Summer in Eclipse Bay eb-3

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Carson was pleased. "I told Dad you'd like this one best. I brought my crayon with me. I can add some more fur if you want."

  "No, I think he has precisely the right amount of fur," Octavia said decisively. "I'll hang this one in the show."

  Carson bounced a little with excitement. "Will you frame it?"

  "Of course. I'm going to frame all of the pictures in the show." She looked at him. "You forgot to sign it."

  "I'll do it now." Carson whipped out his crayon and went to work inscribing his first name in large block letters in the right-hand corner of the picture. "I almost forgot," he added, not looking up from the task, "I promised Dad that if you liked my picture, I'd tell you that it was okay to go out with him."

  A stunned hush enveloped the gallery. Nick looked at Octavia. Her veiled expression never flickered, but he saw something that might have been speculation in her eyes. Or was that just his imagination?

  Oblivious to the electricity he had just generated, Carson concentrated intently on printing the last letters of his name.

  "Sorry about that," Nick muttered.

  "No problem," Octavia murmured.

  There was another short, extremely uncomfortable silence.

  "So?" Octavia said.

  He frowned. "So, what?"

  "So, are you going to ask me out again?"

  "Uh-" He hadn't been caught this far off guard since high school. He felt like an idiot. He could only hope that he was not turning red. Something had changed in the situation, but he was at a loss to know what had happened. Only one way to find out, he thought. "Dinner tonight?"

  She hesitated; honest regret showed on her face. He'd seen that look before.

  "You're busy, right?" he said without inflection. A cold feeling coalesced in his gut. He couldn't believe she'd set him up like that.

  "Well, I did promise Virgil Nash that I'd drive out to the Thurgarton house after I close the gallery this afternoon.

  He and Arizona Snow want my opinion on some paintings that they discovered stashed in one of Thurgarton's closets. The thing is, I don't know how long it will take me."

  He relaxed. Maybe she hadn't set him up, after all.

  "Forever," he said.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "It'll take you forever to even find the old Thurgarton place unless Virgil gave you really, really good directions. Thurgarton liked his privacy. There's no sign on the road leading to the turnoff, and the drive is hidden in the trees."

  "Oh." Her fine, red-brown brows wrinkled delicately in a small frown. "Virgil gave me a little map."

  "Forget it," he said easily. "I'll pick you up after you close the gallery this afternoon and drive you out there. Later we can go to dinner."

  "I suppose that might work," she said.

  She sounded so damn casual, he thought. As if the decision she had just made weren't staggering in its implications. As if it weren't going to alter destinies and change the fate of nations.

  Okay, he could deal with the world shifting in its orbit. What really worried him was the question of why it had done so. After six turn-downs in a row, the Fairy Queen of Eclipse Bay had agreed to go out with him.

  Lucky number seven.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  Chapter 4

  The little girl with the glossy brown hair and the big, dark eyes was back.

  Octavia was discussing the merits of a charming seascape with a middle-aged tourist couple when she caught sight of the youngster on the sidewalk outside. This was the second time this week that the girl had appeared. On the first occasion she had been accompanied by her mother, a pretty but quietly determined-looking woman who wore the unmistakable cloak of single parenthood. The pair had wandered into the gallery and looked at pictures for a long time. The child had been as absorbed in the works of art as her mother-an unusual event. Most kids found the paintings boring in the extreme.

  The woman had greeted Octavia politely and made it plain that she was not there to buy, just to look around. She had clearly been braced for a cool reception, but Octavia had assured her that she was welcome to browse.

  The woman and her daughter had moved from picture to picture, talking seriously in low tones about some of them, showing little interest in others. They had been standing in front of a brilliant abstract when the woman had glanced at her watch, frowned in alarm, and hurried out of the gallery with the little girl.

  The woman had not returned, but her daughter was here again, standing on the other side of the glass staring at the colorful poster in the window that announced the Children's Art Show.

  I'm not going to lose her this time, Octavia thought. "Excuse me," she said to the couple contemplating the purchase of the seascape. "I'll be right back."

