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In the hallway he heard typing in the next office and walked over to peek in. From the doorway he saw Diane Cramer working
at her desk, unaware of him. Today she was wearing a business suit that, conservative as it was, couldn’t hide her lush curves.
She had a body that could only be called ripe, and she was no dummy, either. She’d proven herself
an able campaigner and a loyal aide, one who willingly went the extra mile.

She’d make a good political wife, he mused. She’d learned when to speak up and when to step back. He could do worse than a
woman like Diane. She clearly had his best interests at heart.

The money men in the party had pointed out on several occasions that voters preferred a married candidate. Perhaps he should
think about settling down. Since he could never have the one he really wanted, perhaps he should go after someone who would
be a good, solid helpmate, someone attractive yet one who wouldn’t cause him to churn inside and lose focus.

With someone like Diane, he could lay it on the line. She’d been around enough to know it wouldn’t be a love match but, rather,
a joining of forces, as they both reached for the same goal. He would be honest with her and faithful, and expect the same.
There’d be no illusions and therefore little chance of getting hurt.

Yes, it just might be time.

“Diane,” Adam said, entering the room. “You’re working awfully late.”

Looking not in the least startled, she turned to smile at him.

“Would you have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.

“It’s spring and I’m in love. Wildly, wonderfully in love. I thought, as my best friend, that you’d be happy for me.” Molly
struggled not to sound petulant as she squeezed lemon into her iced tea.

“I
am
happy for you,” Liz said from the corner of the veranda where she was concentrating on perfectly molding the wing of a seagull.
“It’s just that it’s happened awfully fast. Two weeks. Honestly, Molly.”

“Sometimes it happens that way. As I recall, it did with you.” Having made her point, Molly drank deeply.

Liz shot her friend an annoyed look. Richard wasn’t home, but she didn’t want their housekeeper to overhear, either. “That
was different. I was too young to know better. You, on the other hand, are a tad more experienced.”

“You make it sound as if there’ve been hundreds.” But Molly was in too good a mood to be dragged down. “Oh, Liz. Wait till
you meet him. Nathan’s wonderful.”

Molly had met Nathan Steel, a San Diego businessman, at
the opening of Casa des Artistas, the art gallery in which Molly owned half interest. She and her partner, Armand Ortega,
had had a preview showing for serious art collectors. Nathan had fallen in love with Molly’s work, then with Molly herself—or
so the story went.

“So when do we meet Mr. Wonderful?” Liz teased, deciding that unwanted advice was the last thing her friend would listen to.
It was just that experience had taught Liz that things that happened quickly usually ended badly.

“Mmm, maybe this weekend. He’s out of town on business. He flies his own plane. Imagine.”

Liz smiled as she shifted her attention to the bird’s other wing. “Lord, did I sound this goofy when I first fell in love?”

“Worse.” Molly set down her glass and eyed her friend. “I take it you saw the wedding-of-the-year coverage in the
Union.”

Liz sobered immediately. “It was hardly a surprise. Diane had her sights set on Adam back when we were working on getting
him elected. I’m a little surprised it took her so long.” Nevertheless, seeing the wedding announcement had jarred Liz.

“That dress must have cost a fortune. It looked good even the second time around.”

“What do you mean, second?”

“Fitz used to say Diane bought all her clothes at a resale shop. I have to say, her taste has improved.” Molly paused for
another sip of tea. “Why do you suppose Adam married her?”

Liz stepped around to the back of the gull. “I’m the wrong one to ask. People marry for a variety of reasons.” Whatever Adam’s
reasons were, she fervently hoped he’d be happy.

“Not as far as I’m concerned. Love is the only reason to give up your glorious freedom.”

Freedom, Liz thought. She’d never really had arty. She’d gone from college to loving Adam to becoming pregnant by
Adam to marrying Richard. Her choices, she’d told herself, and she had few regrets.

“Aren’t you surprised that Adam decided not to run for the Senate after the party pursued him so hotly? All the papers predicted
he would after the Becker case.”

“Not really. We watched him being interviewed the other evening. He said after much serious consideration that he felt the
timing was wrong. He’s very committed to negotiating a case involving a Mexican national at the moment, and he still has to
try the Becker case. He said he feels he wants to give Californians who elected him a fair shake before going off in other
directions. I thought it was well put, and so did Richard.”

