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Palmer leaned back thoughtfully. With just that little bit of information, one of his boys could probably come up with her
name. No use upsetting Adam by probing further. If he knew who she was, he could at least keep a watchful eye on both of them.

“Divorce is a nasty business,” Palmer said slowly, letting his words hang in the air. “Upsets a lot of people.”

Adam glanced at Fitz, who apparently was fascinated with his spoon. He kept silent.

“How’s Diane taking all this?” Palmer asked.

“We’ve been unhappy a long time,” Adam hedged, then decided he owed Palmer the truth. “However, she doesn’t want the divorce.”

“I see. But you do. When it’s over, do you plan to marry this other woman?”

“If she’ll have me.” Adam shoved aside his coffee cup. “Look, I understand your hesitancy here. Perhaps it would be best for
both of us if I resign from the slate right now.”

“Let’s not be so hasty.” Palmer would have liked nothing better than to dump Adam right now. He’d never been really fond of
him. The man was too much of a maverick, too principled, to be a true politician. However, the polls showed Adam had the entire
West Coast wrapped around his little finger, and his popularity was spreading. Youthful, boyish charm, Palmer thought with
a pang of envy. If he had Adam’s looks and charisma and his own political savvy, nothing could ever stop him.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll stick with you for now, son. But watch yourself.” And just in case he wouldn’t, Palmer decided
to put one of his best men, Bernie Epstein, on Adam’s trail and have him report to Palmer directly. These were the nineties,
after all, and many divorced politicians had managed to hang on to their careers. However, Palmer had made a name for himself
on a platform of family values, which might make supporting a divorced running mate seem hypocritical to some voters. Then
again, how would it look if he dumped Adam and had to deal with backlash? “We don’t need any adverse publicity to screw things
up at this late date.” Palmer glanced at his watch and stood.

“Thanks, Palmer, I appreciate it. I need to bring something else to your attention.” The more he’d thought about the McCaffrey-Davis
situation, the more certain Adam had become that he ought to mention the problem now in case the situation got out of hand.
Quickly he told of Jesse’s call, their mutual concern of a possible cover-up, and the fact that Jesse was checking into things
further.

Tossing his toothpick into the ashtray, Palmer shook his head. “Nothing to any of that. My committee’s awarded contracts to
McCaffrey-Davis
because
we know they’re clean. And they’re going to support us because we believe in them. Just forget it. Jesse Conroy worries like
an old woman.” He strolled to the door, held out his hand. “Thanks for dinner. Don’t think it hasn’t been interesting. Fitz,
talk with you soon.”

Through the window, Fitz watched the senator get into his black Bentley, his driver closing the door. “He sure brushed that
McCaffrey-Davis thing off in a hurry, didn’t he?”

Adam loosened his tie. “Yes, and it worries me. I wish we’d hear back from Jesse.”

“We will soon.” Fitz poured himself more coffee. “So you’ve really gone and done it, eh?” Though he felt a little hurt that
Adam hadn’t confided in him about his plans, Fitz understood the reasons why. His brother did seem happier than he’d seen
him in ages.

Adam flopped onto a green corduroy armchair. “Yeah, and it feels great. Along those lines, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Uh-oh. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”

Adam grinned. “Probably not. You know my cabin up on Eagle Lake?”

Fitz guessed immediately. “You want to take Liz there?”

“I want to arrange to have us meet there. Fly in separately to the Sacramento airport, small craft to Redding, helicopter
from there. You’d have to cover for me, keep the media at bay, call Carl and have some supplies put in.”

“Is this wise?”

Adam ran a hand through his hair. “Fitz, I’m through measuring the wisdom of every little thing I do as if a voter were sitting
on my shoulder. I work damn hard for these people, but I don’t owe them my life’s blood. I’ve gotten back something I never
thought I’d have again. ‘I’ve filed for divorce, and my attorney tells me Diane and I are legally separated
until it’s final. I want a little time alone with the woman I never should have let go, the woman I’ve never stopped loving.
Is that so much to ask?”

“When do you want to go?”

“Next weekend.”