  She hurried behind the sales counter, reached down, and selected a large box of crayons from a carton that was nearly empty. She took a pad of drawing paper from the dwindling pile.

  Crayons and pad in hand, she straightened quickly and looked out the window. The little girl was still there.

  Octavia crossed the gallery, opened the front door, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The child turned, looking a bit startled.

  "Hello," Octavia said. "Would you like to enter a picture in the art show?"

  The child stared at her. She did not speak. "Every entrant gets a box of crayons and a pad of drawing paper," Octavia explained. "The rule is that the picture has to be on a piece of paper the size of one of these." She flipped through the blank sheets of drawing paper. "When it's ready, bring it back here."

  The girl's anxious gaze shifted from Octavia's face to the pad of drawing paper and the crayons. She put her hands behind her back, evidently afraid that she might lose control and reach out to grab the art supplies.

  She shook her head very fiercely.

  "Anne?"

  The woman who had accompanied the girl into the gallery a few days ago rushed out of Seaton's Antiques. Her head swiveled rapidly as she searched the sidewalk in both directions with the slightly frantic look a mother gets when she turns around and realizes her offspring has disappeared.

  "Anne, where are you?"

  "I'm here, Mom," Anne whispered.

  Her mother swung around. Relief flashed across her face. The expression was followed by stern exasperation.

  "You must not disappear like that." She walked swiftly toward her daughter. "How many times have I told you not to run off without telling me where you're going? This may not be Seattle, but the same rules apply."

  "I was just looking in the window," Anne said in a tiny, barely audible voice. She kept her small hands secured very tightly behind her back. "I didn't touch anything, honest."

  Octavia studied the woman coming toward her. Anne's mother appeared to be in her late twenties but if you had only seen her eyes, you would have added twenty years to her age.

  "Hello," Octavia said in her best professional tone. "I'm Octavia Brightwell. You were in my gallery the other day."

  "I'm Gail Gillingham." Gail smiled hesitantly. "I'm sorry if Anne was bothering you."

  "Not in the least," Octavia said cheerfully. "I noticed that she was looking at the poster featuring the Children's Art Show. I thought she might like to participate. I have room for more pictures."

  Gail looked down at Anne. "Thank you, but I'm afraid Anne is very shy."

  "Who cares?" Octavia looked at Anne. "Lots of artists are shy. I'll tell you what, why don't you take these crayons and the paper home with you? You can draw your picture in private where no one else can watch you at work. When it's ready, just ask your mother to drop it off here at the gallery."

  Anne looked at the crayons and the paper as though they were made of some magical, insubstantial substance that might disintegrate if she were to touch them.

  Octavia did not say anything more. She just smiled encouragingly and held out the crayons and the paper.

  For a long moment, Anne did not move. Then, very slowly she untwisted her arms from behind h
er back, reached out, and took the supplies from Octavia. Clutching them tightly to her chest, she stepped back and looked at her mother.

  Surprise and a fleeting delight lit Gail's face. An instant later her pleasure was marred by what seemed to be uncertainty. She hesitated and then seemed to brace herself.

  "How much do I owe you for the crayons and the paper?" she asked.

  "The Children's Art Show has been underwritten by the Bright Visions gallery, which is sponsoring it," Octavia said. "All the entrants receive the same basic supplies."

  "Oh, I see." Gail relaxed visibly. "Thank Miss Brightwell for the crayons and paper, Anne."

  "Thank you," Anne repeated in the barest of whispers.

  "You're welcome," Octavia said. "I'll look forward to seeing your picture."

  Anne tightened her grip on the art supplies and said nothing. She still looked as if she expected the crayons and paper to vaporize in her arms.

  At that moment, a familiar silver BMW pulled into the small parking lot at the end of the row of shops. Octavia's stomach fluttered. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost five-thirty. Nick was right on time.

