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Adam frowned. “What are you doing here?”

She sauntered in, wearing her favorite red suit, and sat on the chair opposite his desk. “I’m here at the request of Palmer
Ames. I flew in this morning. That red-eye’s a terrible flight, but I couldn’t refuse the next president, now could I?”

He really needed this right now, Adam thought wearily. “I can’t imagine what Palmer would want you to say to me.” He set about
straightening the papers on his desk, preparing to pack his briefcase.

“After all, sugar, I
am
still your wife, and Palmer doesn’t know a thing about our little tiff.” She’d vowed the last time Adam had so airily dismissed
her that she wouldn’t ever beg him again. But when Palmer had called and told her that she was his last hope to try to persuade
Adam to be sensible, she’d been flattered. Of course, Diane was aware that Palmer was grasping at any straw to keep Adam from
divorcing before the election and to keep him from embarrassing the party by interfering in Ireland. If Palmer believed her
words carried some weight with Adam, maybe he was right.

Diane leaned forward, letting a fair amount of cleavage show. “He wants me to talk to you about jeopardizing a career that’s
just really getting going. Why, Palmer says that as his vice president, you’d learn a great deal and your popularity would
increase tremendously. He plans to personally groom you to follow in his footsteps.” When Diane had heard that, that one day
Adam could be president, nothing could have stopped her from trying one more time. Even though it galled her to have to scratch
and claw for her rightful due.

What a lot of bull, Adam thought, not even looking up. Palmer was for Palmer, period. Adam was fully aware that the only reason
he was on the ticket was that Palmer needed the votes Adam could bring in. Adam was beginning to realize that once Palmer
was president, the man planned to do everything he could to relegate Adam to little more than an errand boy. However, Palmer
would have to learn that Adam didn’t dance easily to someone else’s tune, even if that someone was president. “I guess you’re
going to have to go back and tell him you failed with me.”

“Now just a minute, sugar. Let’s consider
all
the possibilities.”

Adam shoved another file in his briefcase. “Look, Di, I don’t have time for this. My plane leaves in a couple of hours, and
I have a lot to do.”

She raised a brow. “You’re
not
going to Ireland after Palmer’s warning, are you?”

“Yes, I am. I have to try to get those three Americans back home.”

Diane felt the heat move into her face as her eyes narrowed. “You mean Sara Fairchild. You have to free Sara Fairchild, your
lover’s daughter. You don’t give a damn about the other two.”

Surprised at the malice in her tone, Adam stared for a long moment at a woman he no longer knew. “Yes, I have a personal interest
in Sara. Liz and I have been friends a long time.”

She studied his eyes and saw the truth he couldn’t hide. Anger raced through her, and she totally lost it. “So she finally
told you.” Diane’s voice rose as the last of her control shattered. “I always knew you’d walk away from everything we’ve both
worked for once you learned that that whore gave birth to your brat years ago.” She was losing, losing everything: Adam, her
position in political society, the respect of her peers. She’d be laughed at, shunned. She felt like smashing something, like
crying out to the fates.

Shock turned to fury as realization slammed into Adam.
“You knew! You knew Sara was my daughter all along, and you didn’t tell me. Good God, Diane. Liz was young and scared, but
you. You had only
your
interests at heart. You knew how badly I wanted children, and you kept silent.” If he hadn’t been certain before, he surely
was now. Suddenly calm, he snapped his briefcase shut. “Get out. I never want to see you again.”

Her rage making her unsteady, Diane stood. “You’ll regret this day, Adam McKenzie. You just watch and see if you don’t.” Angrily
she stomped past two people in the front office whom she didn’t even see. Out on the street she walked rapidly, needing to
burn off her temper.

She never should have allowed herself to care, to become vulnerable to him, to let him hurt her. Her initial instinct— never
to make the mistake of falling in love—had been right. If only she’d followed it.

She might have lost the battle, Diane thought bitterly, but she would win the war. Back in Mississippi they’d had a saying:
Don’t get mad, get even.

Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and she smiled. She knew the perfect way to get even with her dear husband.

Liz hadn’t wanted to go to La Jolla to stay with her mother, knowing she was rotten company and would only depress Katherine;
but since Adam had left for Ireland yesterday, the newshounds had been hovering outside her Pacific Beach home, trailing after
her everywhere, phoning constantly. Here, in the big house on the sea, set back from the street and with high stucco fencing
on three sides, she felt more protected.