“I don’t know if we can reschedule your appointments.…”

Adam clamped down on his temper. He was not going to give in on this. “Look, I’m asking for three days. Friday through Sunday.
Palmer and I agreed at our first meeting after the convention that we’d each take one weekend a month off. That was eight
weeks ago, and I’ve had only one day without some meeting or plane trip or damn dinner I had to attend. I think I’m entitled
to three lousy days. I’ll call Palmer myself and tell him I’ll do double duty after I return.”

Fitz knew when he was licked. “All right. I’ll arrange everything.” As he always did, whether he agreed or not. Fitz couldn’t
help thinking of their father, whose obsession with a beautiful woman had ruined his career, then his life. Was Adam about
to throw away his future for Liz?

“That’s great. Thanks.” Adam rose, walking toward the spare room. He was staying with Fitz for a few days, until he could
find an apartment he liked. “I have to make a couple of calls.”

He could hardly wait to phone Liz, to tell her all that had happened today, to listen to her soft voice while he pictured
her sitting curled up on that soft leather couch in her den. He swelled just thinking of her, then laughed out loud.

No, there was nothing wrong with him. Liz’s hands, her mouth, her loving touch, had cured him.

Fitz sat next to the pilot, peering out the helicopter window; the noise made conversation difficult. The coastal range of
the Trinity Alps was beautiful this time of year. The chopper dipped lower, and he could see white oaks and cedar, stately
ponderosa pine and tall fir trees, as well as redwood. The mountain runoff trailed down a rocky slope and became a stream
that ran alongside the rustic log cabin. Adam had purchased the place eight years ago and could count on the fingers of one
hand the number of times he’d visited it. A cattle rancher named Carl Masters from the valley kept an eye on it for him.

“There it is,” he yelled over his shoulder to Liz, who quickly leaned forward.

He’d done a lot of things working with Adam, but this was the first time he’d arranged a tryst, Fitz thought with more than
a mild pang of envy. His brother had seemed like a different person since leaving Diane, more like the man he’d been in the
early days. He worked more efficiently, smiled
more readily, praised more quickly. After a loveless marriage and his son’s death, he deserved happiness, Fitz thought.

Still, Fitz was human and couldn’t help wishing that things had worked out for him and the woman who still owned his heart
even after all these years. He’d heard recently that Sandy was on husband number two. He sighed, wondering how he’d feel if
he were to see her again.

At least there was no doubt in his mind that Liz loved Adam deeply. Fitz had never forgotten the scene in Adam’s hospital
room years ago. This morning, when he’d met her at the Redding airport and hurried her to the chopper, she’d glowed with excitement.

“I think it’ll be best if I put her down in that area over there,” the pilot told Fitz, pointing to a section of wild grass
not far from the house.

“Whatever you say,” Fitz answered. He saw a man leave the porch and shade his eyes as he looked up. Adam had arrived yesterday
to make sure the rancher had stocked the cabin. He and Liz were being careful not to travel together. Fitz was to divert the
attention of the press in the event someone asked where Adam was.

The pilot pulled back on the cyclic to cushion the landing, then pulled up on the collective stick, adding a push on the antitorque
pedal to keep the nose straight. In moments he had set the big whirling bird down smoothly.

Fitz unlocked the door and stepped out, then reached to help Liz down. He spoke above the whirring sound of the blades. “Have
you everything you need?”

Turning around, Liz spotted Adam, now running toward the chopper. A smile transformed her face. “Yes, everything I need.”

“We’ll be back for you Monday morning,” he told her, grabbing her bag, but she’d already started toward Adam. Fitz ducked
low and walked forward, then stood watching them.

They came together on a patch of ankle-high, grass. Adam
picked her up and swung her around twice, then lowered her a fraction and pressed his mouth to hers. Liz’s arms wound around
his neck, and she kissed him back. A cool mountain breeze ruffled their hair, but they didn’t notice, didn’t care. They were
oblivious, totally absorbed in each other.

Slowly Fitz set down her suitcase and walked back to board the helicopter. Some moments were too private to invade.

As the chopper lifted upward, he saw Adam and Liz waving to him. With mixed emotions he waved back.

“I’ve never seen you in jeans,” Liz commented as they walked toward the house, Adam carrying her bag in one hand while the
other rested at her waist, holding her close against his body.

