Dawn in Eclipse Bay

Mitchell roared. “I’m proud of what he’s done with that company. He proved to you Hartes and the whole damn world that a Madison can make somethin’ of himself. He proved that a Madison who sets his mind to it can get his act together, that being a member of this family doesn’t mean you’re doomed to screw up everything you touch the way I did and the way his father did.”
    There was a short, hard silence.
    “Did you ever tell him that?” Lillian asked softly. “Because I think he needs to hear it.”
    Mitchell’s mouth opened again but this time no words emerged.
    She turned and walked out into the garden.

    Gabe dunked a clam strip into the spicy red sauce. “Heard you went out to the house to see Mitchell this afternoon.”
    Lillian started a little. The fork in her hand trembled slightly. She clenched her fingers around it and stabbed at the mound of coleslaw on her plate.
    “Who told you that?” she asked.
    Stalling, he thought. Why? What the hell was going on here?
    This morning when they had left Portland together he had been feeling good. More settled. Like he finally had a handle on this relationship. He had assured himself that various issues had been clarified.
    He and Lillian were having an affair. They both agreed on that. Couldn’t get much simpler or more straightforward than that.
    But now that they were back in Eclipse Bay, everything was starting to get complicated again.
    He pondered that while he listened to the background hum of conversations and the clatter of dishes and silverware. The Crab Trap was a noisy, cheerful place. Until Rafe and Hannah got Dreamscape open, it was the closest thing to fine dining that Eclipse Bay could offer. It boasted a view of the bay, actual tablecloths and little candles in old Chianti bottles. On prom night and Mother’s Day it was always fully booked.
    It had seemed the obvious choice for dinner tonight.
    A little too obvious, he had realized a few minutes ago when Marilyn Thornley had walked in with a small entourage and occupied the large booth at the rear.
    “Ran into Bryce at the gas station.” Gabe put the clam strip into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “He mentioned you’d been out to the house. Not like Bryce to say anything about a casual visit. He doesn’t talk much. Must have figured it was important.”
    Lillian hesitated and then gave a tiny shrug. “Your grandfather left a message on my answering machine while we were in Portland. Said he wanted to see me. I drove over to his place. It seemed the polite thing to do under the circumstances.”
    “What did he want?”
    “Seemed to think that I was exerting my feminine wiles on you. Weaving a net of seduction in which to trap you, et cetera, et cetera. Evidently he’s afraid that I might break your heart.”
    He managed to swallow the clam strip without sputtering and choking but it was not easy.
    “He said that? That he’s worried you might break my heart?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Well, shoot and damn.”
    “He said ‘shoot and damn’ a lot, too.”
    “This is a little embarrassing.”
    “He wanted to know if my intentions were honorable,” Lillian said without inflection.
    Gabe made himself pick up another clam strip. “What did you tell him?”
    “I told him the same thing that I told my mother today when she asked me about our relationship.”
    Definitely getting more complicated by the minute.
    “And what was that?” he asked.
    She picked up her water glass. “That the subject of honorable intentions had not arisen and that it was highly unlikely to arise.”
    “You told both of them that?”
    “Yes. Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
    “Want to talk about ’em now?” he asked.
    She flushed and glanced hurriedly around, apparently making certain that no one had overheard him. “That is not funny.”
    “Wasn’t trying to make a joke.”
    “For heaven’s sake, Gabe, keep your voice down.”
    “It is down. Yours is starting to get a little loud, though.”
    “You know, I don’t need this. I’ve had a difficult day. I came here to work. Thus far I have accomplished nothing. Absolutely zilch.”
    “Painting not going well?” he asked.
    “What painting? I’m starting to think I’ll have to go back to Portland to get anything done.”
    “Take it easy. You seem a little tense tonight.”
    “I’m not tense,” she muttered.
    “Okay, if you say so, but I gotta tell you that you look tense.”
    She lowered her fork very deliberately. “If this