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In a pig’s eye, she would.

She wanted to hire a housekeeper who’d help care for Keith, one who’d drive him back and forth to school. Adam didn’t approve.
A child needed to know his parents cared. He’d picked up Keith and stormed off the night they’d quarreled over that. She’d
called a friend and gone to a movie, anything to get out of the house. When she’d returned they’d both been asleep, Adam in
the guest room. Good. She hoped he’d stay there.

He’d left for Washington this morning, saying a cool good-bye and emphasizing that he’d better not come back to find a housekeeper
ensconced. She’d almost thrown a glass pitcher at the door he’d closed behind him.

Diane put out her cigarette and stared moodily at her son. It wasn’t Keith’s fault. She would have to find a way to get through
to Adam before she went crazy. Fitz might have
been a help, but he was as nuts about Keith as Adam, spoiling the boy rotten. No one, but no one, cared how
she
felt.

The phone rang, and Diane got up. The red portable was sitting on the pass-through counter from the kitchen. “Stay where I
can see you, Keith,” she called over her shoulder as she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

She began to smile almost immediately. It was her favorite reporter from the
San Diego Union,
calling for an interview. He was doing a piece on successful women. Thank God she hadn’t been totally forgotten. Swinging
about so she could still see Keith, she leaned against the brick wall and listened to his questions.

Brett Wilson had learned about the hours she contributed to working at shelters for battered women. Those times Adam didn’t
mind her getting a sitter, for he believed in what she was doing. The fact was that although she continued to go, Diane had
begun to find the volunteer work extremely depressing. But it was a source of pride to her, so she talked it up to Brett.

She loved these interviews. People asked her opinion as if it really mattered. She always answered carefully, thoughtfully.
She turned her back to an insistent breeze to light another cigarette, warming at the reporter’s praise. It felt good to be
respected and admired. The questions went on and on, and she answered happily.

“The senator and I believe in helping the less fortunate,” Diane stated. “As you know, the need is tremendous. I might just
mention that I’m speaking at a luncheon at the Sheraton next Wednesday. We’re trying to raise funds for a building. These
poor people have so little. We could use a bit of publicity.”

“You’ve got it. With you behind the project, Mrs. McKenzie, it can’t help but succeed,” Brett said. “And I can’t thank you
enough for taking the time to answer my questions.”

“No problem, sugar.” Still smiling, Diane hung up the phone. She could trust him. He’d write a nice article. Maybe
if she showed it to Adam, he’d agree that she’d be more useful in that capacity rather than baby-sitting his child.

After propping her cigarette in the ashtray, Diane turned toward the pool. Her heart flip-flopped when she saw Keith wasn’t
on the stairs. “Keith,” she called out.

Her eyes darted around the perimeter of the cool-deck. She couldn’t see where he might have climbed out. Sometimes he liked
to hide to fool her.

“Sugar, don’t play games with Mommy.” Fighting panic, Diane raced over to the steps. “Keith! Keith, where are you?” Frantic
now, she hurried along the pool’s edge, then stopped short. Her scream echoed in the hot summer air as she rushed to jump
in.

Keith was at the bottom of the deep end.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”

Liz sat in the next to the last pew of the century-old church in the shadow of the Capitol Building in Sacramento and struggled
with a fresh rush of tears. She hadn’t ever seen the sweet-faced little boy lying in the small white casket in front of the
altar except on television and in newspaper pictures. But her heart ached nonetheless for his family in the first row, listening
to the words of comfort offered in the old hymn.

Richard reached over and grasped her hand, and gratefully she laced her fingers through his. Though he still seemed more tired
than usual, he’d suggested they come after hearing of young Keith McKenzie’s death just two days ago, and she’d agreed they
should, a bit reluctantly because she’d always thought grief a private matter.

Though Fitz had asked the media before the service had begun to respect the family’s privacy, she saw several reporters and
photographers hovering along the back wall. The
small church was packed to overflowing with sympathetic friends and supporters, and others crowded around outside.

On her other side, Molly sat with her head bent. A child’s death affected everyone. Liz took hold of her friend’s hand as
the song drew to a close.