  Gail gave Octavia a grateful smile. "I don't know if Anne will actually do a picture for your art show, but she loves to draw and paint. She will definitely use the supplies."

  "Excellent," Octavia said. She looked at Anne. "But I really hope you'll make a special drawing for the show. If you do, you can choose the color of the frame."

  "You're gonna put it in a frame?" she asked in astonishment.

  "Of course."

  "So it will look like a real picture?" Anne pointed toward the framed paintings hanging inside the gallery. "Like one of those?"

  "Yes," Octavia said. "It will look like a real picture because it will be a real picture. Just like one of those inside my gallery."

  Anne was clearly dazzled by the prospect.

  "Come along, Anne," Gail said. "We have to stop at the store and then we have to go home to help Grandma fix dinner."

  "Okay."

  Anne and Gail moved off toward the small parking lot. Nick was out of his car now, walking toward the gallery. He wore a long-sleeved, crew neck tee shirt and a pair of jeans. The snug fit of the shirt emphasized the contours of his strong shoulders and flat belly.

  He paused to greet Gail and Anne with a friendly nod and a few words. When the short conversation was finished, Gail and her daughter got into an aging Chevrolet.

  Nick continued toward the gallery.

  Edith came to stand on the sidewalk next to Octavia.

  "Such a sad situation." Edith shook her head and made a tut-tut sound when Gail and Anne drove past them down the street.

  Octavia waved at Anne, who gazed fixedly at her through the car window. Hesitantly the girl raised a small hand in response.

  "I assume you're talking about Gail and Anne?" Octavia said, watching Nick.

  "Yes. Gail is the daughter of Elmore and Betty Johnson, the folks who run Johnson's Nursery and Garden Supply. She was such a pretty girl back in high school. Bright, too. Went off to college in Seattle." She paused and smiled at Nick when he came to a halt in front of her.

  "Afternoon, Mrs. Seaton. Nice day."

  "It is, indeed. I was just telling Octavia how Gail went off to college in Seattle and ended up married to that investor fellow who left her a couple of years ago and ran off with the decorator who redid his office."

  "I'm afraid I didn't keep up with the gossip at the time," Nick said in a repressive tone that was clearly meant to change the subject. "I had my hands full in Portland."

  "Gail got almost nothing out of the divorce, they say," Edith continued, oblivious to the unsubtle hint. "Word is her husband stashed all his assets on one of those little islands in the Caribbean, declared bankruptcy, and left the state. Never sees his daughter, of course."

  "Poor little Anne," Octavia said.

  "Ready to go?" Nick said pointedly to Octavia.

  She glanced over her shoulder and saw that her potential clients were still contemplating a purchase. "In a few minutes."

  "Gail lost her job in Seattle a couple of months ago and now she's back here in Eclipse Bay. She's living with her folks while she looks for work. Money is tight."

  "She's job hunting?" Octavia looked down the street. Gail's Chevy had disappeared around a corner. "Is that why she was in your shop?"

  "Yes. Unfortunately, I had to tell her that I just don't do enough business to warrant hiring an assistant. I gather she's tried several other places with no luck."

  "Hmm," Octavia said.

  Chapter 5

  The middle-aged couple left a short time later with their newly acquired seascape wrapped in brown paper.

  Octavia set the security alarm, locked the door of the gallery, and dropped her keys into the spacious bag that hung from her right shoulder.

  Nick gave her an enigmatic smile and put on his sunglasses.

  She would have given a lot to be able to read his mind at that moment, she thought. Then again, maybe it was better not to know what he was thinking. The knowledge would only have made her more tense. She was still wondering if this burst of recklessness was going to prove to be a disaster.

  They walked together toward the parking lot. When they reached the BMW, he opened the door on the passenger side and held it for her. She searched his face quickly, looking for any concealed signs of triumph. She saw none. If anything, she thought, he seemed as wary as she felt.

  Now that was an interesting development.

  She collected the folds of her skirt in one hand and slipped into the front seat. "What did you do with Carson?"

