Dawn in Eclipse Bay

chapter 6

Gabe got into the passenger side of Lillian’s car and closed the door. “Makes sense when you think about it.”

“What makes sense?” Lillian turned the key in the ignition and checked the rearview mirror.

“Transferring those frozen aliens and their UFO equipment here. Who’d ever think to look for them in Eclipse Bay?”

“Iknew it, you were enjoying yourself back there, weren’t you? You were actually encouraging A.Z. in her idiotic conspiracy theories.”

“Not like anything I said would havediscouraged her. Everyone knows she lives in her own parallel universe.”

“Doesn’t it worry you that she’s glommed onto the Heralds?” Lillian snapped the car’s gearshift into reverse and backed out of the parking space. “It was one thing when she was the lone conspiracy theorist in town. But now she’s got a bunch of enthusiastic assistants.”

“You’re right,” Gabe intoned darkly. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake.” She turned the wheel and drove out of the parking lot. “You’re determined to make a joke out of it, aren’t you?”

“Look at it from my point of view.”

“What is that?”

“Pondering the possibility that some secret gov’mint agency is getting ready to transfer dead space aliens and their technology to Eclipse Bay makes an interesting change.”

“Change from what?”

“From thinking about that sixth date you owe me.”

“Hmm.” She concentrated on the curving sweep of Bayview Drive. “Hadn’t thought of that. Dare I hope that you might sign up with A.Z.’s happy little band of conspiracy buffs and forget about trying to make me fulfill the terms of that contract you signed with Private Arrangements?”

“Well, no. Thing is, I never forget about getting what I paid for.”

She gripped the wheel. “Gabe, I told you, I’d refund your money.”

“It’s not the money.”

“Hah. With you, it’s the money. You’ve made that very clear from the start. I’ve never known anyone as paranoid about being married for his money as you are.”

“I am not paranoid.”

“The heck you aren’t. On this particular subject, you’re as bad as A.Z. is when it comes to secret government conspiracies.”

He settled deeper into the seat and looked out over the gray waters of the bay.

“I’m not that bad,” he said.

The dry, sardonic amusement that had infused his voice a moment ago was gone now. She shot him a quick glance, trying to read the shift in his mood. But his head was turned away from her. She could discern nothing from the hard angles of his profile.

She turned off the main road a short time later and went down the narrow, rutted lane that led to the old Buckley place. The weathered cottage was hunkered down on a windswept bluff overlooking a rocky stretch of beach. It looked as if it had not been lived in for a long time. The trees grew right up to the edge of the tiny yard. The blinds in the windows were yellowed with age. The porch listed a little to the right. The whole structure was badly in need of a coat of paint.

The only sign of life was Gabe’s gleaming Jaguar parked in the drive.

She brought her compact to a halt in front of the sagging porch.

“Thanks for the lift into town.” Gabe stirred and unfastened his seat belt.

“You’re welcome.”

He opened the car door and paused, gazing straight ahead through the windshield.

“You really think I’m a full-blown paranoid?” he asked quietly.

This was not good. No doubt about it, Gabe was sinking deeper into a very strange mood.

“Let’s just say I think you’re a little overly concerned about the issue of being married for your money,” she said gently.

“Overly concerned.”

“That’s how I would characterize it, yes.”

“And you’re not.”

“Not what?”

“Paranoid. About being married because of your connection to Harte Investments.”

She took a deep breath. “I won’t say that I don’t think about the possibility once in a while. As I told you, I have dated a few men who gave me some cause for concern. But I try to employ my common sense in the matter. I don’t obsess on the idea that every man I meet is only interested in me because of my family’s company.”

“Can’t help noticing that you still haven’t married, though.”

She felt her jaw tense. “The fact that I’m still single has nothing to do with being secretly paranoid about being married for my inheritance.”

“So, why are you still single?”

She frowned. “Why do you care?”

“Sorry. None of my business.” He pushed the door open and got out. “See you later.”

“Gabe?”

“Yeah?” He paused and leaned slightly to look at her.

“Are you, you know, okay?”

“Sure. I’m swell.”

“What are you going to do today?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t decided. Maybe take another walk on the beach. Check my e-mail. Do some research.” He paused. “What areyou going to do?”

“Paint. That’s why I came here.”

“Right.” He made to close the door.

She hesitated, trying to resist the impulse that had just struck her. She failed.

“Gabe, wait a second.”

“What now?”

This was stupid, she thought. Just because Hannah was married to Rafe, it did not follow that she herself had to assume any responsibility for members of the Madison family. Gabe was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. If she had any sense she would keep her mouth shut.

