"I won't miss the show," Sullivan assured him. He gave Carson a gentle push toward the front counter. "Go get yourself a muffin on me."
"Okay." Carson hurried away.
Nick looked at Mitchell. "This is your doing, I assume?"
"Just thought your grandfather oughta be made aware of what was going on here in Eclipse Bay," Mitchell said with malevolent good cheer.
"I hear you've been busy lately, Nick." Sullivan picked up his coffee. "Trying to find a painting that used to belong to Thurgarton and seeing Octavia Brightwell on the side."
"Not necessarily in that order, but, yeah, that pretty much sums up my summer vacation so far." Accepting the inevitable, Nick grabbed a chair and sat down. "But I've got hopes that the situation will improve."
After lunch at Dreamscape and some hurried conversation with Rafe and Hannah, who were busy with a crowd in the restaurant, Nick and Sullivan took Carson and Winston down to the beach below the old mansion.
Sullivan watched his great-grandson dart all over the landscape, following Winston from one tide pool to another.
"One of these days you're going to have to get that boy a dog of his own," he said.
"When he turns six," Nick agreed.
"That's next month."
"Yeah, I know. Carson reminds me just about every day."
"Six years old." Sullivan shook his head in wonder. "Where the hell did the years go? I remember when I used to walk on this same beach with you and Hamilton and a dog named Joe."
"If this is another one of those little grandfatherly chats on the subject of how the years are slipping away and how Carson needs a mother and how it's time I got married again," Nick said, "could we just skip to the end? I've heard it so many times that I've got it memorized."
"Take it easy. We're all worried about you and Carson. Harte men are family men, you know that."
"Carson and I have plenty of family. Every time I turn around, I'm running into family. Take this morning, for example. I walk into the local bakery to get a cup of coffee and what do I see? Family."
"Not like a Harte to be playing the field at your age."
"I do not play the field."
"What do you call it when you have relationships with several different women?"
"I call it a social life. And for the record, I did not have those relationships simultaneously. Hell, I've only dated maybe a half dozen different women in the past three years. I don't think that's excessive."
"Your mother and your grandmother and your sisters do."
"They're all obsessed with the idea of getting me married again."
"They think you've got some kind of psychological block. They've all decided that you've got a problem with getting serious about another woman because you're afraid of losing her the way you lost Amelia."
Nick watched Carson poke at a hole in the sand with a long stick while he tried to decide how to respond to that. "What do you think?" he said at last.
"Me?" Sullivan seemed surprised to be asked for his opinion. He halted beside a rock. "I think you just haven't found the right woman."
Nick realized he had been braced for a lecture. He allowed himself to relax slightly. "Yeah, that's sort of how I see it, too."
"But Octavia is different, isn't she?"
So much for letting down his guard. "Mitchell sent for you, didn't he? That's why you're here."
"Mitch feels protective toward Octavia Brightwell."
"Octavia can take care of herself."
"What about you?" Sullivan asked quietly.
It took Nick a beat or two to grasp that. "Don't tell me that you're afraid that I'm the one who might be in trouble here."
Sullivan's gaze rested on Carson and Winston, who had moved on to explore the entrance of a shallow cave. "Got one question for you."
"What?"
"Did you give Octavia The Talk?"
"Damn. I'm starting to think that everyone in the Northwest knows all the details of my social life. A guy could get paranoid."
"You didn't answer my question. Did you give Octavia your patented lecture on the subject of keeping things light?"
"You know what? I'm not going to answer that question."
Sullivan nodded. "Things went wrong this time around, didn't they? Mitch was right."
"I think we'd better change the subject, Granddad."
"Probably a good idea. Relationship counseling isn't exactly my forte. But for what it's worth, I came here to see what was going on, not to put pressure on you. I figure you can handle your own love life without my interference."
Nick raised his brows. "I'm stunned. Since when did anyone in our family ever hesitate to apply pressure whenever the opportunity arose?"
Sullivan exhaled heavily. "I put enough pressure on you when you were growing up. Always figured you'd take over Harte Investments, you know."
"I know."
"I didn't handle it well that day when you came to me and told me that you were leaving the company. Lost my temper. Said some things I shouldn't have said."
"We both did," Nick said quietly.
"Hamilton cornered me in my office that same afternoon. He was mad as hell. Angrier than I'd ever seen him. Told me to back off and leave you alone. Told me that you and Lillian and Hannah all had the right to make your own choices in life the same way I'd made mine and that he wasn't going to stand by and let me pressure any of you into doing what I wanted you to do. He really let me have it that day."
"Dad said all that?" Nick was surprised. He had known that he'd had his father's support when he made the decision to leave the company but he hadn't realized that Hamilton had gone toe-to-toe with Sullivan over the issue.
"Yes. Looking back, I can see that he was trying to protect you and your sisters from the kind of pressure I'd put him under when he was growing up. I didn't mean to force anyone into a mold, you know. It's just that I had always had this vision of H.I. descending down through the family. I couldn't believe that my grandson didn't want what I had spent so much of my life creating."
"The thing is," Nick said, groping for the words he needed, "Harte was your creation. I needed something that was all mine."
