Dawn in Eclipse Bay

Sometime during the last two years, he thought. It had grown remarkably more acute since Rafe’s marriage, however.
    In the old days, after he and Rafe had gone to live with Mitchell following the death of their parents, there had been relatively few conflicts between Gabe and his grandfather. Rafe had been the rebel, the one who had gone toe-to-toe with Mitchell at every turn.
    But looking back, Gabe knew that he had taken the opposite path, not because he had wanted to please Mitchell but because he was committed to his future goal. All he had cared about was his dream of proving that a Madison could be a success. In high school he had charted a course that he had calculated would enable him to achieve his objective and he had stuck to it. He had been the one who had gotten the good grades, stayed out of trouble and graduated from college because he could see that was how the Hartes did things. They had been his role models. It was clear to him, even as a boy, that the traditional Madison approach to life led to poor outcomes.
    In the end, he had achieved his objective. He had put together a business empire that rivaled Harte Investments. One of these days, it would be even bigger than Harte.
    He knew that now, although he had not built Madison Commercial with the conscious intention of pleasing his grandfather. Mitchell’s approval had been one of the satisfying side effects of success. He had taken it for granted for some time.
    The realization that nothing he had accomplished seemed to matter to Mitchell anymore left him with a peculiar, empty feeling deep inside. This morning, for the first time, he realized that anger was seeping in to fill the void.
    What right did the old man have to give him advice on how to run his life?
    Mitchell squinted, searching Gabe’s face. Whatever he saw there appeared to reassure him somewhat.
    “Marilyn didn’t hang around?”
    “Not for long,” Gabe said mildly.
    “She and Thornley are calling it quits, you know,” Mitchell said.
    “I heard.”
    “Word is, she’s got her own plans to go into politics.”
    Gabe dropped his arms and wrapped his hands around the wet railing. Damn, it was cold. In another few minutes his teeth would probably start to chatter. “She told me that much yesterday when she stopped by to see me. Probably do okay.”
    “You know what she’s after, don’t you?”
    “Sure. Don’t worry, Mitch, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck either. It’s obvious that Marilyn is looking for someone to help finance her political career.”
    “I hear her father is a little pissed because she blew so much cash on Thornley’s campaign. They say Caldwell isn’t real eager to pump more money into another political race, even if it is his daughter who is running this time.”
    “The Caldwells will come around. Eventually. They always do for Marilyn.”
    Mitchell nodded. “That woman always did have a way of getting what she wanted, even when she was a little girl. Still, no politician ever has enough cash. She could use a rich husband with connections. Looks like you’re back on her radar scope.”
    “I’m not interested in being married to a politician. If she doesn’t know that already, I think she’ll figure it out real quick. Marilyn is smart.”
    “The two of you had something going there for a while. Maybe she figures she can relight some old flames.”
    Gabe shrugged. “Whatever we had was over a long time ago.”
    “Don’t count on her giving up easily.”
    “Okay, I won’t count on it.”
    Mitchell’s hawklike face tightened in a shrewd expression. “You know, things would be a whole lot simpler if you got married.”
    Gabe gripped the railing and said nothing.
    “Marilyn Thornley wouldn’t be hanging around here at suppertime if you had a wife,” Mitchell said.
    Gabe looked at him. “Don’t start.”
    “A man your age oughtta be married. Hell, I was married at your age.”
    “Would that have been Alicia or Janine? No, wait, Alicia was number three, wasn’t she? So was it Susan? It can’t have been Trish because I’m sure you told me once that Trish was number one. Must have been Janine.”
    Mitchell hammered the cane against the boards. “The point is, I was married.”
    “And divorced. A couple of times, at least at that point. Two down and two more to go.”
    “So I screwed up once or twice.”
    “Four times in all.”
    “Shoot and damn.” Mitchell’s voice went up a few decibels. “You’re supposed to