Summer in Eclipse Bay

into the front seat to collect a white straw purse. "Which is probably a good thing, because I've been so busy lately with my Summer Celebration committee work." She reappeared, purse in hand. "One argument after another, you know. Right now the big issue is whether or not to put up a banner at the intersection where the Total Eclipse is located."
    "I take it some folks don't approve?"
    "I should say not. There's a strong feeling in some quarters that placing a banner so close to the bar would make it appear that the Total Eclipse is somehow an official participant in the event." Edith made a
tut-tut
sound. "And I absolutely agree. We really don't want the summer people and tourists thinking that dreadful place is considered a respectable business here in town."
    Nick smiled. "Come on, now, Edith. The Eclipse has been operating here since my grandfather's day. Hard to pretend it doesn't exist. Fred pays his taxes, like everyone else."
    "The Summer Celebration was never intended to promote that sort of tacky establishment and there will be no banner placed near it on my watch." She turned to Carson. "What's that you've got there, dear?"
    "I brought my pictures for Miss Brightwell to see," Carson said proudly. He brandished the three rolled-up drawings he held. "She's going to choose one for the art show."
    "Ah, yes, the Children's Art Show event. The Summer Celebration committee is delighted to be including such a wholesome, family-oriented activity as part of the festival this year. The project is a wonderful contribution. We're all so pleased that Octavia is willing to sponsor it."
    "I did a picture of Winston," Carson informed her.
    "That's lovely, dear." She winked at Nick as they walked toward the row of shops opposite the pier. "Do we have another budding artist in the Harte family?"
    "You never know," Nick said.
    "Art makes a very nice hobby," Edith said, laying a decided emphasis on the word
hobby.
"Everyone should have a recreational activity of some sort. Jeremy enjoys painting, you know."
    "He always did," Nick said, keeping his voice neutral.
    "That's true. He doesn't have much time for it now, of course, what with his new position up at the institute." Pride glowed in Edith's face. "I'm surprised the two of you haven't had a chance to get together yet. You and Jeremy were such good friends in the old days."
    Nick smiled very casually. "Like you said, he's probably very busy settling into his new job." And dating Octavia.
    "I must say, your writing career appears to be going very well. I saw your latest book in the rack near the checkout counter at Fulton's the other day."
    Nick wondered if that was a gentle hint. "I'd be happy to sign a copy for you, Mrs. Seaton."
    "Thank you, but that won't be necessary," she said airily. "I don't read that sort of thing."
    So much for knowing a hint when he heard one. "Right."
    "Who would have thought you'd be so successful with your book writing?" Edith continued, shaking her head a few times.
    "Not a lot of folks," he admitted. Amelia, for instance. "And walking away from Harte Investments after your grandfather and your father had poured their hearts and souls into the business." Edith clicked her tongue again. "Really, it was quite a shock to everyone. When I think of what Sullivan went through after that dreadful woman destroyed Harte-Madison all those years ago. I mean, one would have thought that you would have felt some sense of responsibility to the family firm."
    Nick realized he was clenching his back teeth a little too tightly together and forced himself to relax his jaw. It was Sullivan who had poured heart and soul into Harte. His father, Hamilton, on the other hand, had taken over the responsibility only because he had felt trapped by a sense of duty and filial obligation. Hamilton had known firsthand how much blood and sweat his father had expended to create Harte Investments. Early on in life he had accepted the fact that he could not reject the company without appearing to reject Sullivan and everything he had accomplished. But Hamilton Harte had stood firm when it came to passing along the suffocating weight of obligation to his own offspring. He had refused to apply the kind of pressure that had been applied to him to coerce any of his three children into following in their father's and grandfather's footsteps.
Life is too short to spend it doing something you hate,
he'd told his wife, Elaine.
Let them find their own paths.
    The best thing about the