"And you found it in your writing. I understand that now." Sullivan's jaw tightened. "Something I've always wondered, though."
Nick glanced at him warily. "What?"
"Was it your leaving Harte after your first book was published that put the strain on your marriage?"
Nick sucked in a deep breath. "How did you know?"
"I didn't. It was your grandmother who guessed that things weren't going so well between you and Amelia there at the end. She had a hunch that the problems started when you decided to quit Harte. She always felt that, for Amelia, the company was part of the deal."
He did not know what to say, Nick thought. He had never realized that anyone had known about the fault line in his marriage.
"Grandmother is right," he said after a moment. "Amelia was having an affair with the man who was flying the plane that day. I think that, if she had lived, there would have been a divorce. She wanted out."
"And you wouldn't have been able to handle her cheating. You're a Harte."
"Yeah."
"Figured it was something like that." Sullivan kept his attention on Carson and Winston. "That's the real reason why you've been so cautious about getting serious with another woman. Got burned once and you're a mite nervous about sticking your finger back in the fire."
"Shit. Seems like everyone is trying to psychoanalyze me these days."
Sullivan's brows bristled into a sharp frown. "Who's everyone? Far as I know, only Rachel figured out the problems between you and Amelia. We never mentioned them to anyone else in the family or outside, for that matter."
"I told Octavia about how it was between Amelia and me. She leaped to the same conclusion that Grandma did."
"Huh. Women. Always trying to analyze what makes a man tick."
"Yeah."
"If only they kn
ew how simple we really are."
"Better to keep 'em guessing," Nick said. "Probably makes us appear more interesting."
"True." Sullivan dug the tip of his cane into the coarse sand and started walking again. "Well, I think we've exhausted that subject. Tell me about this missing painting. You really trying to play private eye like that guy, John True, in your books?"
"I got into it because Virgil, A.Z., and Octavia asked me to look around a bit." Nick fell into step beside him. "They didn't think Valentine was looking in the right places, and they may have had a point. He suspects one of the Heralds probably took it and arranged to unload it in Seattle or Portland. He figures it's long gone."
"Mitch told me that much."
"I got a lot more serious about the situation after I heard the rumor that Octavia had been voted Most Likely Suspect."
"Octavia?" Sullivan scowled. "Now, that's interesting."
"I thought so." Never let it be said that the old man was losing it mentally, Nick thought. Sullivan had grasped the implications immediately. "Especially when you consider that she's well-liked here in town. It would have been a lot easier to cast suspicion on the Heralds, who are viewed as the local weirdos and outsiders."
"You figure it's personal, don't you? Someone is out to pin the blame on Octavia for some specific reason."
"That's how it looks to me."
"You sure she hasn't managed to piss off someone here in town? Maybe refused to market some artist who's decided to get even?"
"I don't think so." Nick shot him a searching glance. "I'm starting to wonder if this could be coming out of the past."
"Claudia Banner."
"Yes."
"But the only folks who got hurt when Claudia pulled off her scam all those years ago were Mitch and me. And we're both a little too old for revenge, even if we had a notion to go after it."
"I doubt if anyone gets too old for revenge if the motivation is strong enough, but I agree that you and Mitch are not the ones behind this. What I want to know is, do you think there's anyone else in Eclipse Bay who might harbor a grudge against Claudia Banner that would be big enough to make him go after Octavia?"
Sullivan contemplated that in silence for a while.
"If there's one thing I've learned about business in the past sixty years," he said finally, "it's that it's always personal. And when the deal involves as much cash as Claudia's scam did, there's usually a fair amount of collateral damage."
"Meaning maybe someone besides you and Mitchell Madison got hurt?"
"Could be. It's possible. I can't give you any names but I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go over this with Mitch. You know, he and I never really talked about the details of what happened when Claudia put us into bankruptcy. We were too busy blaming each other and firing up the feud. But maybe we can discuss it calmly now. Put our heads together and reconstruct events, so to speak."
"Thanks. Let me know if you come up with anyone who might still be so pissed off at Claudia Banner that he would go after her niece."
"All right. It's a long shot, though. You do realize that?"
"Sure. But that's all I've got at the moment. Long shots."
"I can see that." Sullivan came to a halt and stabbed the cane into the sand a few times. He gave Nick a beatific smile. "Now that that's settled, how about I do you a favor and give you some time to yourself?"
"You offering to babysit?"
"Figured I'd take Carson back to Portland with me for a few days. Lillian and I can look after him while Gabe and Hamilton argue about the details of the merger. You'll have time to work on finding that missing painting."
"Sure. If he wants to go, you're welcome to take him with you, but don't pretend that you're trying to do me any favors. You just want another opportunity to mold him in your image. You think you can turn him into the next major empire builder in the family."
"You've got to admit, the boy's got a flair for business."
Sullivan chuckled. "Remember how much money he made off that lemonade stand he set up in front of the house a few months ago when you brought him down to Phoenix? Talk about a natural aptitude."
Nick regarded his son playing with Winston and felt a rush of pride. "We'll see."