But she could not get past the feeling that something was not as it should be with Gabe. The way he had tried to amuse himself with Arizona’s conspiracy theories and now this swing to another, darker mood did not seem right. He was definitely not in a good place.

Burnout was a form of depression, she reminded herself.

“What about dinner?” she asked before she could give herself any more time to think.

“What about it?”

“I’m going to drive back into town later this afternoon to do some serious grocery shopping. If you don’t have any plans for tonight, I could pick up something and bring it over here. We can fix it together.”

“I’m no gourmet chef like Rafe,” he warned.

“Few people can cook as well as Rafe, but I can find my way around a kitchen. What about it? You interested? Or do you have other plans?”

“One thing I do not have is other plans,” he said. “By the way, if you’re going to the grocery store, could you pick up some peanut butter?”

“I suppose so.”

“Make it chunky style. See you for dinner.”

He closed the car door with a solid-soundingkerchunk, went up the steps and disappeared into the lonely-looking house before she could figure out how to climb back out of the hole she had just dug for herself.

He heard the sound of a car’s engine in the driveway just as the early winter twilight descended. A gut-deep sense of pleasurable anticipation rippled through him. He powered down the laptop computer, closed the lid and got to his feet.

He peered out the window, checking the weather. He could almost feel the weight of the heavy clouds moving in off the ocean. The storm would hit later tonight.

Perfect timing.

He crossed the threadbare carpet, opened the front door and went out onto the porch. The little rush of excitement faded at the sight of the vehicle coming toward him. It was a late-model Mercedes. Not Lillian’s Honda.

The Mercedes halted in front of the steps. The door on the driver’s side opened. An attractive, athletic-looking woman with stylishly cut honey-brown hair got out. She wore a pair of expensively tailored trousers and a pale silk shirt. Silver gleamed discreetly in her ears. A designer scarf in a subdued mauve print framed her long neck.

Marilyn Thornley hadn’t changed much since she had been Marilyn Caldwell, he thought. If anything, she had become more striking and more self-confident with the years. There was an invisible aura of authority and importance about her. When she walked into a room, you knew it.

She saw him watching her from the porch and gave him a glowing smile.

He did not take the smile personally. Marilyn always glowed like this whenever they occasionally encountered each other at one of the social events they both were obliged to attend. As Rafe had reminded him, he had a lot of what politicians loved most. Money. Marilyn had been a tireless fund-raiser for Trevor Thornley for years. Now she was firing up her own campaign.

Under the circumstances, he was not real surprised to see her, he thought.

“Gabe.” She came around the front of the Mercedes with long, purposeful strides. “I heard you were in town for a while.”

She was moving more quickly now, coming up the steps, heading toward him.

Belatedly he realized her intention and took a step back. But he didn’t move fast enough. She had her arms around his neck, her face tilted for a welcoming kiss before he could dodge. Reflexively, he turned his head at the last instant. Her lips grazed his jaw.

The mouth thing caught him off guard. It was the first time she’d pulled that stunt. But then, this was the first time he’d seen her since she and Thornley had announced their intention to divorce.

She released him, giving no indication that she had even noticed his small act of avoidance. Politicians had thick skins.

“You look wonderful,” she said.

“You’re looking great yourself.”

She gave him an arch look. “You mean for a woman whose husband humiliated her by withdrawing from a senatorial campaign and who is in the midst of a nasty divorce?”

“You’ve had a busy year.”

“You can say that again. Talk about stress. Life’s been a little rough lately.” She opened the front door of the house. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here. Another storm’s coming.”

He checked his watch. “I’ve got company scheduled to arrive at any minute.”

“Lillian Harte?”

Should have known,he thought.

Marilyn gave a throaty laugh. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s all over town that you walked into Incandescent Body bakery with her first thing this morning.”

“It wasn’t first thing.”

“How serious is it? You two sleeping together?”

The ease with which she asked such a personal question was a forcible reminder of just how personal their own relationship had once been. He found himself wanting to protect Lillian from some vague menace that he could not quite define. Or maybe it was just the residual effect of Mitchell’s notion of early-childhood education kicking in. Madison men did not kiss and tell. Mitchell had drummed that basic principle of proper masculine behavior into Rafe and Gabe early in life.

Besides, he had nothing to kiss and tell about, Gabe reminded himself.

“No,” he said. “We just happened to come out here to the coast at the same time. Found ourselves at loose ends today. We both wanted some company for breakfast. No big deal.”

