by Pat Warren
It was time to call on Barry Rider again, she decided. A longtime aide to Adam, Barry was a brilliant speechwriter and political researcher. Working with him all those years, she’d discovered that Barry had a fatal weakness. He gambled: horses, football, dog races, poker games, anything. It had ruined his marriage and kept him constantly in need of cash, a fact of which Diane had made good use after her marriage.
Unable to trust Fitz or Adam, fully aware that love didn’t cement her marriage, she needed to know exactly what Adam did when he was away from her on his frequent trips. There were so many willing women everywhere. It wasn’t that she was jealous, but rather that she had no intention of letting one of them move in on her man and jeopardize her position. So she’d approached Barry, who often traveled with Adam and Diane. It had turned out to be a mutually satisfying relationship. He supplied her with information on her husband’s activities, and she supplied him with cash for his gambling.
So far she’d not learned anything upsetting. Setting down her glass, Diane watched Adam lean toward Liz as he spoke, his face serious. Yes, it was definitely time to ask Barry to check out whether those two had been meeting behind her back. She might not have minded if Adam had had an occasional fling with a nameless, faceless woman he’d never see again. Sex had never been particularly important to Diane, except as a means to an end. But Liz and Adam had once had a serious affair. Diane was aware that Liz could steal him away, if she set her mind to it. Supposedly she was happily married to Richard. But outward appearances could be deceiving. Diane wouldn’t rest until she learned the truth.
Suddenly aware that Richard was talking to her, she turned toward him with a polite smile.
The billiards room had been cleared for dancing, the Oriental rug removed, and the marble floor gleamed invitingly. The band was locally popular, small but well versed in current favorites. Liz stood on the sidelines, pleased that several couples had ventured out to try a turn around the floor. She’d dutifully talked at least briefly with nearly everyone in the room and smiled till her cheeks hurt. Risking rudeness, she glanced at her watch.
“Caught you,” Molly said, coming alongside.
“Can it be only ten?” Liz asked, able to be honest with her best friend.
“Can it be that our hostess isn’t thrilled with her own party?”
“You’ve got that right.” She stepped back out of the way as a couple whirled past. “I’m sorry Nathan couldn’t make it. Now there’s a real party animal.”
Molly smiled, thinking warmly of the man she loved. “That he is. Unfortunately, his business trip to Mexico couldn’t be postponed.”
“Maybe after you’re married, he’ll cut back on working so hard.” Liz was well aware how badly her friend wanted to get married, though she would deny it to most people. Divorced and the father of two, Nathan had been less than eager, though he seemed to care for Molly. After four years of dating they’d finally set a tentative date for a spring wedding. Liz prayed nothing would go wrong. She wanted only happiness for Molly.
“I can only hope.” She turned so her back was to the room. “How are you holding up? You seemed a bit keyed up at dinner.” Molly knew only too well how difficult this evening was for Liz.
“Hanging in there,” Liz said, then turned as she felt someone touch her shoulder.
“How about a dance, for old times’ sake?” Adam asked, his eyes unreadable.
There seemed no polite way to refuse. Silently she let him lead her onto the floor and turned into his arms. He was so much larger than Richard, was her first thought. Her hand was nearly lost in his, and only by tipping back her head could she look into his eyes. When she did, she found him studying her. She searched for something to say. “I understand it won’t be long and you’ll be off to Washington, just as you dreamed you would way back when.”
“I have to get elected first.”
Despite her outward calm, her body was responding to his nearness, her blood warming, her limbs feeling heavier. Liz tried to keep her mind on their conversation. “I have no doubt you will be. It must be gratifying to be so close to reaching your goal.”
“And you, Liz. Have you reached your goal?”
She dropped her eyes to stare at the front of his white shirt. “Often our goals change. I was very young when… when you and I last talked about goals. But yes, I have what I want. A devoted husband, a beautiful home, a daughter I love.”
It didn’t escape him that she hadn’t mentioned love in connection with Richard. “Where is your daughter? I thought we might meet her.”