"We will, indeed. By the way, don't tell me that I'm not doing you any favors by removing young Carson from the vicinity for a while. I'd think you'd appreciate me giving you a little space in which to do your courting."
"Courting." Nick stumbled over a rocky outcropping. He caught his balance and glowered at Sullivan. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I figure I owe you that much," Sullivan continued smoothly, "after the way I tried to coerce you into taking over Harte Investments. And I've got to say, I think you've made a fine choice. I'm rather fond of Octavia."
"Damn it, who said anything about me courting Octavia Brightwell?"
"Gives me a good feeling to be helping you out like this. I do believe I'm getting downright sentimental in the twilight of my life."
"Twilight, my ass. You're not getting sentimental, you're still trying to run things, the way you always have."
"What can I say? It's in the blood."
They set out for Portland two hours later. Sullivan waited until they passed the You Are Now Leaving Eclipse Bay sign before he picked up the cell phone and punched out Mitchell's number.
"Well?" Mitchell demanded. "Did you get Nick straightened out?"
Sullivan glanced at Carson seated beside him. The boy was immersed in a book about dogs. "There's no need to worry about my grandson's, uh, association with Miss Brightwell."
Mitchell snorted loudly on the other end. "So you say."
"You'll have to take my word on that subject, Mitch. Meanwhile, something has come up in regard to that missing painting. Nick's got a hunch that there's a personal angle here. He thinks the thief might be someone who is still holding a grudge because of what happened when Claudia took Harte-Madison apart."
"But you and I were the ones who went bankrupt all those years ago. As far as I know we were the only people who got ripped off. Why the hell would anyone else still hold a grudge?"
"I don't know. I suggest we start with a list of everyone we knew at the time who might have had anything to do with Claudia and Harte-Madison."
"That's gonna take some thinking."
"I know. Tell you what. You put your list together and I'll make up mine. Then we can talk and compare notes. Maybe something will hit us."
"I'll see what I can do." Mitch paused. "You're sure Nick is gonna get his act together with Octavia?"
"Count on it."
Sullivan ended the call and looked at Carson. "Picked out the kind of dog you want?"
"I want one just like Winston."
"Can't go wrong with another Winston." Sullivan ruffled the boy's hair, then reached into his briefcase. "That reminds me, I brought a printout of your investment portfolio with me. Want to see how those lemonade profits are doing?"
Carson slammed the dog book closed. "How much money did I make?" he asked excitedly.
"You did very well with those ten shares in Fast Toy, Inc."
"I told you they made good toys."
"So you did." Sullivan put the brokerage statement on the seat between them. "Take a look at that bottom line. You made three hundred dollars."
"Oh, wow." Carson snatched up the statement and immediately started asking questions about the various entries.
Sullivan settled back against the seat and prepared to indulge himself in one of his favorite hobbies: teaching his eager great-grandson the finer points of investment strategies.
Life was good, he thought. He had Carson, and two hours ago Hannah had informed him that he was soon to become a great-grandfather for the second time. Judging by the intimacy and the joy he witnessed when he was with Gabe and Lillian, he was almost certain there would be more good news coming from that quarter one of these days.
All he had to do was get Nick and Octavia on the right t
rack and life would be damn near perfect.
Chapter 17
An eerie green light emanated from Arizona's War Room. Octavia studied the glow seeping around the edge of the heavy steel door with great interest.
"Think maybe she's thawing some of those frozen space aliens she claimed the institute was trying to hide a few months ago?" she asked.
"When it comes to A.Z. and her conspiracy theories, nothing would surprise me." Nick pushed open the door and stood back to allow Octavia to enter the room.
In any normal house, the space would probably have been described by the architect as a study. But Arizona didn't live in a normal house. Her cabin was fortified with locking metal shutters on all the windows. The doors had been reinforced with steel bolts. Rumor had it that Arizona had six months' worth of supplies and food stored on the premises.
Octavia had lived in Eclipse Bay long enough to know that the reason no one in town got nervous about Arizona was because it was a fact that she had no interest in weapons of any kind. In her bizarre fantasy world, her mission was to collect and analyze intelligence data on the various conspiracies she was certain lay just below the surface at the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute. The fact that the institute dismissed her as a quaint, local eccentric suited Arizona just fine. As she had explained to Octavia on one occasion, the disdain from the institute staff only made her job of spying on them simpler.
Octavia stepped into the War Room and saw that the mysterious green light radiated from a computer screen. Three people garbed in flowing robes and wearing a lot of the vaguely Egyptian-style jewelry favored by the Heralds sat hunched over the table. Two of them were going through heavy, leather-bound log books. The third was pounding away on the keyboard. They barely glanced up when Octavia and Nick entered.
There was a spartan, military-spare look to the furnishings. A large topographical map of Eclipse Bay was laminated to the surface of a massive desk. Rows of log books were arranged on the metal shelving that lined one wall.
Arizona, dressed in her customary camouflage-patterned fatigues, occupied the aging wooden chair behind the desk. A chubby, unlit cigar stuck out of the corner of her mouth. The narrow beam from the desk lamp was aimed low to illuminate the topo map. Most of Arizona's face was in shadow.
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