Marilyn winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t cramp your style. I just wanted to say hello to an old friend.”

She swept through the door of the cottage.

He glanced once more back along the drive. There was no sign of Lillian’s car. Reluctantly he followed Marilyn into the small house.

“Good lord, couldn’t you find a better rental?” Marilyn surveyed the dilapidated interior with a grimace. “Not exactly your style, is it?”

“Until Rafe and Hannah get Dreamscape open there isn’t a lot of high-end rental housing available around Eclipse Bay. You know that as well as I do. It was either here or my grandfather’s house.” He allowed the door to close slowly behind him. “Knew that wouldn’t work so I picked this place. It’s got everything I need.”

“Like what?”

“Privacy.”

“Okay, I get the point. You’ve got a hot date with Lillian Harte and I’m in the way.” She settled on the arm of the shabby sofa with a regal grace. “I won’t stay long, I promise. I need to talk to you, Gabe.”

He did not sit down. He didn’t want to encourage her. Instead, he propped one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms. “What’s this all about, Marilyn?”

“Do I have to have a special reason? You and I go back a long way. We have a history.”

“History was never my best subject. I was a business major in college, remember?”

“I hear you signed up with Lillian’s matchmaking agency.”

“Who told you that?”

“Carole Rhoades. I got to know her when she did a little fund-raising for Trevor at her law firm last year.”

He identified the name immediately. Carole Rhoades was one of the five women Lillian had matched with him.

“Portland sure is a small town in some ways, isn’t it?” he said. “Almost as small as Eclipse Bay.”

“It’s not the size of the town, it’s the size of the universe in which you move.” She swung one long leg. “People who run companies like Madison Commercial tend to circulate in certain limited spheres.”

“I can see I need to get out more. Broaden my horizons.”

She chuckled. “I hear the date with Carole was a bust.”

“And here I thought we’d had a very pleasant evening.”

“She said she was home by ten o’clock and you didn’t even try to invite yourself in for a nightcap. She said it was obvious that you would much rather have been at your desk.”

“Damn. Women talk about stuff like that?”

“Of course they do.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He turned his wrist slightly to check his watch. “You want to tell me why you’re here?”

Her smile stayed in place but he thought he saw it tighten a notch or two.

“You make it sound as though the only thing that might bring me here is business.”

“Whenever we’ve run into each other during the past few years, you’ve usually hit me up for a campaign donation for Trevor.”

“Which you have always declined to give.”

“Madisons aren’t real big on political campaign contributions.”

“I realize that you never supported Trevor but things have changed-”

A brisk knock on the back door interrupted her before she could finish the sentence.

Gabe straightened away from the wall. “Looks like my guest decided to walk instead of drive this evening.”

He went through the ancient kitchen and opened the back door.

Lillian stood inside the glass-enclosed rear porch, a large, well-stuffed grocery bag in her arms. She wore the hooded iridescent rain cloak he’d seen in Portland, although it had not yet begun to rain. The cloak was unfastened, revealing the black turtleneck and black trousers she had on underneath. The tunic-length top was slashed with a lightning bolt of intense turquoise.

“I thought you were going to drive over,” he said.

“Walking seemed faster.”

“It’s almost dark.”

“So what? This is Eclipse Bay, not the big bad city.”

“Listen, tough lady, you ought to know better than to run around an unlit, sparsely inhabited stretch of coastline after dark.”

“You want to help me with this grocery sack or would you rather stand there and lecture me for a while?”

“Give me the damn sack.”

“My, you’re in a swell mood tonight.”

“Uninvited company.” He took the sack from her and stood back. “Marilyn Thornley. She won’t be staying long.”

“That’s good, because I didn’t bring enough food for three.”

The weight of the grocery sack belied that claim, but he did not argue the point. He set it on the counter without comment.

Marilyn appeared in the kitchen doorway. She gave Lillian the same glowing grin she’d used on Gabe.

“Lillian. It’s been ages. Good to see you again.”

“Hello, Marilyn. Been a while,” she responded sweetly.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your little dinner party,” Marilyn said. “I heard Gabe was in town. Thought I’d stop in and say hello.”

“Doing a little fund-raising?” Lillian asked smoothly. “Rumor has it that you’re going into politics on your own, now that Trevor is no longer in the picture.”

There was a short, brittle silence during which neither woman’s smile faltered.

“Gabe and I were just talking about how fast word travels in this town,” Marilyn said with a slight edge on her voice.

