and I are friends. And I want my friends to know who I am.â
âI know who you are.â He thumped the cane once on the gravel walk. âYouâre Octavia Brightwell.â
âYes, but thereâs more to the story.â She looked at him very steadily and braced herself to deliver the shocker.
âClaudia Banner was my great-aunt.â
To her astonishment he merely shrugged. âYou think we didnât figure that out a while back?â
She stilled. âWe?â
âSullivan and me. He and I have slowed down some over the years, but we havenât come to a complete stop. Not yet, at any rate.â
She didnât know what to say. âYou know ?â
âSullivan spotted the likeness the night you hosted that show for Lillianâs paintings down at your little gallery. Soon as he pointed it out, I finally realized why there had always been something sort of familiar about you.â He smiled faintly. âYou look a lot like Claudia did when she was your age. Same red hair. Something about your profile, too, I think. The way you hold yourself.â
âBut how did youââ
âSullivan made some phone calls. Did some checking. Wasnât hard to find the connection.â
âI see.â She was feeling a little stunned, she realized. Maybe a little deflated, too. So much for her big bombshell.
âNot like you tried to hide it,â Mitchell said.
âNo, but I certainly didnât want to make a big deal about it here in Eclipse Bay, given what happened in the past and all.â
Mitchell reached down and plucked a lush orange-gold bloom. âFunny thing about the past. The older you get, the less it matters.â
She fell silent for a long moment, shifting gears as she adjusted to the turn of events. âIf Sullivan made some calls, you probably know about Aunt Claudia.â She took a deep breath. âThat sheâs gone, I mean.â
âYeah.â Mitchell looked up from the rose. His gaze was steady and a little sad. âHeard she passed on a year and a half ago. Heart problems, Sullivan said.â
She felt the familiar tightening inside. Eighteen months but she still had to fight back the tears. âShe never managed to give up the cigarettes. In the end, the doctor said it was amazing she made it as long as she did.â
âI remember Claudia and her cigarettes. She was always reaching for the next one. Had herself a fancy little gold lighter. I can still see her taking it out of her purse to light another smoke.â
âMitchell, let me get something straight here. Are you telling me that you and Sullivan donât care that Iâm related to Claudia Banner?â
âOf course we care. But itâs not exactly what youâd call a problem for us.â
âOh.â She was not sure how to respond to that.
âCanât say we werenât a bit curious at first, though,â he added dryly.
âI can imagine. Why didnât you say something? Ask questions? Demand an explanation? Iâve stopped by here almost every morning or afternoon when Iâm in town to say hello. I must have talked to you dozens of times since Lillianâs show. But you never said a word. Iâve seen Sullivan on several occasions, too. He never gave any indication that he knew who I was.â
âIt was your personal business. Sullivan and I talked about it some. Figured weâd let you tell us in your own time.â
âI see.â She thought about that for a while. âDid you, uh, mention your little insight to anyone else?â
âNope. Didnât figure it was anyone elseâs affair.â
âBelieve me, I understand.â She wrinkled her nose. âIf word got out that Claudia Bannerâs great-niece was in town and that she had become friends with the Madisons and the Hartes, there would be no end to the wild rumors and speculation. Thatâs exactly why I kept a