“He probably took a secret poll and found he wouldn’t get elected.” Molly caught Liz’s raised-brow look. “All right, so his
reasons are altruistic. I imagine by the next election he’ll be an even stronger candidate. I’m pleased to inform you that
Nathan’s a Democrat.” She giggled. “No mixed marriage for me.”

Never had Liz seen Molly quite so girlish. “I hope you’ll get to know Nathan better before you go picking out china patterns.”

“Absolutely. At least another week.” Grinning foolishly, Molly walked over to take a closer look at Liz’s sculpture. With
a practiced eye she examined the feet resting on a piece of driftwood, the impressive wingspan, the cocked head. “I wonder
if you know how good you are.”

“Well, thank you.”

“I mean it, Liz.” She walked over to the far table, where a bust of two-and-a-half-year-old Sara sat alongside a reclining
cocker spaniel. “I wish you’d let me display a couple of your pieces. Anonymously, of course.”

“No thanks. I’m not good enough. This is just a hobby with me.”

“And a lovely hobby it is,” Richard said, coming through the double doors.

“Hello, darling.” Liz waited for him to kiss her as he always did, holding her messy hands out at her sides. “I’m glad you’re
home early. I’ll go clean up. Try to talk Molly out of eloping, will you?” With a laugh, she left.

Richard poured himself a tall glass of tea. “Eloping? I thought I’d get to give the bride away.”

“Don’t worry, when the time comes, you will.” She joined him at the table. “I wish you could talk your wife into letting me
display some of her work. She’s an exceptional talent, you know.”

“I agree, and I’d certainly be in favor of that. But it’s up to Liz, of course.” The wet cloth she’d draped over the work
in progress slipped off, and he moved to pick it up. Carefully he placed it over the seagull. Hands on his hips, he surveyed
her current workspace. “You know, what Liz needs is more room. I told her to convert one of the bedrooms into a studio, but
she said the light wasn’t right.” Slowly he walked back to the table and leaned against the half wall. “An art studio should
have lots of light, right?”

“Ideally, yes.”

Richard nodded thoughtfully, then glanced toward the far left of his home. “Above the garage would be perfect. Level the roofline,
add on a studio, windows on three sides.” Excited, he turned to Molly. “What do you think?”

“I think Liz would love it.”

He smiled happily. “I’ll call my friend, Will. He’s an architect with vision. Yes, I’ll do it tomorrow and surprise her.”

Molly could afford to be generous now that she, too, had her man. “Liz is very fortunate to have you, Richard.”

“And she knows it,” Liz said, rejoining them, carrying a sleepy-eyed Sara, who’d just awakened from her nap. Her blond hair
was a tumble of curls, her wide blue eyes a bit drowsy.

Richard rose immediately and held out his arms. “How’s my girl?”

The baby smiled and went to him, cuddling against his neck.

“You look thirsty, sweetie. Let’s go in and Daddy will find you some juice.” Chattering to her, Richard walked inside.

Molly watched him leave, wondering if he ever tried to guess who had fathered Sara. A contented man, he probably never brought
it up for fear of rocking the boat. Still, it had to drift into his mind occasionally. It was obvious to Molly, who knew Adam,
that Sara resembled her father a great deal, right down to the small dimple at the left corner of her mouth. Perhaps Richard
had his suspicions but had long ago decided to keep them to himself.

She turned to look at Liz, who was also staring after them.

“Yes,” she said softly, “I am very lucky.”

Seated at her vanity table, Liz angled her head to check her mirrored image. She’d let her hair grow longer, just past her
shoulders, because Richard liked it that way. She’d chosen to wear his favorite dress for tonight. It was white with a scoop
neck, fitted waist, and gently flaring skirt that swirled at midcalf. The tan she’d acquired walking on the beach and watching
Sara play in the ocean had turned her skin a golden color. She supposed she looked as good as she ever had. If only she could
stop trembling.

Their Pacific Beach home was decorated to the nines for the largest party the Fairchilds had ever given. Richard had arranged
to put on a dinner-dance as a fund-raiser for Adam McKenzie, who recently had announced that he was running for the Senate.

