by Pat Warren
“I certainly didn’t expect you to hire one of my own staff to spy on me.” He walked past her to gather the rest of his things from the bathroom.
Diane crushed out her cigarette, trying to organize her thoughts. “Just where do you think you’re going?” she demanded as he walked back in and placed several items in his bag.
“There isn’t much left between us. No love, no trust, and now no respect. Isn’t it time we stopped hurting each other? I’m leaving.” Suddenly he felt bone-tired as he closed his bag and clicked the locks in place.
“Leaving? You commit adultery and you make me out to be the one at fault? Listen, sugar, I’ve got friends in this town, and—”
“For your information, I didn’t commit adultery, so you’re going to have one hell of a time trying to prove I did.” He yanked the bag from the bed. “I’m headed for my lawyer’s office now and filing for divorce. I suggest you call one of those friends of yours to represent you.” He started for the door.
“Damn you, Adam!” she screamed, racing after him. “I’ll ruin you. If you walk out on me, I’ll call Palmer. He’ll toss you off the ticket after I get through telling him everything.” She hated the shrill sound of her voice, but she was fighting for her life here.
At the door, Adam turned. “Don’t bother. I’m having dinner with him tonight and telling him myself. If he wants me to resign from the ticket, I will.”
That truly shocked her. “You can’t do that to me, to us. You’ll destroy everything we’ve worked for all these years.” Her pride crumbled under the weight of her crushed dreams. Tears she couldn’t prevent coursed down her cheeks. “Adam, please don’t leave me. I love you.” With all her heart she meant those words, now that there seemed little chance he’d believe her.
Adam remembered Liz’s definition of love, which she’d once mentioned to him: putting another’s happiness above your own. Slowly he shook his head. “No, you love politics, the limelight, being a senator’s wife.” He reached for the doorknob.
Diane straightened, no longer trying to hide the agony she felt. “Tell me, Adam. Is she worth it? Is she worth throwing away all your dreams for?”
Did she know, or was she guessing? He looked at her, wishing there were an easier way to part. However, he needed to let her know it was final. “Yes, she is.”
Diane watched him go, heard the sound of the closing door. With a cry she grabbed the large crystal ashtray from the coffee table and flung it against the door with all her might. But even the shattering crash didn’t relieve her angry frustration.
Palmer Ames set down his coffee cup and stuck a toothpick into the corner of his mouth as he carefully regarded the man across the dinner table from him. Adam McKenzie, his vice-presidential running mate, whom all of his advisors had assured him was solid as a rock, had just announced he’d filed for divorce this afternoon.
The election was less than three months away.
“I understand this is a shock to you, Palmer,” Adam said, “and there’ll be no hard feelings if you feel I should resign from the ticket. I’m aware that the timing is lousy. My work is very important to me, but I’ve come to realize that my personal life matters, too.”
Silently Palmer shifted the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth as he shifted his gaze to Adam’s brother. They were in Fitz’s apartment in Chevy Chase because Adam had requested an ultra-private conversation. Palmer now understood why. Fitz had scarcely spoken throughout dinner and was now toying with his teaspoon, looking no happier than he himself was over this piece of news.
Palmer adjusted his tinted glasses and looked back at Adam. “Is there another woman?”
“I don’t care to discuss the personal details at this time.”
Yes indeed there was another woman. “Damn it to hell, son, you and I are going to be living in and out of each other’s pockets if the good people of this country elect us to office. I’ve got to know what’s going on. One surprise is one too many.”
Adam gave himself a moment to consider that and decided he’d probably feel the same if he were in Palmer’s shoes. “Yes, there is, but I want her kept out of this.”
“ ’Course you do.” Palmer leaned forward. “You been sleeping with her?” He saw the temper move into Adam’s eyes and held up a hand. “Don’t go getting your dander up. I personally don’t care. I just want to know so I can figure out if you’ve left a trail some smart media person can pick up and spread all over the damn papers.”
“No, I haven’t slept with her. We’ve been friends a long time. Whenever we’ve been together, there’ve always been others around.” Except at Greentrees and her home, but nothing had happened.
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 h
im 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.
CHAPTER 19
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 quic
k 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?”