Dawn in Eclipse Bay

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-sounding kerchunk , 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