“I ran into Pamela McCallister at Fulton’s Supermarket this afternoon,” Lillian said. “Her husband, Brad, is on the faculty at Chamberlain but he has a joint appointment at the institute. He says you’ve already got your campaign staff organized and that you’ve put Claire Jensen in charge.”

“You know Claire?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen much of her in recent years but we worked together at a local restaurant one summer when we were both in college. She always said she wanted to go into politics.”

“Claire worked very hard on Trevor’s staff. She’s had a lot of experience. I think she’s ready to head up a campaign.”

“I hear you’ve got your sites on a seat in the U.S. Senate.”

There was another brittle pause. Gabe helped Lillian with her rain cloak.

“Yes,” Marilyn said.

“Expensive,” Lillian murmured.

“Yes,” Marilyn said again. “Politics is an expensive pursuit.”

Lillian went to the counter, reached into the grocery sack and removed a plastic bag containing a head of dark-green broccoli. “Probably not a lot of money left over after Trevor bowed out of the race last fall.”

“No.”

“The Thornley campaign did a lot of media, as well. The television commercials must have cost a fortune.”

“You’re right,” Marilyn said in a low voice. “The ads wiped out most of the war chest. We knew going in that they would be expensive, but you can’t win elections without television.” She paused. “There were also some additional, unplanned expenses toward the end.”

The sudden anger in her voice made both Gabe and Lillian look at her.

“We were so close. So damned close,” Marilyn said bitterly.

“I’m sorry it all fell apart,” Lillian said quietly. “I know it must have been a blow.”

“You don’t have to pretend that you don’t know what happened,” Marilyn said. “I’m sure you heard the rumors about the videos.”

Gabe exchanged a glance with Lillian. They were both aware of the story behind the videos that had disappeared when the former editor of theEclipse Bay Journal had been arrested a few months ago. The missing films purported to show Trevor Thornley cavorting in high heels and ladies’ undergarments.

“I heard that those tapes, assuming they ever actually existed, were destroyed,” Gabe said neutrally. “No one I know has ever seen them.”

“That bastard, Jed Steadman, lied about having destroyed them without looking at them. He made copies.” Marilyn’s voice roughened with tightly controlled rage. “He blackmailed Trevor from jail. Said he needed the money for his trial.”

Gabe exhaled slowly. “That was the unexpected additional campaign expense you mentioned? Blackmail payments to Jed Steadman?”

“Steadman was too smart to approach me,” Marilyn said. “He contacted Trevor. And that idiotpaid him off. I couldn’t believe it. When I discovered that he was actually making blackmail payments I knew the campaign was finished. But Trevor thought he could keep it all hushed up. He did not even begin to comprehend what we were up against.”

“You walked out and Trevor was forced to quit the race,” Lillian said.

“There wasn’t any other viable option. It was obvious that Trevor was going down, but that didn’t mean that I had to go down with him.” Marilyn looked at Gabe. “Politics is a lot like any other business. You have to know when to cut your losses.”

“Sure,” Gabe said, keeping his voice very even. “I can see the parallels.”

Marilyn blinked rapidly once or twice, realizing she’d gone too far. “So much for catching up on my personal news. It’s getting late. I’ll leave you two to your private little dinner party. Nice to see you both.”

She turned away from the kitchen and started toward the front door.

Gabe looked at Lillian. She raised her brows but said nothing.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” he called to Marilyn.

He caught up with her and together they went out onto the porch. The fast-moving storm clouds had cut off what little was left of the sunset’s afterglow. He switched on the porch light. The wind had grown stronger while they had been inside the cottage. The limbs of the fir trees at the edge of the drive were stirring briskly.

Marilyn put up a well-manicured hand to keep her hair in place. She looked at her Mercedes, not at him.

“Do you ever wonder how things might have worked out for us if we hadn’t broken up?” she asked in a pensive voice.

“ ‘Never look back’ is about the closest thing we Madisons have to a family motto.”

“You’ve never married.”

“Been busy for the past few years.”

“Yes, I know. So have I. Sure wish I could adopt your family motto.” Her mouth twisted sadly. “When I think of all the time I invested in Trevor’s career, I feel almost physically ill. Looking back, I can’t believe I made such a huge mistake. How could I have been so stupid, Gabe?”

“We all make the best choices we can with the information we have available at the time we have to make them. None of us ever has enough information to be absolutely sure we’re making the right choice.”

“We’ve followed separate paths for a while,” she said. “But now we seem to be circling back toward each other. Strange how life works, isn’t it?”

“Strange, all right.”

