“Hell, no. Last thing I want to do is turn a good hobby into a business. Ruin all the fun.” Mitchell set down the watering can with a thunk and scowled ferociously. “Speaking of business, what’s this I hear about you opening an inn and a little restaurant out there at Dreamscape?”

“Word gets around fast.”

“If you wanted to keep it a secret, you shouldn’t have called the Willis brothers out to give you an opinion on the condition of the plumbing and wiring in that old place.”

“You’re right.” Rafe examined a row of tiny pots containing small green plants with glossy leaves. “On the other hand, not much point trying to keep the plan a big dark secret here in Eclipse Bay.”

Mitchell gave him a sharp glance from beneath bushy brows. “You’re serious about opening an inn?”

“Yeah.” Rafe moved on to a tray of feathery ferns. “Been thinking about it for a year now.”

Mitchell whistled softly. “Well, shoot and damn. Why the hell didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Got to work things out with Hannah first.”

“Huh. That’s a fact.”

Rafe looked up from the ferns. “Aren’t you going to tell me that turning Dreamscape into an inn and restaurant is just about the dumbest idea any Madison has ever had?”

“Dumb is beside the point. Madisons don’t concern themselves with dumb. They concentrate on what they want.” Mitchell’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he squinted at Rafe. “You really want this?”

“Yes.”

Mitchell studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded once and stripped off a garden glove. “Go for it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. If you want it that bad, there’s no point in me trying to talk you out of it. You’re a Madison. Nothing’s going to get in your way. Hell, you’ve got a better chance of pulling off an inn out there at Dreamscape than most folks.”

Rafe was thunderstruck. He stared at Mitchell until he finally got his jaw back in place.

“Are you telling me you think opening an inn and a restaurant is a good idea?” he finally managed.

“Didn’t say that.” Mitchell tossed the glove down on the workbench. “Don’t know if it’s a good idea or not, to tell you the truth. Just said I could see that nothing was going to stop you. You’ve got a good head for business when you choose to use it. You could make this inn-restaurant thing work.”

Rafe lounged back against a waist-high potting bench, slightly shaken. This was the first time that Mitchell had ever given even halfhearted approval for any idea that did not involve going to work for Madison Commercial.

“Where does Hannah Harte fit into this big plan of yours?” Mitchell asked.

Rafe did not move. He did not even blink. “What do you mean?”

“Last I heard, she still owned half of that old house. Has she agreed to let you buy her out?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell are you going to do with her?”

Rafe examined the hibiscus next to him. “I’ve suggested to her that we form a partnership to operate the inn and restaurant.”

“A partnership?” Mitchell’s face worked in astonishment. “With Hannah Harte? Have you lost every damned marble you’ve got?”

So much for getting Mitchell’s unqualified support.

“You don’t have to shout,” Rafe said. “I can hear you just fine.”

“Now you listen to me. You’re a Madison. You can’t have a business partnership with a Harte. It’ll never work. Never in a million years.”

“Okay, so it might be a little more complicated than the usual business partnership,” Rafe said.

“Well, shoot and damn.” Mitchell grabbed a pair of pruning shears. “The rumors are true, aren’t they? You are foolin’ around with her, aren’t you?”

“We have started what some people might call a relationship. Sort of.”

“A relationship?” Mitchell went to work on the hibiscus with the shears. “That mean you’re shacking up together?”

Rafe realized that he was standing closer to the hibiscus than was comfortable. He moved a couple of steps aside to give Mitchell and his shears plenty of space.

“I don’t think I’d use that term.”

Mitchell snipped off a straggling branch and glared. “Well, just what term would you use?”

“Like I said, the situation is a little complicated at the moment.”

Mitchell aimed the shears at Rafe. “Pay attention for once in your life. What I got to say is important. That woman put her reputation on the line for you eight years ago. Saved you a lot of grief.”

“I know that.”

“You can’t fool around with her. It’s not right.”

“I’m not fooling around with her.” Rafe searched for the right words, but they eluded him. “Whatever is going on, it’s serious.”

Mitchell frowned at him for a long, considering moment. “It sure as hell better be serious.” Abruptly, he turned back to his pruning. “Why’d you come here today?”

“Came over to see if you want to have dinner with Hannah and me tomorrow night.” Rafe hesitated. “Feel free to bring your friend Octavia with you, if you want.”

“Octavia’s gone back to Portland.”

“Invitation still stands.”

“Huh.” Mitchell clipped off another small branch. “Hannah Harte can cook?”

“I don’t know. She’s never done any cooking around me. I’ll be doing the cooking.”

“Should be interesting,” Mitchell said.

“Does that mean we can expect you for dinner?”

“I’ll be there. Be a change of pace from Bryce’s grub.”

Rafe exhaled slowly. “Okay. Fine.” He straightened and headed for the door. He felt as if he had just weathered a storm. “See you around six.”

“Should be damned interesting,” Mitchell muttered again.

Waste of time, Rafe thought. But what the hell. Maybe Hannah would cut him some slack. He should get some points out of this. After all, it had been her suggestion to invite Mitchell to dinner.

He wondered if it was a bad sign that he was trying to please her.

Rafe paused in the office doorway and studied the scene. There was a computer on the desk. The telephone had several lines. The hardware was nearly buried amid piles of notebooks, photos, and newspapers. The bookcase was crammed with volumes. Several framed front-page editions of the Eclipse Bay Journal hung on the walls. One of them featured a photograph of Trevor Thornley standing with the former owner and editor of the newspaper, Ed Bolton, and his smiling wife, Bev.