"You think I'm afraid of having an affair with you?"
"Yeah. That's exactly what I think."
"Maybe you're right." She sounded regretful but accepting of that possibility. "As you said, I've been under a lot of stress lately. It's difficult to sort out logic and emotions."
He followed her down the steps, shadowing her to the car. When she stopped beside the vehicle he stopped too, very close behind her. He reached around her, letting his fingers skim across the lush curve of her hip, and opened the door.
"I'll see you in the morning," he said. "Meanwhile, try to get some sleep."
She slipped into the front seat. "I'm sure I'll sleep just fine, thank you."
"Lucky you."
She started to put the key into the ignition and then paused. "One more thing I wanted to say."
He gripped the top of the car door. "What's that?"
"I think you should give Jeremy a call. Invite him out for a beer or whatever men do when they want to talk things over."
"Now, just why in hell would I want to do that?"
"Because you were once good friends and there's no reason why you can't be friends again. Deep down, he knows that you didn't have an affair with his wife."
She turned the key in the ignition, pulled the door shut, and drove away into the night.
Chapter 16
Nick knew it was going to be a bad day when he drove into the parking lot of the Incandescent Body bakery the following morning shortly after ten and saw the black limo sitting near the front door. The driver was behind the wheel, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper.
"I don't need this," Nick said to himself while Carson scrambled out of the backseat. "I definitely do not need this."
Carson looked up at him. "What don't you need, Dad?"
"You'll find out in a minute." He closed the rear door and started toward the entrance to the bakery.
"I'm gonna have hot chocolate and an orange muffin this time," Carson announced with relish. "And we can get some coffee and a muffin for Miss Brightwell, too, okay?"
"I'm gonna have to think about that." He was still feeling pretty pissed off by her parting remarks last night, he thought. She'd had a lot of nerve suggesting that he take the lead in repairing his shattered friendship with Jeremy.
Carson looked startled. "How come? We always bring her some coffee and a muffin."
"The situation is getting complicated."
"But we gotta take her coffee and a muffin. We always take her that stuff. She'spects it now. Dad, you promised you wouldn't do anything to make her mad."
"Okay, okay, we'll get her coffee and a muffin."
He opened the door of the bakery. Carson spotted the two men sitting at the small table immediately. Excitement galvanized him into motion. He raced forward at full speed.
"Great-Granddad." Carson looked back over his shoulder. "Dad, it's Great-Granddad. He's here."
"I noticed," Nick said. He met Sullivan's eyes over the top of Carson's head. Then he flicked a glance at Mitchell, who was looking smug. "What a surprise."
He took his time following Carson to the table where the two men sat together over coffee. Two canes were propped against one of the chairs. Misleading, those canes, Nick thought. At first glance you might make the mistake of assuming that they indicated weakness. Nothing could be further from the truth.
He had seen photos of Mitch and Sullivan when they had been in the military together decades earlier. They had been young men in their prime at the time, strong and competent, ready to take on their futures. But the picture had been taken shortly after they had survived the hell of combat in a far-off jungle, and the experience had left an indelible imprint on them. If you looked closely, you could still see it in their eyes today. These were two very tough men, the kind you wanted at your back if you decided to walk down a dark alley.
They were also both stubborn as hell and downright bloody-minded when it came to getting their own way. But in fairness, Nick thought, those traits ran through every generation of both the Madison and the Harte families.
Sullivan grinned at Carson when the boy barreled to a halt at his chair. He gave Carson a hug and ruffled his hair affectionately.
"Hello there, sport, how are you doing?"
"Hi," Carson replied. "Did you come to see my picture in the art show? Cause if you did, you'll have to wait for a few days. The show isn't until next weekend. I did a picture of Winston."
"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."