“Yes.”
“So her death must have been an accident.”
Rafe said nothing.
Hannah cleared her throat. “I said, her death must have been an accident.”
“That’s certainly the most convenient explanation for all concerned.”
Shock held Hannah absolutely still for a few seconds. She finally found her breath and let it out very deliberately. “You want to elaborate on that?”
“No point.” Rafe sipped his brandy. “Not now.”
“You’re probably right. I guess we’ll never know what really happened that night.”
“No.”
Rafe was quiet for a while. She had the feeling that he had moved onto some other subject in his mind. Whatever it was, he did not seem to be inclined to discuss it, either.
She tried not to be so acutely aware of him reclining there so close beside her, but it was hopeless. Probably time to go home, she thought. Make thatdefinitely. She was about to mention that it was getting late when Rafe spoke.
“Somthing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Umm?”
“What went wrong with Mr. Right?”
For some reason that was the last question she had expected. She hesitated, not certain how far she wanted to go down that particular road.
“It didn’t work out. What about you?” she added quickly to change the subject. “Heard you got married.”
“For a while.”
“What went wrong?”
“I told you that the men in my family aren’t real good at marriage,” he said.
“As I recall, I told you that was an excuse.”
Without warning, Rafe sat up on the edge of the lounger and rested his forearms on his knees. “Mitchell called today.”
Hannah blinked. He could switch topics quickly, too. “Your grandfather?”
“He wants me to come to dinner tomorrow night. Octavia Brightwell will be there. Says he wants me to meet her.”
Hannah thought quickly. “Brightwell. The owner of that new art gallery near the pier?”
“Yeah.” Rafe set his glass down on the table. “Apparently they’re involved, so to speak.”
“Good grief. I saw her on the street the other day. She’s young enough to be his granddaughter.”
“So I’m told.” He met her eyes in the shadows. “The thing is, I need a date.”
She nearly fell out of the lounger. “You want me to go to dinner at Mitchell Madison’s house?”
“Got anything better to do?”
“Well, gee, when you put it like that, I guess not. As you once observed so pithily, the entertainment options in Eclipse Bay are somewhat limited.” She paused. “Your grandfather won’t be exactly thrilled to see you walk into the house with a Harte.”