She unfolded her arms and reached up to touch his cheek very lightly with her fingertips. “Enjoy your dinner with Lillian.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You know, if anyone had suggested a few days or months or years ago that you might find her attractive, I would have laughed. But now that I’m going through the breakup of my marriage, I view male-female relationships in a different light.”

“Light is funny. Did you know that if you put it into corn bread dough, it makes terrific muffins?”

“I understand the appeal that Lillian has for you, Gabe.”

“You might want to take it easy on the way back to the main road. The rains must have been heavy last month. They washed out a chunk of the drive.”

“Your family and hers have a very tangled history.”

“I think I hear my cell phone ringing.” He patted his pockets.

“Don’t forget, I know you well from the old days. I remember very clearly how you measured your own success against that of Harte Investments. I can only imagine how tempting it would be for you to marry Lillian and graft a third of her family’s company onto Madison Commercial. In a way, it would be the ultimate triumph for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Must have left the damn thing in the house.”

He took a step back toward the partially opened door.

“I know you probably aren’t interested in any advice from me,” Marilyn said. “But for the sake of the past we share, I’m going to give you some, anyway. Don’t marry just to prove something to yourself or because you think it would be worth it to add a chunk of Harte Investments to your empire. I married Trevor for reasons that had nothing to do with love. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

She went down the steps, got into the Mercedes and drove away.

He watched the taillights until they disappeared, listening to the wind, aware of the oncoming storm.

“Going to donate to her campaign?” Lillian questioned.

He turned around slowly, wondering how long she had been standing there on the other side of the screen door.

“Don’t think so.” He opened the door and walked into the warmth of the house. “Ready to work on dinner?”

“Sure. I’ve worked up quite an appetite. Spent the day setting up my studio in the spare bedroom at the cottage. I’m starving.”

She turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Had she overheard Marilyn’s crack about marrying her to get a chunk of Harte Investments?

He went to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. A variety of vegetables, including the broccoli, stood on the counter. A wedge of parmesan cheese wrapped in plastic and a package of pasta were positioned nearby.

“Looks like some assembly required,” he said.

“We’re both smart people. I think we can get this done.” She picked up a small knife and went to work on a yellow bell pepper. “Why don’t you pour us a glass of wine? Probably make things go more smoothly.”

“Good idea.” He moved out of the doorway, opened a drawer and removed a corkscrew.

Lillian concentrated on the bell pepper.

He should probably say something, he thought. But he wasn’t sure what she expected from him. How much had she overheard?

“Marilyn just showed up a few minutes before you got here,” he said. “Out of the blue.”

“She’ll be back. You’ve got something she wants.”

“I know. Money. You’re not the first one to warn me.”

Lillian dumped the sliced pepper into a bowl. “It’s not your money she wants.”

“Sure it is. She needs cash to fuel her campaign.”

“I’m not saying that she wouldn’t find your money useful. But what she really wants is someone she can trust completely, a man who will support her ambitions. She wants someone who will add strength and influence to her power base. Someone whose goals won’t conflict with hers and who will not try to compete with her.”

The cork came out of the bottle with a small pop. “You could tell all that in the five minutes you spent talking to her?”

“Sure. I’m a former matchmaker, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right. I keep forgetting about your famous matchmaking intuition.”

“Go ahead, mock me at your own peril. But I’m here to tell you that you’ve got a lot of what she’s looking for in a husband.” Lillian paused, head tipped slightly to the side. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“She’s got a lot of what you stated you wanted on the Private Arrangements questionnaire. Say, maybe you were a tad more honest in your responses than I thought.”

He poured two glasses of the cabernet, grimly pleased that his hand remained steady. “Marilyn and I already tried the couple thing. It didn’t work out.”

“I’m serious.” Lillian put down the knife and picked up one of the wineglasses. “Marilyn meets a lot of the requirements you listed. There’s money in her family. Even if they have cut off her campaign allowance for the moment, she’ll inherit a nice bit of the Caldwell fortune someday. She’s not an elitist academic or a fuzzy-brained New Age thinker.” She paused a beat. “And she’s not thearty type.”

He leaned against the refrigerator and swirled the wine in his glass. “You didn’t answer my question. Think she and I would be a good match if we gave it another try?”

She reached for the box of pasta. “No.”

“Decisive. I like that in a matchmaker. Why don’t you think she and I would be a good match?”

“Because you lied on the questionnaire.”

“In your opinion.”

“Mine is the only one that counts here,” she said coolly. “I’m the professional, remember?”