"And then they both went and dated Octavia Brightwell here in Eclipse Bay." Sandra made a disapproving noise that sounded a lot like the clucking of a chicken. "That can't have helped the situation. In fact, you'd have thought that those two would have been at each other's throats by now. Nothing like a woman coming between two men to cause trouble."

"Well, from all accounts they were on the same side in that bar fight last night. Sounds like they must have settled their differences."

"Who would have thought a Harte and a Seaton would get into a barroom brawl? Oh, sure, you expect that sort of thing from a Madison, but I always thought the Hartes and the Seatons were a lot more refined."

"Don't you believe that for one moment," Megan said. "Remember, it was Sullivan Harte who got into that fist-fight with Mitch Madison all those years ago and launched the feud. And from what I've heard, the Seatons aren't all saints, either. I can imagine how poor Edith must feel today. They say she's absolutely beside herself this morning because of what happened last night. Didn't even open her shop. Probably can't face the gossip."

"More likely she can't stand to be civil to Octavia Brightwell," Sandra said. "I mean, everyone knows that Octavia was the cause of the fight that involved Edith's precious grandson."

"Edith has always been so proud of Jeremy. I swear his divorce hit her harder than it did him. She was so thrilled that he'd married into such a fine family, remember? Not that the fine family ever gave her the time of day, as far as I could tell. Word had it that they encouraged the divorce."

"And now he's involved in a free-for-all at the Total Eclipse. No wonder she doesn't want to show her face in public today."

"By the way, you did hear that Nick Harte spent the night with Octavia Brightwell?"

"I certainly did. His car was seen leaving her place at eight o'clock this morning."

Megan giggled. "Word is, she may have broken the curse."

"I think it's a lot more likely that Nick Harte is having himself a little fun this summer. It'll end when he goes back to Portland."

"If you ask me, it's Octavia Brightwell who ought to go into hiding. She should be ashamed of herself. When you stop and think about it, she's the real problem here."

"A real troublemaker," Sandra agreed. "Back in high school we had a name for women like that."

That does it, I've had enough, Octavia thought. She wheeled her cart around the corner and started down Canned Veg & Beans.

"Good morning, Sandra. Megan." She gave both women a brilliant smile. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

Sandra and Megan hushed instantly. They gripped the handles of their shopping carts and stared at her as though she had materialized out of thin air.

"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation." Octavia jerked her own cart to a halt a short distance away and blocked the aisle with it. "And I am very curious to find out exactly what word you had for women like me back in high school, Sandra."

Sandra Finley turned an unpleasant shade of red. "I don't know what you're talking about. You must have misunderstood."

"She's right," Megan said quickly. "You didn't hear her correctly." She looked triumphant. "It never pays to eavesdrop, you know."

"Hard to avoid hearing you two, since you insist upon discussing me in the middle of a grocery store aisle."

"You'll have to excuse me." Megan glanced at her watch. "I've got a committee meeting at three."

"So do I," Sandra said. She tightened her grip on the cart handle.

Octavia did not shift her shopping cart out of their path. "You know, speaking of names that we used back in high school, I remember one that fits both of you perfectly. Rhymes with rich."

Sandra got her jaw back into place. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

"I really don't have time for this," Megan said.

Having concluded that she could not go forward, she swung her shopping cart into a tight U-turn. And promptly banged into Sandra's cart. The baskets jammed together. The wheels snagged, making it impossible for either woman to maneuver out of the aisle.

Octavia surveyed her captive audience. "Now, then, I have a suggestion. Since the two of you are obviously going to spend the rest of the day spreading gossip, what do you say we take a few minutes to get one particular fact straight?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sandra said stiffly.

Octavia ignored that. "For the record, Nick Harte did not leave my cottage at eight o'clock this morning. That is a flat-out lie."

Megan and Sandra looked at her, suddenly rapt. Neither said a word.

"He left at precisely seven thirty-five," Octavia said coolly. "I remember, because we had just finished breakfast together and I turned on the radio to catch the morning news."

Megan and Sandra blinked.

Octavia smiled. "Hey, you know what? I'll bet that women like you are the sort who will appreciate a few of the more intimate details about my relationship with Nick. I'm sure there are probably all kinds of stories going around about us and the techniques I used to break the curse."

Megan and Sandra's jaws dropped.

Octavia leaned forward, bracing her arms on the handle of her cart, and assumed a confidential air. "I imagine you'd like to hear just how I did it, wouldn't you? Are you ready for this? I made poached eggs and toast for Nick's breakfast."

A thunderous hush fell on the adjoining aisles. It seemed to Octavia that the whole of Fulton's had suddenly gone silent.

"My secret is a little Dijon mustard on the toast under the eggs." She winked. "Trust me, it really adds some zip. You should have seen Nick's face when I put that plate down in front of him. Talk about a man who looks like he thinks he's died and gone to heaven."

Megan and Sandra were no longer watching her. Their gazes were riveted on a point just beyond her shoulder.

I'm getting an audience, Octavia thought. Terrific. Another little scene, the details of which would be all over town by sundown. The really interesting thing was that she did not give a damn. Not right now at any rate. Right now she was on a roll.

"If you think that the thing with the mustard is kinky, wait until I tell you how Nick got his coffee this morning," she said in a gossipy tone. "Talk about getting down to the good stuff. So, there we were, sitting at the breakfast table and I can tell that he's ready for a second cup, you know? I mean, he's really, really ready for it. Wow. This man is hot for another cup, if you get my drift."