Juliet with the right ending. She left us Dreamscape in an effort to make her fantasy of reconnecting the Hartes and the Madisons come true.”

“Either way, it worked out for you and Rafe.”

“Maybe she had a touch of your gift for matchmaking,” Hannah said lightly. “Could be it runs in the family.”

“I don't think so.”

“Okay, Lil, what's going on here? Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted to see you. I think it's great that you've decided to take some time off from work. But this is your sister, Hannah, remember? I know you haven't given me the whole story.”

There was no point trying to evade the questions, Lillian thought. Hannah knew her too well. They had always been close even though they were different in so many ways. Hannah was nearly two years younger but she had always been the more levelheaded and goal-oriented of the two. Hannah was the one who had always known where she was going; at least that had been the general opinion in the Harte family until she had stunned everyone by announcing that she intended to marry Rafe Madison and turn Dreamscape into an inn.

True to form, however, even that uncharacteristically wild decision had turned out to be a sound one. It was obvious that Rafe and Hannah were happy together and that they would make a success of the inn.

“I closed Private Arrangements,” Lillian said.

Hannah looked bemused. “For a few days? A couple of weeks? A month?”

“For good.”

Hannah took a long moment to absorb and process that announcement.

Then she gave a low, soft, tuneless whistle.

“Oh, my,” she said.

“I know.”

“Just when Mom and Dad were getting used to the idea of you being a professional matchmaker.”

“I'm not sure they would ever have come around completely, anyway.” Lillian sighed. “They still have a hard time telling their friends what I do for a living. In their minds my matchmaking enterprise was always a little suspect. Not nearly as respectable as that wedding consultant agency you owned before you decided to go into the inn business.”

“Okay, I'll agree that Mom and Dad thought the whole thing was a little flaky, but you were
successful
. They couldn't deny that. You have an impressive list of clients. All those new, wealthy software folks love the idea of computerized matchmaking. You were turning a serious profit and that counts for a lot in this family.”

“If Mom and Dad think matchmaking is flaky, I can't wait to hear what they'll say about my next career move.”

“Well?” Hannah tilted her head slightly. “Don't keep me in suspense.”

“It's a long story.”

“I want to hear every word of it.” Hannah paused when a set of headlights turned into the drive that led toward Dreamscape. “But I'm afraid the tale will have to wait. Here comes dinner.”

The low growl of a powerful, finely tuned engine rumbled in the gathering night. Lillian watched the sleek Porsche prowl down the drive.

The vehicle came to a halt near the inn's main entrance. The engine went silent. The door on the driver's side opened. Hannah's husband, Rafe, got out, moving with the easy masculine grace that characterized all the Madison males.

A dapper salt-and-pepper Schnauzer jumped out of the open car door after him. The dog paused and looked up toward the balcony.

“Hello, Winston,” Lillian called down. “You're as handsome as ever.”

Winston bounced a little in refined appreciation of what he obviously considered no more than his due. Then he trotted briskly up the steps and disappeared under the overhanging roof.

Rafe retrieved two grocery sacks from the interior of the car.

“About time you guys got home,” Hannah said to him. “We were starting to wonder if the two of you had stopped off at the Total Eclipse for a beer and a fast game of pool.”

Rafe nudged the door of the Porsche closed and looked up. He gave Hannah and Lillian the patented Madison smile, all rakish charm and a promise of trouble to come.

“Sorry we're a little late,” he said. “Ran into an old pal who just happened to show up in town late this afternoon. I invited him for dinner. Hope you don't mind.”

“Who is he?” Hannah asked curiously.

“Just some guy I know.”

Rafe turned to look back toward the far end of the drive. Lillian followed his gaze and saw a second set of headlights coming toward the inn.

A dark-green Jaguar glided down the drive and stopped next to the Porsche.

A sudden premonition sizzled through Lillian. She gripped the railing very tightly and leaned forward to get a better look.

“No,” she muttered. “Surely he wouldn't—”

Hannah glanced at her in surprise. “What's wrong?”

Before Lillian could answer the Jag's door opened. Gabe climbed out. His gaze went straight to the balcony.

“Hello, Lillian,” he said much too easily. “I see you got invited to dinner, too. Isn't this an amazing coincidence?”

“There are no coincidences,” Lillian said darkly.

“I've heard that.”

She was intensely aware of Rafe and Hannah watching the little scene. They both looked amused and intrigued. “What are you doing here? And don't try to tell me that you just decided to take a mini-vacation this weekend.”

“One thing you should know about me.” Gabe walked around the front of the Jag, making for the front steps.

“I never do anything on a whim. You're probably thinking of Rafe, here. He's been known to get a little wild and crazy at times.”

“Hey, don't look at me,” Rafe said quickly. “I'm a married man now. I've settled down. I only get wild and crazy with Hannah.” He gazed up at the balcony. “Isn't that right, honey?”

“If you know what's good for you, it is,” Hannah said. There was warmth and laughter in the words.

Gabe stopped at the foot of the steps and looked at Lillian. “You didn't really believe that I was going to let you skip out on me, did you?”

She dug her fingers into the rail. “I offered to repay your money.”

“I don't want a refund. I want what I paid for.”

“I don't believe this,” Lillian said.

Rafe paused, one booted foot on the bottom step, and gave his brother an inquiring look. “What's this all about? Sounds interesting.”

“She owes me a date,” Gabe explained. “I paid for six. I only got five.”

“That is not true,” Lillian said loudly.

“It is true,” Gabe assured Rafe and Hannah. “I've got a signed contract to prove it.”

Aware of Rafe's and Hannah's thinly veiled amusement, Lillian felt called upon to defend herself. “He lied on the questionnaire.”

“You're just saying that to cover up the fact that you did such a lousy job of matching me. Bottom line here is that I've got another date coming.”

“Lots of luck,” she shot back. “Nobody gets any more dates from Private Arrangements. The company is out of business. You'll have to get your last date somewhere else.”

Gabe started up the steps. “Nobody takes my money and leaves town without delivering the goods.”

“For crying out loud.” Lillian leaned a little farther out over the rail. “This is ridiculous. You can't possibly be serious about one lousy date.”

“When it comes to business, I'm always serious.” He disappeared into the house.

“That's my brother for you,” Rafe said, mockingly apologetic. “Could have written the book on how not to get screwed in a business deal. He fixates, you know?”

Before Lillian could tell him what she thought about Gabe's business style, Rafe, too, vanished beneath the overhang.

“Well,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “This is an interesting turn of events.”

“This isn't interesting, it's seriously aberrant behavior.” Lillian continued to look uneasily over the railing into the now-empty drive. “You think maybe Gabe's gone a little nuts or something in the years since he left Eclipse Bay? Maybe the stress of building his business empire has been too much for him.”

“I don't think it's the empire building that's making him act weird,” Hannah said. “I think it's the fact that he's a Madison.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Something tells me there's more to this story than your failure to live up to your end of a business contract.”

“Believe it or not, things started out fairly normally when Gabe signed up with Private Arrangements. I had stopped taking new clients but he seemed serious and determined. I figured okay, he's not exactly an old
friend
of the family, but he certainly qualifies as a longtime acquaintance, and we
are
sort of connected because of you and Rafe and all. I thought, what the heck? I still had the names of several nice women in my files.”

“What went wrong?”

“What can I say?” Lillian held out both hands, palms up. “Gabe became the client from hell.”