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“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.”

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 sterile 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.

Liz knew Molly would not reveal her identity, nor would she answer speculative inquiries about this bust, should there be
any. Molly was also aware that Liz would never sell it. Molly had argued that she’d just put it on display and let the world
see its perfection. Her friend was not above extreme flattery when she wanted something.

But Liz hadn’t been able to part with it, even for display.
She simply didn’t want to share it with anyone, at least not for now. One day, perhaps.

Carefully she rewrapped the bust and set it back in the far cupboard as she heard the doorbell ring. Emma would get it, she
thought as she walked to her worktable and took the wet cloth off her current project, a hummingbird drinking at a feeder.
An early December sun shining in through the west windows bathed the large room in golden light as she reached for her finished
pick.

Rapid, angry footsteps sounded on the stairs leading up to her studio. Too heavy to be Sara’s and besides, her daughter was
in school. Richard never walked like that. Frowning, Liz turned to the doorway and saw Molly standing there.

She looked terrible, her eyes red, cheeks tearstained, hair disheveled, clothes rumpled. She stared at Liz, a bleak look filled
with devastation as she sucked in a ragged breath.

Liz dropped her tool and took a step toward her friend. “What is it, Molly? What’s wrong?”

Molly’s face crumpled as she fought for control, leaning unsteadily against the doorjamb as if her legs were too weak to hold
her upright.

Liz rushed over and slipped an arm around her, fearful she’d collapse. “Tell me, for God’s sake. What happened?”

Molly held on a moment, then pulled back, raising a fist containing a wrinkled sheet of paper. “The bastard’s called off our
wedding. He’s found someone else.”

“Oh, no.” Liz led her friend over to the window seat, eased her down, then sat beside her. Molly and Nathan had always gotten
along beautifully. Or so she’d thought. “Did you quarrel?”

Molly groped in her skirt pocket for a tissue, found one, and swiped at her mascara-streaked face. “Never. We never quarreled.
That’s why this is so out of the blue.” She held the paper out to Liz. “Read it. The sonofabitch didn’t even have the guts
to tell me in person. He sent me a note. Can you believe it?”

Liz
unfolded the crinkled letter and read the brief message. She’d liked Nathan, and so had Richard, but she’d been aware for
some time that he seemed wary of a second try at marriage. Though Molly had been excited about plans for their June wedding,
Nathan had been quiet, letting heir do all the talking. Had she pushed him into a decision he’d later regretted? But this
note, this message, was such a cowardly way out.

She looked at her friend, wishing she could ease her pain. “He doesn’t deserve you, Molly.”

“Damn right he doesn’t.” She blew her nose, then struggled with a fresh rush of tears. “I hate him, Liz. I absolutely hate
him.” Molly lost the battle, letting Liz put her arms around her and absorbing her comfort. “Oh, God, Liz I love him,” she
sobbed, feeling as if her heart were cracking right open. “I wish I didn’t love him so damn much.”

Liz rubbed her friend’s arm and let her cry. “I know,” she said. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“A room mother doesn’t have to do a lot,” Sara said to her mother. “Just help out at our parties and maybe bring cookies.
Emma could make the cookies if you don’t want to.”

“I have no problem with making cookies,” Liz answered as she turned into their circular drive and parked near the front door.
She often drove Sara to and from, school, especially when Richard was out of town, as he was this week. Always chatty, Sara
fairly bubbled over with conversation on the ride home.

“You don’t?” Sara’s blue eyes danced with her excitement. “Then you’ll do it?”

“Sure. When’s your next party?” Liz got out of the car, ducking her head against the rain that had been coming down for three
days, and waited for Sara to come around.

“It’s a Christmas play next week. I’m a shepherd. I wanted to be an angel but they ran out of wings.” She smiled up at her
mother. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll tell Mrs. Porter tomorrow.”

After opening the door for them, Liz hurried inside. “Tell her to call me if she wants to make sure.”