Eclipse Bay

thought, just how outrageous she had been in the past twenty-four hours.
    “I’m glad you find it so amusing,” Hannah muttered into her tea. “I’d like to remind you that half of Dreamscape belongs to me. I had a right to scream some when I realized what he was doing.”
    “Of course you did.”
    “You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”
    Pamela raised one brow in a very knowing fashion. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were.”
    Both shoes had dropped last night before she even got upstairs, Hannah recalled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “You’re involved in a sticky situation with a Madison,” Pamela said. “So far, all you’ve done is yell at him in front of witnesses. That may be a big scene for a Harte, but I doubt if it even ruffled Rafe Madison’s hair. The question here is, What happens next?”
    Hannah swallowed more tea and submerged herself deeper into the pool of gloom. “He’s proposed a partnership in an inn and restaurant.”
    “A partnership?” Pamela’s eyes widened behind the lenses of her glasses. “You and Rafe Madison? Oh, my.”
    “It’s impossible, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “It would never work.”
    “Never in a million years. I can’t even begin to imagine what your family would say about the notion of you and Rafe opening an inn together.”
    “I prefer not to think about it.”
    Pamela looked as though she was attempting to suppress a smile.
    “What?” Hannah demanded.
    “I’ll say one thing about you and Rafe Madison,” Pamela murmured. “You two don’t get together often, but when you do, it’s never dull.”
    The sound of a vehicle in the drive saved Hannah from having to come up with a response to that observation. Two small whirlwinds, both dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and miniature running shoes, blew into the front room. They flew toward the door. A massive beast that went by the wholly inappropriate name of Kitty followed in their wake.
    Kitty was the reason Winston had remained at the cottage that afternoon. Kitty did not care for Winston. Hannah was fairly certain that the feeling was reciprocated. On the one occasion when Winston and Kitty had been introduced, she had caught Winston eyeing Kitty with a peculiar gleam in his eye. It was the same gleam that he got when he chased seagulls on the beach. For her part, Kitty had hissed and growled and generally made it clear that she was not a dog lover.
    “Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home,” the whirlwind named Rose chanted happily as she stretched both hands overhead and tried to seize the doorknob.
    Mark, Rose’s older brother, grabbed the knob before she could get a grip on it. “I get to show him my new maze before you make him look at your stupid drawing.”
    “My drawing isn’t stupid.” Rose looked at Pamela for confirmation of her artistic ability. “It isn’t stupid, is it, Mom?”
    “It’s beautiful,” Pamela assured her. “We’re going to hang it on the refrigerator with the others just as soon as you finish it.”
    Rose whirled back to her brother. “Told you so, you big dummy. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    Pamela gave Hannah an amused glance. “I think she takes after me. Not at all reticent about standing up for herself.”
    Hannah grinned. “It’s so thrilling to see the genes pass down to another generation.”
    “Ever think about producing your own little bundle of Hannah genes?”
    Hannah watched the two children battle over who got to open the door for Brad. A pang of deep longing twisted through her. She gazed at Mark and imagined a little boy with Rafe’s eyes. For the first time she wondered if her growing restlessness this past year had something to do with her ticking biological clock.
    “Funny you should ask,” she said softly. “Of course, there’s one small problem. I need more than just Hannah genes to create the final product.”
    The front door opened, and Brad walked into the hall. He was a fair-haired man with earnestly intelligent eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. There was a deceptively quiet, deeply thoughtful way about him that belied a quick, razor-sharp brain. He was fashionably rumpled in what passed for academic chic. His button-down shirt and khaki trousers were both wrinkled. The loud, awkwardly knotted tie, scuffed leather shoes, and bulging book bag accented the young, professorial look.
    He barely had time to wave a hand toward Hannah before the two whirlwinds and Kitty