Summer in Eclipse Bay

to get the mail. But she might change her mind if you make her mad."
    The sad fact was that Carson had made a lot more headway with Octavia than he had, Nick realized. His son adored the Fairy Queen of Eclipse Bay. For her part, she seemed to be very fond of Carson. The two of them had developed a relationship that somehow completely excluded him, Nick thought. It was frustrating.
    "Don't worry," he said. "She's not the type to hold a grudge against you just because she doesn't want to go out with me."
    He was pretty sure that was the truth. Octavia was a great mystery to him in many ways, but when it came to this aspect of her personality, he felt very sure of himself. She would never hold the sins of the father, whatever they might be, against the son.
    Carson remained dubious. "Promise me you won't ask her out again until after she chooses one of my pictures."
    "Okay, okay, I won't call her again until she makes her selection."
    That was a safe promise. He figured it would be at least another three or four days before he could fortify himself to make a seventh phone call.
    "Let's see your pictures," he said.
    "They're in the bedroom." Carson whipped around and dashed off down the hall.
    Nick followed him around the corner and into the downstairs room that his sister Lillian had turned into a temporary studio a few months earlier.
    Three large squares of heavy drawing paper were arranged in a row on the hardwood floor. The pictures were all done in crayon, per the rules of the exhibition.
    Nick went to stand looking down at the first picture. The scene showed a house with two stick figures standing very close together inside. The taller of the two figures had one arm extended protectively over the head of the smaller figure. A yellow sun shone brightly above the peaked roof.
    There was a green flower with several petals in the right-hand corner.
    "That's you and me," Carson said proudly. He indicated the stick figures. "You're the big one."
    Nick nodded. "Nice colors." He moved on to the next drawing and pondered it for a moment. At first all he could make out was a vague oval shape done in gray crayon. There were several jagged lines around the outside of the oval. He was baffled until he noticed the two pointy projections on top. Dog ears.
    "This is Winston, I take it?" he said.
    "Yeah. I had a little trouble with his nose. Dog noses are hard."
    "Good job on the ears."
    "Thanks."
    Nick studied the third picture, a scene of five brown, elongated shapes thrusting out of a blue crayon circle. "The rocks in Dead Hand Cove?"
    "Uh-huh." Carson frowned. "Aunt Lillian said it would make a good picture, but I dunno. Kind of boring. I like the other two better. Which one do you think I should give to Miss Brightwell?"
    "That's a tough question. I like them all."
    "I could ask Aunt Lillian. She's a real artist."
    "She and Gabe are stuck in Portland for a while because Gabe is tied up with Dad and Sullivan while they hammer out the plans for the merger. You'll have to make the choice without her advice."
    Carson studied the two pictures with a troubled expression. "Huh."
    "I've got an idea," Nick said smoothly. "Why don't you take all three pictures with you tomorrow when we go into town? You can show them to Octavia when you take her the coffee and muffin. She can choose the one she likes best."
    "Okay." Carson brightened immediately, clearly pleased by that suggestion. "I'll bet she goes for Winston. She likes him."
    Not yet six and the kid was already displaying an intuitive understanding of the client, Nick thought. Carson was a natural for the business world.
Unlike himself.
    He had hated the corporate environment. His decision to leave Harte Investments, the company his grandfather, Sullivan, had founded and that his father, Hamilton, had taken over had not gone down well. Although his father had understood and supported him, his grandfather had been hurt and furious at the time. He had seen Nick's refusal to follow in his footsteps as a betrayal of everything he had worked so hard to achieve.
    He and Sullivan had managed a rapprochement eventually, thanks to the intervention of everyone else in the family. They were back on speaking terms at any rate. But deep down, Nick was not certain that Sullivan would ever entirely forgive him.
    He did not really blame his grandfather. Sullivan had poured his blood and sweat into building Harte Investments. He had envisioned the firm descending through generation after generation