Dawn in Eclipse Bay

I’m also nervous about how well my show at the gallery will be received.”
    He couldn’t think of anything to say to that so he let it go.
    “Also, I had a couple of rather unpleasant scenes before I left Portland. I’ve been worrying about them. Wondering if I handled them properly.”
    “What kind of scenes?”
    She looked out toward the five finger rocks. “Anderson came to see me. He did not take it well when I told him I didn’t want to work on his book.”
    “I’ll bet he didn’t. Did you mention that you had seen him in his red underwear?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Just as well. I wouldn’t worry too much about that scene, if I were you. What was the other one?”
    “A man named Campbell Witley stopped me on the street to tell me that I had no business messing around in other people’s lives.”
    Something in the tone of her voice made him look at her more closely. “This Witley guy scared you?”
    She hesitated. “Maybe. A little.”
    “Who is he?”
    “The disgruntled ex-boyfriend of one of my clients. He didn’t like the fact that I had matched her with someone else, even though it’s obvious that Witley and Heather were not meant for each other.”
    He searched her face. “Did he threaten you?”
    “No.”
    “I’ll have him checked out.” He reached for the cell phone in the pocket of his jacket. “Madison Commercial keeps an investigation agency on retainer.”
    “Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I had Townsend Investigations run a quick background check. Witley has no history of violence or abuse.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Yes. It’s okay, really. Nella Townsend knows what she’s doing. The guy was just mad. I think what bothered me the most is that he had a point.”
    “Bullshit.”
    “He accused me of messing around with people’s lives and that’s exactly what I did. As a professional matchmaker I assumed a massive responsibility. What if I had made a terrible mistake? I could have seriously impacted someone’s future negatively.”
    “Stop beating yourself up over this. You were a consultant. People paid you for advice. You gave it. They made their own decisions. A simple business transaction. You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty.”
    She was silent for a moment, considering his words. Then her voice brightened.
    “You do have a way of boiling things down to the bare essence, Madison.”
    “One of the things I’m good at.” He leaned a little to get a look at the drawing on her lap. “Can I see what you’re working on there?”
    She handed the sketchpad to him without comment.
    He examined the drawing for a while and discovered that the longer he studied it, the more he wanted to look at it.
    It was a picture of Dead Hand Cove but it was the cove as he had never really seen it, at least not consciously. There was a riveting intensity about Lillian’s rendering of this small chunk of nature—a dark promise of potent, primordial power. It called to something deep within him—made him aware that he was forever linked on the cellular level to these wild forces of life.
    Damn. All that in a simple sketch. It was worse than he had thought. She was good. Very, very good.
    “One thing’s for sure,” he said finally. “You were wasting your time in the matchmaking business. You’re an artist, all right. This is your calling.”
    “Doesn’t mean my work will sell,” she said.
    “No.” He handed the sketchpad back to her. “It also doesn’t change the fact that this is what you were born to do. Can I ask you a question?”
    “What is it?”
    “Could you stop doing your art?”
    “Stop? You mean, just call it quits?”
    “Say someone came along and said he’d give you a million bucks if you agreed to never draw or paint again. Could you take the money and keep your promise?”
    “No.” She looked down at the sketch. “Sooner or later, I’d have to go back to it. It’s a compulsion, not a choice.”
    “That’s what I figured.” He exhaled deeply. “So you’ll keep doing it, even if you have to get another day job.”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re an artist.”
    “Yes,” she said again. “I guess so.”
    She sounded a little startled. Thoughtful. As if he had surprised her.
    He listened to the seawater tumble in the cove. The tide was returning. Soon only the tips of the fingers would be visible.
    “Madison Commercial must have been like that for you all these years,” Lillian said slowly. “A compulsion. Something you had to