Page 108 of Eclipse Bay

Rafe tried distraction first.

“A.Z.’s got a strange view of the world, but she doesn’t make things up out of thin air,” he said. “She thinks that logbook was stolen. I’m inclined to believe her.”

“It’s been eight years. She probably misplaced it.”

“Not A.Z. She’s one well-organized conspiracy theorist. Trust me.” He downshifted as he drove past the pier. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll say it does. It was bad enough when people suspected that we were having an affair. But now the whole town apparently thinks that we’re living together openly out there at Dreamscape.”

“We are. Sort of.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Well, no, not really. Hannah, I’m trying to hold a rational conversation here. We were discussing the missing logbook, if you will recall.”

“It bothers me. I realize that you Madisons are accustomed to being gossiped about here in Eclipse Bay. But we Hartes try to avoid being the subject of idle rumors and speculation.”

She was tight and wired, Rafe realized. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts. Her face was pinched with irritation.

“People have been talking about us since the day we arrived,” he said evenly. “It didn’t seem to bother you so much at first. Why are you going ballistic now?”

“I’m getting tired of it.” She looked out at the bay. “I thought everything would be settled by now. It all seemed so simple back at the beginning. I would buy out your share of Dreamscape and start work on my inn. But things just keep getting more complicated.”

“By ‘things,’” he said carefully, “I assume you are talking about our relationship, not the possibility that we may have awakened a sleeping murderer?”

“Yes, I am talking about our relationship.”

He gripped the wheel and braced himself. “Okay. You want to discuss that instead of the missing logbook?”

“No.”

He drew a deep breath. He should be feeling relieved, he thought. But for some reason, he was vaguely disappointed.

“Well, that simplifies matters,” he said. “Let’s get back to the logbook.”

“Why bother? There’s nothing we can do until Arizona finds her copy.”

He flexed his hands on the wheel. “Whatever you say. I need gas.”

“So? Get some.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He drove past the library and the small park next to it, then turned the corner into the town’s main shopping area. Chamberlain College and the institute had had an impact here. For years the post office, together with the hardware, drugstore, and grocery store had formed the core of Eclipse Bay’s tiny business district. But lately a smattering of new shops, including a bookstore and a restaurant, had appeared to cater to students and faculty.

He pulled into the Eclipse Bay Gas and Go, stopped at the first pump, and switched off the engine. He realized that his own temper was starting to fray.

“I wish you’d stop that,” he said.

“Stop what?”

“Stop fuming. You’re starting to make Winston and me tense.”

“I’m angry. I’ve got a right to be angry. I intend to stay angry for as long as it suits me.”

That did it. He turned halfway around and flung his arm over the back of the seat. “What the hell is going on here, anyway? I don’t know why you’re letting a simple crack about us shacking up together upset you like this.”

“I hate that term.”

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