“I’ve been known to shed the three-piece suits on occasion.” He’d told her to bring warm things since the temperature at night
often fell to freezing at the higher altitude, though it hovered in the mid-seventies by day. She had on a long checkered
shirt over slim jeans, and new boots because he’d said they’d go walking in the woods. Her hair was coppery in the sunlight,
and her eyes were the color of good brandy. “You look no older than that day you first came to my apartment with letters for
me to sign.”

Liz felt a jolt of nerves. She
was
older, seventeen years older, and though she wasn’t a vain person, she knew childbirth and time had left their mark on her.
The thought of undressing in front of a man—
this
man—had her feeling anxious.

“Wait’ll you see this place.” He led her up onto the wooden porch that wrapped around two sides of the house. Like his house
on the sea, he loved this cabin and wished he had more time to spend up here.

The cabin had apparently been built by someone who wanted to experience the primitive life without sacrificing comfort. They
walked into a large room with hobnail flooring
and thick area rugs in a masculine geometric pattern. A huge fireplace made of California river rock dominated one wall, with
recessed bookcases flanking it. The sofa and chairs were oversize, upholstered in leather and corduroy, and the tables were
sturdy oak.

The kitchen, however, was modern, bleached pine, with enough shiny chrome appliances and doodads to make Julia Child cheer.
Up a winding, open stairway was the bedroom, with a magnificent four-poster bed made from rough-hewn pine and a matching dresser,
a bentwood rocker, and a corner fireplace. The lone bath featured a huge claw-footed tub and separate shower.

Adam waited for her reaction as she prowled the bedroom, opening his closet door, leaning down to smell the wildflowers he’d
gathered and put in a blue cut-glass vase an hour before.

Liz swung around, a soft smile on her face. “So you finally got your cabin in the woods. It’s lovely. I wouldn’t change a
thing.”

He pulled her into a quick embrace, kissing the top of her head. “Diane hated it up here, the weather, the cabin. The one
time I brought her, she refused to stay.”

“She’s not taking this divorce well, is she?” When he’d called Liz last week to arrange this weekend, he hadn’t commented
on his wife’s reaction. Having known Diane for years, though, Liz could well imagine the scene she’d caused.

“She’s royally pissed, if you want the truth,” Adam said as he linked his hands at her waist in back. “But it’s not going
to do her one bit of good.” He hadn’t told her yet about Diane’s betrayal and Barry’s spying. They had three glorious days
together. “How about some lunch? Grilled-cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Not very fancy, I know, but I’m saving my best
effort for dinner. How’s fettuccine Alfredo with Caesar salad sound?”

Liz’s eyes were misty as she hooked her hands behind his
head. “I don’t care if we eat chocolate-covered ants. Being here with you is enough.”

“Ditto.” He bent his head to kiss her.

Wearing matching fleece-lined denim jackets that Adam had brought, they walked along the bank of the rushing stream as it
splashed over the broken bedrocks. Her hand warm in Adam’s, Liz didn’t feel the chill of dusk as the sun slowly lowered behind
the mountain range. He’d just told her about Barry and Diane’s ten-year complicity, and what Liz felt was anger, pure and
simple.

“Frankly, I’m not as surprised at Diane as I am at Barry. He’s been with you so long.”

“He’s a gambler. I should have guessed, but I didn’t know he was in so deep.” Adam helped Liz skirt a decaying log just as
a good-size trout leaped from the brook and swiftly disappeared.

“Do you think she knows it’s me you’re involved with? Wait, never mind. Of course she does. She raged at me that evening at
the Del in the ladies’ room, warned me to stay away from you.”

Adam tucked her hand and his own in his jacket pocket, drawing her closer to him. He wondered if he could ever get close enough.
“That doesn’t surprise me, either. What’d you say to her?”

“Something noncommittal. Probably made her more suspicious.”

“Her brother works for some sleazy scandal paper, you know.”

“Oh, Lord.” She heard an owl hoot from somewhere in the treetops. It was so beautiful here, so peaceful. Would they ever really
be at peace together? She stopped, turning to him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Divorce, political disruption, upheaval,
such a lot to go through.

“I’ve already done it, and yes, I’m sure. But I have to warn
you, it might get messy. Diane’s a loose cannon. What do you think Sara will say about me?”