They all stood as the service ended. The white-gloved pallbearers slowly carried the casket draped with a floral blanket down
the center aisle as the minister walked over to say a few words to Adam and Diane. Liz had been watching and had seen Diane’s
shoulders shaking as, with head bowed, she’d wept for the son who’d died so tragically. Surprisingly, Adam hadn’t reached
over to comfort her, nor had he so much as moved his head since sitting down. Ramrod straight, he’d sat through the ceremony,
stiff and silent in his grief. Even Fitz, usually unemotional, had swiped at tears several times, but not Adam. Yet Liz knew
he must be hurting badly.

Those in the front pews began filing out and following the casket toward the rear doors. Now Liz could see Adam’s face, and
she swallowed around a huge lump in her throat as she caught her first glimpse of him up close. Skin ashen, his steps wooden,
his glazed eyes fixed on the small procession before him, he seemed suddenly older and unbearably wounded. Alongside him,
her face covered with a fine black veil, Diane walked unsteadily, sobbing into a handkerchief.

Fitz, his eyes hidden by dark glasses, came next, followed by a balding, heavy-set man Liz didn’t recognize. Several of the
senator’s aides trailed after, clutching the hands of their wives. Intermingled with the group were men she knew were from
Special Services. Even in grief a United States senator had to be guarded against the crackpots of the world, she supposed.
How very sad.

Dabbing at her own eyes, Liz felt an overwhelming surge of anger at the fates that had delivered still another blow to Adam.
No one who’d seen him on television with his son in his arms just mere months ago at his reelection could doubt
his love for the boy and his joy in having him. Adam had had such difficulty recovering from his accident, and now this. She
couldn’t help but wonder how this new tragedy would affect his marriage to Diane.

The press coverage of the accidental drowning had shocked Californians still on an extended honeymoon with their junior senator.
What shocked Liz today was noticing that Adam and Diane seemed separate in their grief. Usually, in a mutual tragedy, married
couples, even those not crazy in love, clung together in comfort. Yet each of them seemed so alone.

Walking beside Liz as they left, Molly leaned close to whisper, “Did you see Adam’s face?”

Liz nodded, not trusting her voice.

Outside, a light summer rain was falling from a dismal gray sky. How fitting, Liz thought. Even the weather was sorrowful.
Umbrellas popped open as people moved toward their cars. Despite frowns from the Special Services men, flashbulbs went off
and reporters recorded reactions in their notebooks. Liz recognized several senators and congressmen, the governor of California,
a few judges, and even a special representative of the president.

From the bottom of the stone steps under the overhang, the minister held up his hands for attention. “The McKenzie family
has asked me to thank each of you for your comforting support. They ask also that you please
not
accompany them to the burial, which is to be private and for family members only. Thank you.”

Thank goodness, Liz thought as she watched several people walking over to shake Adam’s hand as he stood by the dark limousine.
She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle an additional graveside ceremony.

At Liz’s elbow, Richard urged them forward. “Let’s offer our condolences before we leave,” he suggested.

It was the proper thing to do, she knew, yet she hated pushing forward in the small group drifting toward Adam
and Fitz, who’d moved to his brother’s side. Diane had ducked inside the limo, most likely unable to stand another offer of
sympathy, no matter how kindly intended.

Molly broke away and walked over to Fitz, embracing him with a consoling hug. “I’m so very sorry, Fitz,” she murmured.

Holding her close briefly, Fitz removed his glasses and closed his eyes. “Thank you for coming.”

She leaned back, searching his face. “How are
you
holding up?”

He shrugged, taken aback. The sympathy thus far had all been aimed at Diane and Adam. No one seemed to remember that he’d
loved that little boy as if he’d been his own son. His eyes bright, Fitz held on to her hands. “I’m all right. It’s Adam I’m
worried about.” He glanced at his brother standing several feet away. “He’s locking it all inside. He hasn’t cried, hasn’t
let it out.”

“Everyone handles grief in his own way, Fitz,” Molly said.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“You’re such a good brother, such a good friend,” she told him, her voice low, private. “Always looking out for Adam, worrying
about him. I often wonder, who nurtures you?”

