Summer in Eclipse Bay

decided to take on the job of looking out for Claudia Banner's great-niece."
    "This problem we're discussing involves your grandson," Mitch shot back. "I told you I wouldn't stand by and let him-"
    "Shut up." Sullivan got up out of the chair very suddenly.
    Phone in hand, he went to stand at the window. "Don't say it again."
    "Don't say what?" Mitchell asked innocently. "That I won't let Nick sucker Octavia into an affair and then dump her when he decides he wants to replace her with some other lady?"
    "This is my grandson you're talking about." Sullivan's hand clamped fiercely around the phone, but he managed to keep his voice level. "He is not a philanderer, damn it."
    "That so? Then why hasn't he found himself a good woman sometime during the past four years and settled down again? That's what you Hartes do, isn't it? Get married and stay married?"
    "Yes, Mitch. Unlike the sterling example of family values you set for your grandsons with your three or four wives and God only knows how many affairs, we Hartes are real big on family values."
    "You leave my grandsons out of this."
    "Hard to do that, given that they're married to my granddaughters."
    "There's not a damn thing wrong with Gabe's or Rafe's family values and you know it. Lillian is Gabe's passion and Hannah is Rafe's. Nothing comes between a Madison and his passion. Those two boys are married for life."
    "So was Nick," Sullivan said quietly.
    Silence hummed on the line.
    "That's the real problem, you see," Sullivan continued. "Nick figured he had married for life. He hasn't adjusted to the loss of Amelia. He's not heartless, he's just trying to protect himself."
    "Look, I know folks here in Eclipse Bay like to say that losing her broke Nick's heart." There was a note of gruff sympathy in Mitchell's voice. "Expect it's true, what with him being a Harte and all. But that ain't no excuse for him playin' fast and loose with a nice girl like Octavia. She's had a rough time of it, too, damn it. But unlike your grandson, I don't think she's tough enough to protect herself."
    "So you've decided to do it for her?"
    "Someone's gotta do it. Not like she's got any family around to take on the job."
    Sullivan hesitated. "All right, you've made your point."
    "Got another one to make while I'm at it," Mitchell said grimly. "Your grandson spent last night at her place."
    That gave Sullivan pause. "The whole night?"
    "Well, maybe not the
entire
night-"
    Sullivan relaxed slightly. "Didn't think so."
    "But it's pretty damn obvious those two are foolin' around."
    "Obvious to you, maybe."
    "Yeah, obvious to me. You should have seen the way
    Octavia jumped to Nick's defense this afternoon when I cornered him down at the marina."
    "What the hell do you think you're doing, cornering my grandson?"
    "I was just makin' sure he understands he can't have his way with Octavia."
    "Damn it, Mitch-" Sullivan broke off abruptly and backtracked to the other part of Mitchell's comment. "What did you mean when you said Octavia jumped to his defense?"
    "She claimed he's sort of working for her."
    "Nick? Working for Octavia Brightwell? Doing what, for crying out loud?"
    "Playing private detective, I hear. Like that fellow in his novels."
    Sullivan struggled valiantly to hang onto the few remaining wisps of logic that still dangled from the conversation. "Why does Octavia need an investigator?"
    "Long story. That painting Thurgarton left to A.Z. and Virgil and the Heralds got stolen from her shop last night."
    "What was it doing in her gallery? Never mind. I assume she notified Valentine?"
    "Sure. But he's got his eye on the Heralds and she doesn't think he's looking in the right place. Neither does A.Z. or Virgil."
    "So she hired Nick." Sullivan sank down onto the corner of his desk and digested that information. "And he agreed to investigate?"
    "Appears that way."
    "This is bizarre."
    "Like I said, we've got a situation here, Sullivan. I hate to admit it, but I think I'm gonna need some help straightening this one out."
    "Now, just a minute-
    "I'll keep you posted."
    Mitchell cut the connection.
    Very slowly Sullivan reached across the desk and punched in another, very familiar number. He needed advice from the one person whose insight he had come to trust the most over the years.
    His wife, Rachel, answered on the second ring.
    "Something wrong?" she asked.
    "Why do you say that?" he grumbled.
    "Because it's the middle of the day and you're supposed to be deep into the intricacies of the