Dawn in Eclipse Bay (11 page)

“Carole Rhoades. I got to know her when she did a little fund-raising for Trevor at her law firm last year.”

He identified the name immediately. Carole Rhoades was one of the five women Lillian had matched with him.

“Portland sure is a small town in some ways, isn't it?” he said. “Almost as small as Eclipse Bay.”

“It's not the size of the town, it's the size of the universe in which you move.” She swung one long leg. “People who run companies like Madison Commercial tend to circulate in certain limited spheres.”

“I can see I need to get out more. Broaden my horizons.”

She chuckled. “I hear the date with Carole was a bust.”

“And here I thought we'd had a very pleasant evening.”

“She said she was home by ten o'clock and you didn't even try to invite yourself in for a nightcap. She said it was obvious that you would much rather have been at your desk.”

“Damn. Women talk about stuff like that?”

“Of course they do.”

“I'll have to keep that in mind.” He turned his wrist slightly to check his watch. “You want to tell me why you're here?”

Her smile stayed in place but he thought he saw it tighten a notch or two.

“You make it sound as though the only thing that might bring me here is business.”

“Whenever we've run into each other during the past few years, you've usually hit me up for a campaign donation for Trevor.”

“Which you have always declined to give.”

“Madisons aren't real big on political campaign contributions.”

“I realize that you never supported Trevor but things have changed—”

A brisk knock on the back door interrupted her before she could finish the sentence.

Gabe straightened away from the wall. “Looks like my guest decided to walk instead of drive this evening.”

He went through the ancient kitchen and opened the back door.

Lillian stood inside the glass-enclosed rear porch, a large, well-stuffed grocery bag in her arms. She wore the hooded iridescent rain cloak he'd seen in Portland, although it had not yet begun to rain. The cloak was unfastened, revealing the black turtleneck and black trousers she had on underneath. The tunic-length top was slashed with a lightning bolt of intense turquoise.

“I thought you were going to drive over,” he said.

“Walking seemed faster.”

“It's almost dark.”

“So what? This is Eclipse Bay, not the big bad city.”

“Listen, tough lady, you ought to know better than to run around an unlit, sparsely inhabited stretch of coastline after dark.”

“You want to help me with this grocery sack or would you rather stand there and lecture me for a while?”

“Give me the damn sack.”

“My, you're in a swell mood tonight.”

“Uninvited company.” He took the sack from her and stood back. “Marilyn Thornley. She won't be staying long.”

“That's good, because I didn't bring enough food for three.”

The weight of the grocery sack belied that claim, but he did not argue the point. He set it on the counter without comment.

Marilyn appeared in the kitchen doorway. She gave Lillian the same glowing grin she'd used on Gabe.

“Lillian. It's been ages. Good to see you again.”

“Hello, Marilyn. Been a while,” she responded sweetly.

“I didn't mean to intrude on your little dinner party,” Marilyn said. “I heard Gabe was in town. Thought I'd stop in and say hello.”

“Doing a little fund-raising?” Lillian asked smoothly.

“Rumor has it that you're going into politics on your own, now that Trevor is no longer in the picture.”

There was a short, brittle silence during which neither woman's smile faltered.

“Gabe and I were just talking about how fast word travels in this town,” Marilyn said with a slight edge on her voice.

“I ran into Pamela McCallister at Fulton's Supermarket this afternoon,” Lillian said. “Her husband, Brad, is on the faculty at Chamberlain but he has a joint appointment at the institute. He says you've already got your campaign staff organized and that you've put Claire Jensen in charge.”

“You know Claire?”

“Yes. I haven't seen much of her in recent years but we worked together at a local restaurant one summer when we were both in college. She always said she wanted to go into politics.”

“Claire worked very hard on Trevor's staff. She's had a lot of experience. I think she's ready to head up a campaign.”

“I hear you've got your sites on a seat in the U.S. Senate.”

There was another brittle pause. Gabe helped Lillian with her rain cloak.

“Yes,” Marilyn said.

“Expensive,” Lillian murmured.

“Yes,” Marilyn said again. “Politics is an expensive pursuit.”

Lillian went to the counter, reached into the grocery sack and removed a plastic bag containing a head of darkgreen broccoli. “Probably not a lot of money left over after Trevor bowed out of the race last fall.”

“No.”

“The Thornley campaign did a lot of media, as well. The television commercials must have cost a fortune.”

“You're right,” Marilyn said in a low voice. “The ads wiped out most of the war chest. We knew going in that they would be expensive, but you can't win elections without television.” She paused. “There were also some additional, unplanned expenses toward the end.”

The sudden anger in her voice made both Gabe and Lillian look at her.

“We were so close. So damned close,” Marilyn said bitterly.

“I'm sorry it all fell apart,” Lillian said quietly. “I know it must have been a blow.”

“You don't have to pretend that you don't know what happened,” Marilyn said. “I'm sure you heard the rumors about the videos.”

Gabe exchanged a glance with Lillian. They were both aware of the story behind the videos that had disappeared when the former editor of the
Eclipse Bay Journal
had been arrested a few months ago. The missing films purported to show Trevor Thornley cavorting in high heels and ladies' undergarments.