More than a little surprised at the question, as well as the woman asking, Fitz studied Molly. He debated, then came to a
decision. “Can you stay? I’ll see to it that you get home.” The request was out of character for him, but this wasn’t a usual
day.

If Molly was surprised, her face didn’t show it. She gave a brief nod and squeezed his hand. “I’ll just go tell Liz.”

Liz wasn’t in the least astonished. Her friend had become more concerned about the feelings of others since Nathan had hurt
her so cruelly. “Of course we don’t mind,” Liz told her, touching her cheek to Molly’s. “I know Fitz can use your support.” For the second time since she’d known him, Adam’s brother looked truly unsettled.

Turning, Liz heard Richard say a few words, then step aside. Suddenly no one was standing between her and Adam. She looked
up into his eyes. They were more gray than blue today and as bleak as the murky sky, reflecting an irretrievable loss, a heart-wrenching
emptiness. Unable to think of anything to say that would help him, she instead opened her arms and moved to hold him close
for a moment.

She felt more than heard his breath catch as he struggled with his emotions, his strong hands crushing her to him. Just as
abruptly, he released her, and she moved on to allow the person behind her to approach him. Richard took her hand and they
hurried through the rain toward the church parking lot.

It wasn’t until she was settled in their rented car that Liz realized tears were flowing down her cheeks.

Fitz pushed in the blinking button on his desk phone and spoke into the receiver. “Diane? It’s Fitz. I’m sorry, but Adam’s
tied up and can’t come to the phone just now. He asked me to tell you that he’s not sure when he’ll be home and to go ahead
without him.”

“Apparently he’s forgotten that we’re expected at the Springers’ for cocktails and dinner tonight at seven,” Diane said, trying
to keep the annoyance out of her voice and failing miserably. “That’s
Senator
Springer, the man he’s been needing to talk with regarding that committee appointment.”

In contrast, Fitz’s voice was calm, patient. “Senator Springer talked with Adam after the morning session and they’ve come
to an agreement. He’s also aware that Adam will be tied up in meetings till late tonight. So, as I said, you go on to the
dinner party without him and he’ll be home when he’s finished.”

It was late September, three months since Keith’s death. When was Adam going to stop punishing her? Diane wondered, closing
her eyes on her frustration. She’d tried repeatedly to beg his forgiveness for any laxity on her part, to
explain that she’d taken her eyes from the boy mere seconds. Although Adam had said he believed her, nothing was the same.

“Fitz, why is Adam shutting me out like this?” She heard the confusion, the fear, in her voice and wished she could have hidden
it better from the brother she knew didn’t care for her.

“It’s not a matter of shutting anyone out,” Fitz went on, wishing he’d let a secretary take the call. “It’s a matter of priorities.
Adam has obligations. You’ve been a senator’s wife for nearly five years now. You know how busy Adam is when the Senate’s
in session. Other wives are in the same boat. I’m sure you won’t be the only unattached woman there this evening.”

“No, it’s
not
the same.
He’s
not the same since… since…”

Fitz let out an exasperated sigh. There was no way he was going to be drawn into a discussion on this. “Look, I’m sorry, Diane,
but I have to go. You should talk to your husband about this.”

Torn between hurt and anger, Diane hung up. Damn Fitz for not seeing her side of it. And damn Adam for blaming her. She hadn’t
been at fault, absolutely hadn’t.

Moving to the bar in the apartment they rented in Chevy Chase, she poured herself a double bourbon and branch.

Leaving his office and striding toward the committee room where Adam was attending a meeting, Fitz tried to walk off his annoyance.
He knew damn well that Diane was right, that Adam was burying himself in a mountain of work and avoiding being with her. It
was Adam’s way of handling his grief.

He had no way of knowing if Adam thought that Diane had been careless that fateful day and that her negligence had caused
Keith’s drowning. They’d never talked about it. Personally, Fitz didn’t think so. He wasn’t fond of Diane and knew she was
devious. But even she wouldn’t let a helpless four-year-old drown, especially not when she must have
been aware that Keith was the foundation of her marriage, the glue that held Adam to her. Diane was a lot of things, but stupid
wasn’t one of them.