Thank goodness Sara wasn’t home. It was difficult enough having to handle being close to Adam again. Liz felt her heart thud in her ears as so many buried feelings came rushing back. “She’s spending the night with my parents. She loves sleeping over.”
“Have you abandoned your sculpting?”
“No. I still dabble in it. Richard built a studio for me. It’s a relaxing hobby.”
Adam had always hated small talk. Holding Liz in his arms again, he felt any residual anger melting and his awareness increasing. The dance floor was crowded, everyone talking and laughing. He eased her fractionally closer and gave voice to his real thoughts. “You’re more beautiful than I remember,” he found himself saying. “Can that be?”
She smiled. “You always were able to sweep me off my feet with your romantic statements.”
“But romance wasn’t what you were looking for, was it, Liz?”
“No.”
“What, then?” The question that had been gnawing at him. “Why didn’t you visit me when I phoned you?”
She kept her features bland for anyone who might be watching, but a sudden chill raced down her spine. They were wandering into murky waters. “You didn’t phone me. Fitz did.”
“Semantics,” he said impatiently. “You knew I wanted you.”
“Wanting isn’t the same as… as…”
“Commitment? You knew I was committed to my obligations just then. But you knew I’d be back for you.”
“Perhaps, in your own sweet time.” She read somewhere that love began when a person started putting another’s needs above his own. When had he ever done that? Her hand in his was damp, tense. She forced her fingers to relax.
“I just needed a little time. I never promised more because…”
A rush of temper sharpened her tone. “No, you never promised me a damn thing.”
Now he caught the anger, the hurt. “And Richard did?”
“Yes. Richard loved me. He still does.”
“So did I,” Adam said, knowing it was still true.
Liz’s expression was a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “If so, you did a marvelous job of keeping it a secret.”
He had no snappy comeback to that. He moved his lips close to her ear. “Do you ever think back on our hours together, Liz? There are times I become steeped in useless memories despite my best resolves to forget you.”
She felt his warm breath in her ear but didn’t answer.
He’d thought he was over his anger at her rejection. Apparently he wasn’t. The thought of her in the marriage bed with Richard had him churning. “Are you as passionate with him as you were with me, or do you save all your passion for the clay?”
She made as if to pull back from him, but he held her fast. Tension had her trembling. “That’s none of your business.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Liz managed to put some space between them, capturing his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
Why indeed. Adam let out a ragged breath and eased his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”
“I wonder if you even know what loving someone means.”
“Oh, yeah. Only I learned too late.” He squeezed the hand he held. “I was wrong, Liz. I should have said more back then, explained things. I should have come for you.”
She couldn’t bear the sudden sadness in his eyes. “Let’s not do this, Adam. There’s nothing to be gained in regrett
ing a past we can’t change.”
Peripherally he saw Diane watching them, her expression cold and angry. He didn’t give a damn. He shifted Liz closer again, thinking that one of the things he’d missed most was the way her body fit so beautifully to his. “You’re happy, then?”
There was that question again. How to answer? “Are you?” she countered.
He was quiet a long minute. “I wonder if anyone is.” The music ended, and he reluctantly let her go.
She stood looking up at him, afraid he could read her clearly yet unable to look away. “I wish you every good thing, Adam.”
“Stay well,” he said softly, then turned and walked away.
Liz poured two cups of coffee and took them out to the couch on the terrace, where Molly, who was spending the night, sat gazing out to sea. The guests had all finally left, a tired but pleased Richard had excused himself and gone to bed, and the extra helpers they’d hired were cleaning up in the kitchen. Liz sat down and slipped off her shoes.
“You throw a hell of a party, lady,” Molly said, taking her cup.
Liz sighed audibly. “I hope I never have to give another like it.”
Molly’s eyes were filled with concern. “It really bothered you, having to see him again, didn’t it?”
“More than I’d thought.” She took a sip of coffee, then set down her cup.