“I heard that those tapes, assuming they ever actually existed, were destroyed,” Gabe said neutrally. “No one I know has ever seen them.”

“That bastard, Jed Steadman, lied about having destroyed them without looking at them. He made copies.” Marilyn's voice roughened with tightly controlled rage.

“He blackmailed Trevor from jail. Said he needed the money for his trial.”

Gabe exhaled slowly. “That was the unexpected additional campaign expense you mentioned? Blackmail payments to Jed Steadman?”

“Steadman was too smart to approach me,” Marilyn said. “He contacted Trevor. And that idiot
paid
him off. I couldn't believe it. When I discovered that he was actually making blackmail payments I knew the campaign was finished. But Trevor thought he could keep it all hushed up. He did not even begin to comprehend what we were up against.”

“You walked out and Trevor was forced to quit the race,” Lillian said.

“There wasn't any other viable option. It was obvious that Trevor was going down, but that didn't mean that I had to go down with him.” Marilyn looked at Gabe. “Politics is a lot like any other business. You have to know when to cut your losses.”

“Sure,” Gabe said, keeping his voice very even. “I can see the parallels.”

Marilyn blinked rapidly once or twice, realizing she'd gone too far. “So much for catching up on my personal news. It's getting late. I'll leave you two to your private little dinner party. Nice to see you both.”

She turned away from the kitchen and started toward the front door.

Gabe looked at Lillian. She raised her brows but said nothing.

“I'll walk you out to your car,” he called to Marilyn.

He caught up with her and together they went out onto the porch. The fast-moving storm clouds had cut off what little was left of the sunset's afterglow. He switched on the porch light. The wind had grown stronger while they had been inside the cottage. The limbs of the fir trees at the edge of the drive were stirring briskly.

Marilyn put up a well-manicured hand to keep her hair in place. She looked at her Mercedes, not at him.

“Do you ever wonder how things might have worked out for us if we hadn't broken up?” she asked in a pensive voice.

“‘Never look back' is about the closest thing we Madisons have to a family motto.”

“You've never married.”

“Been busy for the past few years.”

“Yes, I know. So have I. Sure wish I could adopt your family motto.” Her mouth twisted sadly. “When I think of all the time I invested in Trevor's career, I feel almost physically ill. Looking back, I can't believe I made such a huge mistake. How could I have been so stupid, Gabe?”

“We all make the best choices we can with the information we have available at the time we have to make them. None of us ever has enough information to be absolutely sure we're making the right choice.”

“We've followed separate paths for a while,” she said. “But now we seem to be circling back toward each other. Strange how life works, isn't it?”

“Strange, all right.”

She unfolded her arms and reached up to touch his cheek very lightly with her fingertips. “Enjoy your dinner with Lillian.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You know, if anyone had suggested a few days or months or years ago that you might find her attractive, I would have laughed. But now that I'm going through the breakup of my marriage, I view male-female relationships in a different light.”

“Light is funny. Did you know that if you put it into corn bread dough, it makes terrific muffins?”

“I understand the appeal that Lillian has for you, Gabe.”

“You might want to take it easy on the way back to the main road. The rains must have been heavy last month. They washed out a chunk of the drive.”

“Your family and hers have a very tangled history.”

“I think I hear my cell phone ringing.” He patted his pockets.

“Don't forget, I know you well from the old days. I remember very clearly how you measured your own success against that of Harte Investments. I can only imagine how tempting it would be for you to marry Lillian and graft a third of her family's company onto Madison Commercial. In a way, it would be the ultimate triumph for you, wouldn't it?”

“Must have left the damn thing in the house.”

He took a step back toward the partially opened door.

“I know you probably aren't interested in any advice from me,” Marilyn said. “But for the sake of the past we share, I'm going to give you some, anyway. Don't marry just to prove something to yourself or because you think it would be worth it to add a chunk of Harte Investments to your empire. I married Trevor for reasons that had nothing to do with love. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

She went down the steps, got into the Mercedes and drove away.

He watched the taillights until they disappeared, listening to the wind, aware of the oncoming storm.

“Going to donate to her campaign?” Lillian questioned.

He turned around slowly, wondering how long she had been standing there on the other side of the screen door.

“Don't think so.” He opened the door and walked into the warmth of the house. “Ready to work on dinner?”

“Sure. I've worked up quite an appetite. Spent the day setting up my studio in the spare bedroom at the cottage. I'm starving.”

She turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Had she overheard Marilyn's crack about marrying her to get a chunk of Harte Investments?

He went to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. A variety of vegetables, including the broccoli, stood on the counter. A wedge of parmesan cheese wrapped in plastic and a package of pasta were positioned nearby.

“Looks like some assembly required,” he said.

“We're both smart people. I think we can get this done.” She picked up a small knife and went to work on a yellow bell pepper. “Why don't you pour us a glass of wine? Probably make things go more smoothly.”

“Good idea.” He moved out of the doorway, opened a drawer and removed a corkscrew.

Lillian concentrated on the bell pepper.

He should probably say something, he thought. But he wasn't sure what she expected from him. How much had she overheard?

“Marilyn just showed up a few minutes before you got here,” he said. “Out of the blue.”

“She'll be back. You've got something she wants.”