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success as an artist required the support and savvy marketing of a respected dealer. The decision to show her paintings to Octavia Brightwell first had been based entirely on intuition.
    Octavia owned and operated an influential gallery, Bright Visions, here in Portland. She had also opened a branch in Eclipse Bay.
    “Well?” Lillian prompted when she could no longer stand the suspense. “What do you think?”
    “What do I think?” Octavia appeared to have trouble dragging her gaze away from the painting. “I think it’s absolutely extraordinary, just like the others in your Between Midnight and Dawn series.”
    Something inside Lillian relaxed a little. “Good. Great. Thanks.”
    Octavia turned back to the painting. “I’m pulling out all the stops for your upcoming show. I want maximum impact.”
    “I don’t know how to thank you, Octavia.”
    “Don’t bother. We’re both in this thing together. I have a feeling that it isn’t just your career that will take off when I hang your work in my gallery. Mine is going to get a real shot in the arm as well.”
    Lillian laughed. “Sounds good to me. I’ll leave you to do your job. I’m off to Eclipse Bay on Wednesday.”
    “You’re really going to do it? You’re going to close down Private Arrangements?”
    “Yes, but keep it to yourself for a while.” Lillian folded her arms and studied the paintings that lined the studio wall. “I’m still working on figuring out how to break it to the family gently.”
    “I suppose it will come as a shock.”
    “Well, it won’t be quite as much of a blow as it was when Nick announced that he was leaving Harte Investments to write mysteries full time. After all, my grandfather had counted on him taking over the company when my father retires. But no one is going to be real thrilled when I announce that I intend to paint full time. Hartes don’t become artists. They’re businesspeople.”

    Half an hour later, the laptop under her arm, the hood of her rain cloak pulled low over her face, Lillian walked quickly through the misty rain toward the building that housed the offices of Private Arrangements. Her thoughts were on the conversation with Octavia. She did not see the big man until he stepped right into her path.
    “You’re Lillian Harte, aren’t you?” he said fiercely.
    The anger in his voice made her mouth go dry. She came to a halt in the middle of the busy sidewalk, fervently grateful for the fact that she was surrounded by a large number of people.
    The man looming in front of her appeared to be in his mid-forties, big, heavily built with blunt features and thinning, short-cropped hair. She could not see his eyes. They were concealed behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Not real useful on a cloudy, rainy day, she reflected, but they certainly added a note of menacing drama.
    “Do I know you?” she asked cautiously.
    “No.” His heavy jaw jerked. “But I know you, lady. You’re the matchmaker, aren’t you?”
    She clutched the laptop very tightly. “How do you know that?”
    His mouth twisted. “I’ve been watching you for the past couple of days.”
    A blast of stark fear left her palms damp. “You followed me? You had no right to do that. I’ll report you to the police.”
    “I didn’t do anything illegal.” He looked disgusted. “I just wanted to be sure.”
    “Sure of what?”
    “Sure you were the woman who runs that matchmaking outfit, Private Arrangements.”
    “Why do you care who I am?”
    He moved in closer. “You’re the one who took Heather away from me. You hooked her up with someone else, didn’t you? I called her a couple of days ago. Thought I’d give her another chance, y’know? That’s when she told me that she planned to marry this guy you set her up with. She thinks she’s in love. I think you messed with her mind.”
    Ice touched Lillian’s spine. “Are you talking about Heather Summers?”
    “Heather was with me before you tricked her into thinking I was no