Seated in the family room as a segment of the six o’clock news finished, Katherine looked over at her daughter. “I suppose
I was naive to expect journalists to just report a story without innuendos and speculations.” They’d listened with avid interest
as the television anchorman had spoken over film showing Adam McKenzie and his entourage arriving in
Dublin and being escorted to a connecting flight. The newsman had gone on to conjecture why this particular senator was interceding
on behalf of the captives, citing his long friendship with Liz Fairchild, the mother of one of the hostages, and his reputed
expertise as a negotiator. He’d ended by saying that when they’d approached Senator McKenzie’s office about rumors that the
senator and his wife had split up, Fitz McKenzie had merely said, “No comment.”

Liz was too focused on the situation to worry about media speculations. “He looked tired, didn’t you think?” she asked aloud,
unaware her hands were shredding a tissue in her lap. “He probably didn’t sleep on that long flight over.”

When Liz had called to ask her mother if she could come stay for a while, she’d explained how she’d finally told Adam about
Sara, about Adam filing for divorce, about Palmer Ames being adamant that Adam not go to Ireland, and about her need to get
away from the media. “Of course he’s tired, and concerned. He’s reacting like a father, I imagine.”

Katherine turned to study Liz. Her daughter had been so quiet since arriving, so withdrawn. Naturally, many things weighed
heavily on Liz’s mind right now: Sara’s safety, Sara’s reaction when she learned about Adam, and Palmer’s opposition, along
with possible repercussions from the voting public. Katherine knew Liz had never wanted to jeopardize Adam’s career, but this
time she’d had no choice. “After the initial shock, was Adam pleased to learn he had a daughter?” Liz had been so vague, so
distracted.

Liz hit the remote button, turning off the television, and sat back. “Very pleased. You’ll recall that his adopted son drowned
some time ago. He was devastated.” She heard the doorbell and sighed wearily.

“I’ll get it,” Katherine said, rising. “If it’s a reporter, I’ll send him packing in a hurry.” They’d been phoning all day,
but she’d let the answering machine take the calls.

In moments she was back with Molly. “Look who’s here, Liz.”

Molly leaned down to hug her friend. “I just got back in town and heard. Oh, Liz.” She felt guilty for not being there for
her friend, but she’d been away at an art show in New York. “How are you doing?” Molly sat down beside her.

“I’m all right.” Liz held on to her friend’s hand, fighting the urge to lay her head on Molly’s shoulder and weep. This daily
struggle with tears was so hard. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I. I’ll make a pot of tea,” Katherine said, walking to the kitchen.

“Tell me everything,” Molly suggested, thinking it would do Liz good to talk about it. She was too prone to bottle things
up inside.

Liz brought her friend up-to-date on all that had happened after that evening they’d had dinner together in Pacific Beach.
Had that been only four days ago? It seemed to Liz another lifetime ago.

Oh, Sara, please be all right. Please, God, let her be all right.

Molly listened, squeezing Liz’s hand reassuringly. “Adam will get her back, especially now that he knows.”

“God, I hope so.” She raised large, luminous eyes to Molly. “I’m so scared.”

Molly hugged her close. “I know.” She drew back as Katherine returned with the tea tray, waited until each had a cup poured,
then took a deep breath. “I hate like hell being the bearer of more bad news, but I think it’s better coming from me than
if you found out from strangers.” Molly removed a folded newspaper from her large canvas bag and held it out to Liz.

The
National Examiner’s
headlines were huge and ugly. POLITICAL LOVE TRIANGLE it screamed. Liz struggled with an involuntary shudder as her mother
came to read over her shoulder. There was a rather grainy picture of Liz taken several years ago, a more recent photo of Adam
with Diane at the Democratic convention, and a third of the sculpture piece in Molly’s gallery. She almost groaned aloud.

The article, written by Harlan Cramer, hinted at secret meetings between Adam and Liz, implying a seventeen-year affair and
naming the love child that belonged to the maverick senator from California. It went on to reveal that Megan O’Malley was
really Liz Fairchild, “the artist who flaunts her love for a married man in her work.”