Feelings, deep-down feelings, were very much on Molly’s mind lately, probably because of her relationship with Nathan. “Be honest with me. Do you still love him?”
Liz took her time answering. “From the moment I first met Adam, I wanted him to kiss me. When he did, I wanted more. I still want him, but we’re both married to other people, people we have no right to hurt. Any way I look at it, my feelings for him fall into the category of the forbidden.”
“Do you think he feels the same?”
“How could I possibly know that?”
“Come on. I watched that dance.”
Liz shook back her hair. “All right. I don’t think he’s happy.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
Liz sighed. “I know two things for sure. One is that I’ll probably always love Adam. Two is that I can’t do a damn thing about number one.” Inside the doorway, the clock chimed the hour. Stifling a yawn, Liz rose. “It’s late. Let’s get some sleep.”
CHAPTER 8
In her suite at the Fairmont Hotel on San Francisco’s Nob Hill, Diane McKenzie chose a pair of spun-gold earrings from her jewelry box and moved to the mirror to fasten them to her ears. Adam was already downstairs with Fitz in the ballroom, where a large crowd was gathered around the huge television screen, awaiting final results of the November election. They’d been watching in the room all day, switching from channel to channel. Adam’s lead was substantial, and spirits were high. It was only a matter of time before he’d be projected as the winner, she was certain.
“Washington, here I come,” she said out loud, then grinned at her reflection. “You’ve come a long way, baby.”
As she picked up her clutch bag, she heard a knock at the door. Perhaps it was the press seeking her out. With a bright smile, she swung open the door.
“I saw Adam downstairs, so I knew you’d be alone,” Barry Rider said as he walked past her into the suite, smelling like an overflowing ashtray, a cigarette in his hand. Nervously he glanced around. “You are alone, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Diane closed the door and walked to sit down on a wingback chair, crossing her legs. “You took your sweet time looking into things, sugar. This better be good.” After finding her gold cigarette holder in her bag, she extracted an Eve cigarette, inserted it, and lit up. Her eyes skimmed over him, noting his tobacco-stained fingers, his skittish eyes. She hated dealing with the likes of Barry, but she needed his information.
At first she’d hesitated to trust Barry, thinking that his need for money might lead him to blackmail Adam with anything he learned. However, after observing him for a long while, she was convinced that he loved his position in the political inner circle and wouldn’t want to lose it.
Lighting another cigarette from the last butt, Barry sat down on the edge of the couch. “You aren’t going to like what I found,” he said, running long thin fingers over his close-cropped beard.
Blowing smoke toward the ceiling, Diane frowned her annoyance. “Let me decide that. What’d you learn?”
“Last year, Richard Fairchild was hospitalized for a prostate infection. I have a friend who works at that hospital, and I convinced her to go through his records. The man had mumps in his teens. He’s sterile. So you were right. He’s not the father of Liz’s daughter.”
Diane narrowed her eyes and watched the smoke curl ceilingward. She’d seen a picture of Liz, Richard, and Sara Jane Fairchild in the Sunday paper two weeks ago, attending some outing. She’d studied the fair little girl, and a dark suspicion had been born. Now she knew. “You’re certain?”
Barry drew deeply on his cigarette as he nodded. “Apparently Liz Fairchild had a lover before her marriage. She and Richard were married in December, and the baby was born in July. I’ve seen the kid’s picture, too. The question is, do you know of a blond, blue-eyed man Liz might have been sleeping with back in 1975?” Barry, too, had worked in the San Diego office during Adam’s campaign for attorney general with both Liz and Diane.
Diane’s mouth became a grim line. The bastard was enjoying her discomfort. “Just stick to what you learned and never mind the sarcasm.”
Barry ignored the barb. He’d been on the receiving end of Diane’s sharp tongue before. “That’s the bad news. The good news is I’ve nosed all over and didn’t find the slightest evidence that Adam and Liz have run into each other, accidentally or otherwise, since he moved from San Diego, except at that fund-raiser they threw for him.”
“You’re sure?”
