Page 103 of Eclipse Bay

“Well, shoot and damn.” Mitchell gazed unhappily at the tip of his cane, then at Rafe. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any good ideas on what to do about this problem Madisons seem to have with females?”

“No.”

“Well, shoot and damn.”

“Yeah,” Rafe said. “Shoot and damn.”

“No sense asking Gabe. He’s no better with women than we are.”

“Apparently not.”

Mitchell glanced at Winston. The Schnauzer cocked his head in polite inquiry.

“No point asking him for advice, either,” Rafe said. “Hannah had him neutered.”

The night coalesced swiftly around them, deepening the somber atmosphere.

“I think there’s some irony here somewhere,” Rafe said eventually. “But I can’t be sure, because I never finished college.”

“Told you you’d regret dropping out.”

“I know. Look at me now. Doomed to go through life without knowing about stuff like irony and postmodernism. It’s almost enough to make a man regret a misspent youth.” Rafe paused. “But I’ll probably get over it.”

Mitchell nodded. “Fix yourself a whiskey and soda and take a long walk on the beach. Always worked for me.” He roused himself and went down the steps. “Tell you one thing,” he said over his shoulder as he strode toward the waiting SUV.

“What’s that?”

“You may not have finished college, but you’re a Madison.”

“So?”

“So, no Madison ever let anything stand in his way once he made up his mind to go after what he wanted. Remember what I said. You can’t shack up with Hannah forever. It’s not right. You’ve got to come up with a fix for this mess. Hear me?”

“I hear you.”

Mitchell opened the passenger-side door of the SUV and climbed in. Rafe and Winston watched the monster vehicle lumber off down the drive.

When the taillights disappeared, Rafe looked down at the dog. “You know, Winston, one of the reasons you and I get along so well is that you never hand out unsolicited advice.”

Winston yawned again, rose, and ambled back inside the house.

Mitchell peered at the road through the windshield. “I think those two need a little kick in the right place to get them moving in the right direction.”

“My advice is to stay out of the matter, sir,” Bryce said. “The conduct of close interpersonal relationships is not your strong point.”

“I don’t pay you for advice.”

“You have made that clear many times over the years.”

“Never seems to stop you from interfering.”

“That’s why you keep paying me, sir.”

“Hmmph.”

“I hate to ask,” Bryce said, “but do you have a plan to apply this kick you seem to feel your grandson and Miss Harte require?”

Mitchell drummed his fingers on the dash, thinking furiously. “I’m working on one.”

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