"Okay, okay, I get the point," Jeremy muttered. "You're serious." He glanced at Octavia. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You'll have to ask Nick," she said smoothly. "He's in charge of the investigation."

Jeremy did not look happy with that, but he dutifully turned back to Nick. "Let me know. My roots in this town run as deep as your own. I might be able to save you some time."

"That's very kind of you, Jeremy," Octavia said. "What do you say, Nick?"

She was not going to let up, Nick thought. She wouldn't be satisfied until he bit the bullet and invited Jeremy out for a beer. Maybe the easiest way out of this mess was to make the offer in front of her. Jeremy would turn it down and then they would both be off the hook.

He glanced at his watch and then at Jeremy. "It's nearly five. I want to talk to Gail about what I need her to do at the beauty shop tomorrow. Then I'm going to have dinner with Octavia." Out of the corner of his eye he saw her raise her brows at that news. But she kept silent as he expected.

She knew where he was going with this and she wasn't about to put up any roadblocks. "I figured I'd hit the Total Eclipse later this evening to pick up the latest gossip. You want to join me? I'll buy you a beer and we can play a little pool, keep our ears open, and see what we come up with."

Jeremy's jaw went rigid. But to Nick's astonishment he moved slightly. It was a single, robotic inclination of the head, but it was a definite nod of acceptance.

"Why not?" Jeremy said.

Damn. Now they were both trapped, Nick thought.

Octavia looked quietly pleased. She gave him a warm smile of approval.

An electrifying jolt of awareness shot through him. It was as if the floor of the gallery had opened up beneath his feet and he had plummeted into the abyss.

Oh, shit. He had been asking the wrong question all along, he thought. He had been wondering why Octavia insisted on meddling with his life. The really important question here was why was he allowing her to do so?

They ate at the Crab Trap, surrounded by tourists, summer people, and a sprinkling of locals,

"You won't regret this," Octavia said earnestly.

"Uh-huh." He cracked open a crab leg and went after the tender meat with a vengeance.

"Jeremy wouldn't have agreed to have a drink with you if he still believed that you'd had an affair with his wife."

"Uh-huh." He reached for another leg and assaulted it with grim enthusiasm. The sound of crunching shell was good.

"It's obvious that he wants to mend the rift."

"Uh-huh."

"He was just looking for an opportunity and now you've provided it."

"Uh-huh." He looked around for another crab leg to destroy.

"It was the right thing to do, Nick."

"I don't like being manipulated."

"I didn't manipulate you."

"Yes, you did."

"I just made a suggestion."

He looked at her, not speaking.

She swallowed. "Okay, it was a forceful suggestion."

"You nagged me into this meeting tonight."

She reddened. "I'm sorry if you feel that way."

"I do feel that way."

She sat back and folded her napkin very deliberately, her expression troubled now. "You're really mad, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm really mad. But mostly at myself."

"Because you're allowing me to strongarm you into this meeting with Jeremy?"

"Uh-huh."

"I see." Her voice was steady but when she put down the napkin, her fingers shook slightly. "Well, if you feel that way about it, why don't you cancel the arrangement?"

He smiled humorlessly, staring into the abyss. "It's too late." In more ways than you can possibly know, he added silently.

"I don't understand."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Establishments like the Total Eclipse had their place in the universe, Nick thought. It was, for instance, the one venue in Eclipse Bay where two guys involved in a private feud could meet on neutral territory.

The tavern was starting to fill up for the evening, but the buzz of conversation was muted in the back, where the pool tables were located. Only one other green-topped table was in use at the moment, and mercifully no one was smoking, so the air was still relatively clear. The gloom hung in thick curtains interrupted only by the narrow bright spot over the center of each table.

If the bar was the place for this conversation, Nick thought, pool was the game. Attitude was everything.

Nick adjusted his stance slightly, made a bridge with his fingers, and leaned into the shot. He stroked the cue gently. Going for a little spin. Concentrating on the follow-through, the way his grandfather and father had taught him. The way he would one day teach Carson. He stayed down until the ball dropped into the pocket.

"You do realize that we've both been set up," he said, straightening.

On the other side of the table, Jeremy watched him from the shadows. "I got that impression. But, hey, she's going to hang my paintings in her gallery. Shooting a little pool with you and letting you buy me a beer doesn't seem like such a high price to pay for my chance at money and immortal fame."

"Uh-huh." Nick chalked his cue. "I figured that was the real reason you agreed. Octavia's got this compulsion to make things right, you know. Has to do with what her great-aunt did to Harte-Madison all those years ago."

"I figured that much out. She says she's leaving town at the end of the summer."

"Yeah." He studied the position of the balls on the table, doing the strategy thing. "That's what she says."

Jeremy studied him across the green felt. "She also says that you didn't have an affair with my ex."

"She's right. I didn't."

Jeremy did not respond to that. But he didn't hurl any more accusations, either.

They played for a while, not speaking. The only sounds were the click and snap of the balls striking each other and the gradually rising noise from the front of the tavern. Someone had turned on the music. A country-western rocker was wailing away about a good woman gone bad.

Nick dropped another ball into the pocket. "You know, you're not the only guy in the world whose wife had an affair." He wasn't sure why he said it. It just seemed the right time.

Jeremy went still on the other side of the table. "Amelia?"

"The man who was at the controls of that plane."

"Jesus. I didn't know."

"Not many people do. I'd like to keep it that way."