Summer in Eclipse Bay

College. They might go for that kinda thing."
    "Maybe. If that's the case, we'll have to let Valentine deal with it. I'm just checking out the possibility that someone local might have taken it as a prank or on a dare. I can see some guy who'd had a couple-three-too-many beers down at the Total Eclipse deciding to swipe the painting as a stunt."
    "Huh. Hadn't thought of that."
    "In which case," Nick said in the same casual tone he'd been using all day long, "if it just shows up again there will be no questions asked."
    Young Boone squinted knowingly and snapped his oily rag.
    "Gotcha. I'll spread the word."
    "Thanks."
    Mitchell was out of the SUV. He had his cane in one hand and he was making straight for the dock where Nick stood.
    "I'd better get going," Nick said. "Places to go, people to see."
    Boone glanced past him toward Mitchell, who was advancing rapidly. "Good luck. Gonna be hard to avoid Madison. He's got a bee in his bonnet about you and that Miss Brightwell gal."
    "I know." Nick assessed his chances of escape. He had the advantage of being several decades younger than Mitchell, and he hadn't developed any arthritis yet. If he moved quickly, he might just make it to the car before Madison intercepted him. "See you around, Boone."
    "See ya."
    Nick went swiftly along the gently shifting dock. He made it through the gate and was halfway across the parking lot when he realized he wasn't going to be able to dodge his pursuer. He could outrun him, of course, but that would have been the coward's way. Hartes did not run from Madisons.
    "Hold up right there, Harte." Mitchell thumped his cane on the hard-packed ground as he veered to the right to block Nick's path. His bushy brows bristled across the bridge of his aggressive nose. "I want to talk to you."
    Nick halted. Not much choice, he figured.
    "'Afternoon, sir," he said politely. "Storm give you any trouble last night?"
    "Storms don't give me trouble." Mitchell planted himself in front of Nick and glowered ferociously. "Hartes give me trouble. Just what the hell kind of game do you think you're playing with Octavia Brightwell?"
    "I don't want to be rude, sir, but I'm in a hurry here. Maybe we should talk about this later."
    "We'll talk right now." Mitchell banged the cane again for emphasis. "I heard you spent the night out at Octavia's place."
    "That, sir, is a flat-out lie."
    Mitchell was startled into momentary speechlessness.
    "You tellin' me it was someone else? You weren't the man who was out there last night?"
    "I had dinner with Octavia," Nick said evenly. "I went home afterward. I did not spend the night."
    "The way I hear it, you were there until nearly one o'clock in the morning."
    "You've got spies on your payroll?"
    "Don't need any spies. Young Boone saw you drive past the marina late last night. He told everyone at the post office first thing this morning."
    "You know, sir, I hate to break this to you, but nowadays it's not all that unusual for a couple of adults to spend an evening together that doesn't wind up until one in the morning."
    "Not here in Eclipse Bay, they don't, not unless they're foolin' around. And you two aren't a couple of adults."
    "We're not?"
    "Nope."
    "Mind if
I
ask just how you classify us, if not as adults?"
    "You're a Harte and Octavia is Claudia's great-niece."
    "So?"
    "Shoot and damn, son." Mitchell raised the cane and waved it in a slashing arc. "I warned you. If you think I'm gonna just stand by and let you take advantage of that gal, you're-"
    "Mitch, wait." Octavia's clear voice echoed across the parking lot. "I can explain everything."
    Nick turned his head and saw Octavia coming toward them at top speed. She left the sidewalk in front of her shop and raced across Bay Street, hair flying behind her.
    He was amazed that she could actually run in the sexy little slides. They did not look as if they'd provide adequate support or stability for this kind of exercise. But, then, what did he know about ladies' shoes?
    A car horn blared. Brakes screeched. Octavia paid no attention. She reached the opposite side of the street and kept moving, heading straight for Mitchell and Nick.
    "You don't understand, Mitch," she shouted. "It's okay, really it is."
    Mitchell glared at her with concern when she skidded to a halt, breathless and flushed, in front of him.
    "See here, you all right?" he asked. "Something wrong?"
    "No, no, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Still breathing hard, she shot a quick, unreadable glance at