“How did they find out that you’re Megan O’Malley?” Molly questioned. “I know it didn’t come from anyone at the gallery.”

“Probably through Diane,” Liz answered. “She’s sneaky and persistent. And her brother’s Harlan Cramer.”

“The man’s a disgrace to his profession,” Katherine declared.

Harlan wrote of the private agony of the brave and loyal wife, who’d stuck by her husband through a serious accident and the
devastating drowning of their son, only to be shamed by his infidelity. Adam McKenzie, Harlan declared, had been deluding
the voters as to his sterling character when, in fact, he was a shameless adulterer.

“Dear God,” Liz whispered. “I had a feeling Diane wouldn’t take this lying down.”

“The bitch,” Molly commented. “She’s willing to humiliate herself to ruin Adam and embarrass you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about right now, or even Adam’s political future. We’ve talked about it, and he’s resilient.” Tossing
the paper down as if it were contaminated, Liz looked from her mother to her friend. “What about Sara? What if she hears about
this before I can talk to her?”

“Three days, and we haven’t heard a word,” Liz said, her voice strained, unnatural. She turned from the terrace ledge where
she stood and looked over at Adam’s brother seated on the couch. “I’m going crazy, Fitz.”

“I understand, and I wish I could tell you more.” He’d come to the La Jolla house to offer what little comfort he could and
had found Liz in an agitated state. He couldn’t
blame her, but neither could he do much to ease her mind. “All we can do is wait, and maybe pray.”

Liz rubbed her hands along her cool arms, trying to warm herself. Despite the lingering heat of an August evening, she felt
chilly. Lack of sleep and too much coffee were the culprits, most likely. “I’ve been praying and hoping and wishing. Can’t
you contact them?”

Fitz shook his head. “My information is that Adam and Kowalski were met at Donegal by Kendrick Ryan, the contact over there.
The plan was that Kendrick would arrange a meeting with the man in charge at the north end, someone named Jamie Hogan.”

“He’s the one who engineered the hostage situation?”

“To the best of our knowledge.”

“Then he’s undoubtedly dangerous.”

Fitz rose and walked to her. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions, Liz. Kowalski’s been known to work miracles. And besides, they
wouldn’t be stupid enough to harm a U.S. senator.”

“What about Sara and Justine and Wayne? How do we know they’re… they’re all right?”

“We’ll know something soon.”

How soon? Liz turned toward the sea, covering her face with her hands, silent sobs shaking her shoulders.

Fitz couldn’t stand to watch her in pain. He moved close, took her in his arms, and held her. “Let it out.”

“I’m being punished, Fitz. I’ve loved a man I shouldn’t have loved, and now I’m being punished.”

His strong hands rubbed her back. “That’s crazy. We can’t help who we love. I ought to know. No matter how much I try, I can’t
seem to stop. And you can’t, either.”

Sniffling, Liz drew back and wiped her eyes. She’d been so centered on her own problems lately that she hadn’t noticed others
might be in pain, too. “You mean Molly?”

Fitz shoved his glasses back up on his nose and shook his head, a half smile on his face. “No, not Molly. She and I get
along well, and we even have fun together. The reason probably is that she’ll always love Nathan. And me, I’ll always love
someone from my past who’s married to husband number two, or so I hear.”

Stepping back, Liz studied his face in the soft light from the table lamp. “I’m so sorry, Fitz.” Once, at the cabin, Adam
had talked briefly of the woman who’d betrayed his brother. “Adam told me a little. She doesn’t deserve you.”

He shrugged. “I’ll live. Nobody promised us a rose garden. I don’t usually talk about what happened. But tonight, well, I
guess we’re both a little emotional, what with all that’s happened. I just wanted you to know that I do understand how you
feel.” He leaned close to kiss her forehead. “I understand all too well.”

Turning, he left the terrace and let himself out.

As she swung back to gaze out to sea, Liz felt like weeping—for all of them.

“The troubles began generations ago, you know,” Kendrick Ryan said as he tilted back onto the hind legs of the rickety chair.
He was a slim man, dressed in long shorts and a shirt that had been washed so often, it was difficult to determine its color.
His sandy hair was shaggy and his eyes an oddly innocent brown. “Aye, and they won’t be going away overnight.”