  "He's spending the evening with Rafe and Hannah out at Dreamscape," Nick said.

  "Oh." She realized she had become accustomed to seeing Nick and Carson together during the past two weeks. "Will he be joining us for dinner later?" He smiled. "This is my date, not Carson's." He closed the car door very deliberately. She watched him walk around the front of the vehicle. He moved with an easy, fluid grace that was at once relaxed and purposeful. Probably the way most top-of-the-food-chain predators moved when they were going out to grab a gazelle for dinner, she thought. Fascinating, exciting. More than a little dangerous.

  The sense of deep, sensual appreciation that swept through her caught her by surprise. She was still slightly awed by her decision to go out with him. Until tonight, the only big risks she had ever taken in life had involved the buying and selling of art. She trusted her intuition when it came to taking chances on unknown painters. But she had always been cautious when it came to men.

  Nick got behind the wheel and closed the door. The interior of the BMW suddenly felt overwhelmingly intimate. She realized she was holding her breath.

  "Couple of things you should know," she said carefully when he made to slip the key into the ignition. "The first is that, in case your grandfather hasn't told you, Claudia Banner was my great-aunt." Dead silence.

  Nick did not fire up the engine. Instead, he twisted slightly in the seat and rested his right arm on the back. He watched her very steadily through his dark glasses.

  "Want to run that past me again?" he said.

  "I'm related to Claudia Banner. The woman who-"

  "Trust me, I know who Claudia Banner is."

  "Was. My aunt died a year and a half ago."

  "I see." Nick waited a beat. "This is for real? Not a joke of some kind?"

  "No, it's not a joke." She gripped her bag very tightly in her lap. "Does it change things? Do you want to call off the date?"

  "My grandfather knows who you are?"

  "Yes. Sullivan and Mitchell both know. They figured it out the night of Lillian's show." She cleared her throat. "Obviously they haven't told anyone else in either family yet."

  "Yeah. Obviously." He tapped the key absently against the leather seat back. "Well, hell."

  "Is this a problem for you?"

  "I'm thinking," he said. "Give me a minute."

 
"Look, if you're that rattled, I can find my own way out to Thurgarton's place."

  "It isn't a problem and I'm not rattled." He took off his dark glasses and examined her with cool, faintly narrowed eyes. "I just find this news a little unexpected, that's all. It raises a few questions."

  "I know. I answered some of them for Mitchell and I can do the same for you." She glanced pointedly at her watch. "But not now. We need to get going. I promised Virgil I'd meet him and the others at six."

  "Right." He turned back and twisted the key in the ignition. The powerful engine growled softly. "I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop."

  "The other shoe?"

  "You said there were a couple of things I needed to know." He checked his mirrors and reversed out of the parking space.

  "I'll be leaving town at the end of the summer."

  He shot her a quick glance and she knew that the news had taken him by surprise.

  "You're leaving Eclipse Bay?"

  "Yes, I'm going to sell the gallery."

  He seemed to relax slightly. He gave an understanding inclination of his head. "Not surprised the gallery here isn't working. Makes sense to concentrate on the Portland branch."

  She watched the road through the windshield. "Both galleries are successful, as a matter of fact. But I'm going to sell both branches."

  "Getting out of the art business altogether?"

  "Not that easy." She smiled slightly. "It isn't just a business. More of a calling, I'm afraid. I can't imagine not being involved in art. A couple of months ago I was offered a position in a large gallery in San Diego. I don't have to give them my official decision until next month, but I'm leaning strongly toward accepting the offer."

  "San Diego, huh?"

  "It's not a certainty. There's also a possibility that I'm looking at in Denver."

  "I see."

  He drove in silence for a few minutes, piloting the BMW carefully through the small business district, past the pier, the town's single gas station, and the Incandescent Body bakery.

  "Sounds like you're cutting a lot of ties all at once," Nick said eventually. "Is that wise?"

  "I don't have any personal ties in the Northwest. I didn't even move to Portland or open the galleries until a couple of months after Aunt Claudia died."