“Stake my life on it.” He jumped up, his mannerisms twitchy as he snubbed out his cigarette in the glass ashtray. “So that’s it.” He didn’t like spying, and he didn’t like Diane McKenzie; but he owed a lot of money, and the people he owed weren’t the patient sort.
Diane put out her cigarette. “Wait here.” Quickly she went into the bedroom, got the cash she’d promised, and returned to hand it to him. “Thanks, Barry.”
He stuffed the folded bills in his pocket and moved to the door. “Sure, anytime.” He checked the hallway before leaving, then closed the door behind him.
Puckering up her nose in distaste, Diane cleaned out both ashtrays. She disliked messy smokers. Thoughtfully she strolled over to gaze out the window. The thing she’d feared most apparently was true. Adam had fathered Liz’s child. But something else was glaringly apparent. He didn’t know.
Adam was a very moral man, with a strong sense of right and wrong. Had he known Liz was pregnant, he would have married her. Undoubtedly aware of that, Liz hadn’t told him; why not? Tapping a nail against her teeth, Diane paced.
One reason might be that Liz hadn’t wanted to marry him. Diane dismissed that immediately. She’d seen the way they’d looked at one another back then. Any fool could see there were sparks between them. Could her folks have been against Adam? Doubtful. Joseph Townsend was one of Adam’s largest advocates.
Puzzling. Although she was greatly relieved that Barry had found no evidence that they’d been seeing one another through the years, Diane was still confused. The only reason she could come up with was that Adam had dumped Liz, knowing she was the marrying kind, because he’d had bigger fish to fry, a future run for the Senate and a possible presidency. A wife and family back then would have hindered him.
That had to be it.
At the dinner-dance Diane had watched Richard with Liz and could see that he obviously adored her. But, though she’d been attentive, Liz hadn’t given the impression of a woman deeply in love with her husband. Did that mean she still loved Adam?
Perhaps, but what good would it do her now?
If Richard had been steri
le since his youth, he had to know he hadn’t fathered Sara. Did Richard know who had? If so, why had he opened his home and help raise money for Adam’s campaign? Chances were, Richard didn’t know. He’d been so besotted with Liz that he’d married her not knowing. What a fool!
Throughout their marriage Adam had mentioned having children. Always Diane had put him off, telling him he needed her on the campaign trail or in Washington at his side. The truth was, Diane wasn’t particularly wild about kids, nor did she wish to get huge and swollen with a child. She had trouble enough keeping her weight down. And the last thing she wanted to do was stay home with a baby while Adam was elsewhere.
Still, if Adam knew that Liz’s child was his, he might go after her. And maybe the mother, too. That must not happen. He must never find out.
Slowly Diane picked up her handbag. It was time to go downstairs and watch Adam be declared the youngest senator from California. But she wouldn’t dismiss Barry’s report. In fact, she’d take Barry aside at the first opportunity and tell him to stay watchful. Forewarned was forearmed, which she fully intended to be. She’d never cared much for surprises.
Leaving the suite, she hurried toward the elevators.
With a critical eye Liz studied the bust of Adam McKenzie that she’d done years ago. Though it was one of her earliest pieces, it was obviously one of her best. Probably because she’d poured so much of herself into it.
For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she’d felt melancholy today and had come up to her studio, wandering about aimlessly, unable to concentrate on her current project. Eventually she’d hauled out Adam’s bust and had been examining it from several angles. The last time she’d dragged it out, Molly had been over. She’d immediately zeroed in on the piece, all but begging Liz to let her show it at her studio.
Just last year Liz had given in and allowed Molly to offer several generic pieces at her gallery, insisting, however, that her identity be kept secret. She’d opted for the pseudonym Megan O’Malley, the name of her mother’s deceased Irish aunt. To Liz’s utter amazement, the sculpted pieces had caught on quickly, and many had sold the same week Molly had put them on display. There’d even been a wildly speculative article in the Union recently, where local art critics conjectured about the real name of the sculptor. True to her word, Molly had remained silent.