Liz had watched her father over the last several years draw Richard more deeply into supporting select Democratic candidates.
Adam, of course, had been a favorite of Joseph Townsend for some time. She knew that Richard and Adam had lunch occasionally
with her father, but this fund-raiser
had come as quite a shock when Richard had mentioned it to her.

Of course, she’d known her father had been behind the suggestion. Under the circumstances she could hardly have objected.
Still, in her wildest dreams Liz never thought she’d be entertaining friends, neighbors, and fellow Democrats with Adam and
his wife as the guests of honor. The very idea had her hands shaking as she inserted her diamond stud earrings. Minutes away
from the appointed hour, she fervently wished she were anywhere but here.

It had been seven years since she’d laid eyes on Adam. Of course, she’d seen his picture in the papers and his occasional
television appearances. Fresh from his resounding victory in the Becker case, an attorney general known to be tough on crime,
gun control laws, teenage curfews, and gang supervision, he was often called the people’s choice. His negotiating skills had
recently resulted in an agreement with Mexico that would benefit migrant workers. Californians heartily approved of him, even
forgiving him his youth. He was definitely head and shoulders above his opponent.

It wasn’t his credentials that intimidated her, Liz thought as she dabbed Joy at her wrists and throat. It was her remembered
history with him, brief though it had been. It was those memories that threatened to obliterate the present. It was the child
that Adam, unaware, shared with her.

Though she could have kept Sara sequestered upstairs with Dorey, a somewhat irrational fear had driven her to take her daughter
to stay with Katherine overnight. At six Sara was precocious and fun-loving and resembled her real father too much for Liz’s
comfort. Even with Sara out of the way, her nerves were strung tight as a high wire in a circus act.

“There you are,” Richard said, striding into the room. “The caterer is asking for you.” He paused, meeting his wife’s eyes
in the mirror. “You look lovely, Liz, as always.”

She swung around and stood, smiling at him, reaching to straighten his bow tie. “And you’re very handsome in a tux.”
At forty-two Richard was the picture of success. Slim and tan, his brown hair graying at the temples only, he had smile lines
at the corners of his eyes that were a testament of his happiness. At times, looking at him, she’d felt steeped in guilt at
not loving him the way he deserved to be loved. Yet she’d tried in every way to make him happy. Liz felt warmth for this generous
man flood her and leaned in to press her lips briefly to his.

“What was that for?” he asked, pleased nonetheless. Liz wasn’t given to many affectionate gestures.

“That was a ‘just because.’ “

He took her hand. “Ready?”

As ready as she’d ever be. Feeling her skittish heart beat with every step, she went downstairs with him.

Adam stared out the window of Fitz’s Lincoln as they drove along the coastal highway on their way to Pacific Beach. Next to
him on the backseat, Diane was unusually quiet. He wondered if she, too, had her reasons for being nervous about attending
this fund-raiser at the Fairchilds’.

Over the years Joseph Townsend had brought Richard to several political dinner gatherings at the La Jolla Beach and Tennis
Club; both men were quite involved in the Democratic Party at the local level. Occasionally Adam had even had lunch with Richard
along with other members but without Joseph. Yet he’d been surprised when Richard had called, suggesting the dinner-dance
at his home. He suspected that Joseph might be grooming his son-in-law to run for office one day.

Adam’s first thought had been to come up with some excuse. He could, of course, use added campaign contributions, and Richard
and Joseph knew a lot of generous people. But he’d have preferred that someone else host the event. However, since Richard
had waxed enthusiastic when he’d called, Adam’s sensible side told him it would be unwise to turn
down the offer. Besides, a part of him badly wanted to see Liz again.

Maybe he was a masochist, Adam thought ruefully. Seven years of anger had mellowed into a reluctant regret. Who didn’t have
a few? To see her again under any circumstances would be a test of will. Then again, if the gods were smiling on him, she’d
turn out to weigh two hundred pounds and have developed a wart on the end of her nose.

“Penny for your thoughts, sugar,” Diane said, reaching for his hand. He’d been quiet while they’d dressed and on the ride
so far. Too quiet. She was used to Adam’s introspective silences, but tonight she sensed an edginess that belied his calm
demeanor. Was it because this was his first really big fund-raiser? Or was it, as she feared, because he still had feelings
for Liz Townsend Fairchild?