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Molly frowned. “Are you sure? Want me to go with you?”

Liz shook her head. “Thanks. I’ll talk with you later.”

She paused for one last look at Adam. Again catching her eye, he sent her a helpless shrug as another newspaperman took his
arm, trying to get him aside for a quote. She nodded her understanding and gave him a dazzling smile, then turned and walked
toward the door.

She hoped her false gaiety had fooled him. At the very least, she had her pride.

Wrapping a towel around her wet body, Liz left the bathroom and picked up the phone in midring. “Hello?”

“I was about to hang up. I thought you were out.” It was nearly midnight, Adam noted, but it was the first opportunity he’d
had to call. As the phone had kept ringing, he’d been alternately annoyed that she had tired of waiting for him and gone out
with someone else and relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain why he hadn’t called sooner.

“I was in the shower.” She thought his voice sounded tired but good. It had been nearly a week since election night, and this
was his first call. “How are you?” She hoped she sounded positive and not pathetic.

“Exhausted.” Adam leaned back on his desk chair and indicated to Fitz across the room that he’d be with him in a minute. “We
leave for Sacramento on an early flight.” And he still had to go home and pack, catch a few hours’ sleep. “I’d hoped we could
get together before I left, but it’s been crazy.”

“I can imagine.” She couldn’t. Couldn’t imagine that he hadn’t had time to call in six long days, not even for five minutes.

“How are
you
doing?” She didn’t sound happy, and he couldn’t blame her. But damn it, what could he do? He couldn’t divide himself into
any more pieces.

“Keeping busy.”

“Good, that’s good.” Small talk. Jesus, they’d always had so much to say. His guilt was in the way, and he didn’t know a way
around it. Again Fitz appeared in the doorway, giving him an impatient look. Nodding, Adam waved him off, shoved back the
chair, and stood. “This is lousy, I know, but I’ll make it up to you. Let me get established up there and get my feet wet.
Then I’ll call and hopefully you’ll be free to come up for the weekend.”

Liz squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the door frame. “That would be nice,” she managed, keeping her voice as steady
as possible.

They said their good-byes, and slowly Adam hung up the phone, feeling rotten. He hadn’t lied to her; he’d been so busy, he’d
scarcely had time to get his clothes to the cleaners. He’d known this would happen, had been prepared for it. He’d tried to
prepare Liz, yet she sounded… well, she sounded as if she understood, yet he could read between the lines and tell she didn’t.

Hand still on the instrument, Adam felt a wave of regret. He was knowingly using his new position to put some distance between
them. Had he remained near Liz, he never would have been able to back away from her. She had a stranglehold on him, and often
he felt as if he were going
down for the count. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t wind up like his father, weak and begging a woman.

The love of a beautiful woman, and then the loss of that love, had ruined his father’s life—and, subsequently, the lives of
his mother, Fitz, and himself. Liz appeared to care, but could he be sure her love would last? Could anyone? He couldn’t take
that chance.

He had an important job to do, one he’d been training for for years. He was finally moving in a positive direction. If what
Liz and he had was real, it would last. Once he was settled, he’d call her, ask her to Sacramento. And one day, when his future
was certain and he was in complete control of his feelings, he’d think seriously about a permanent relationship. The party
would just have to understand that, for now, he needed to remain single.

On that thought, he picked up his briefcase just as Fitz reappeared. “I’m coming,” he said. Turning out the lights, Adam wondered
why, if this was the right decision, he didn’t feel better about it.

Liz turned off the engine of her Mercedes and sat staring straight ahead, stunned. The eighth of December. She’d remember
the date always. She’d driven the ten miles between her gynecologist’s office and her apartment in a trance, uncertain how
she’d made it. The doctor had confirmed what she’d suspected for weeks now but had been afraid to utter out loud.

She was pregnant.

Nearly two months pregnant, to be exact. She’d been late before, but not this late. At first, ever hopeful, she’d attributed
the delay in her period to the emotional stress she’d been under lately. But too many anxious, sleepless nights had forced
her to find out for sure.

Knowing didn’t make her feel any better. Absently she pushed a fist into her stomach, where butterflies were dancing up a
storm. Well, she could stop taking antacids. It definitely
wasn’t indigestion. The occasional queasiness and random light-headedness wasn’t the flu, either.

A baby. Fighting tears, she pressed the other fist to her mouth. Dear God, a child. Adam’s child.

Feeling as if she were sleepwalking, she got out of the car and somehow made it to her apartment before she lost her meager
lunch. Shakily she brushed her teeth and fixed a cold cloth for her head, then lay down on the couch.

This should be one of the happiest days of her life. She should be leaping with joy instead of crouching here in agony. She
loved children and wanted several. But the timing was rotten. By all rights Adam should be told. He was the father and should
have a say in things.

She couldn’t do it. Just last week Fitz had called and said Adam would be in town for a few hours and could she meet him for
lunch. Inside she’d bristled at the cool secondhand invitation, but she’d gone. Over a crab salad and iced tea in his hotel
dining room, they’d discussed politics and the weather like two strangers. He’d looked tan and fit, busy and happy, heartbreakingly
wonderful. In the lobby he’d kissed her lightly and said he hoped they could spend more time together after the first of the
year.

Over. It was over. It probably had been for weeks, but she apparently needed a ton of bricks to fall on her head before she
got the message. While morally she felt obligated to tell him she was carrying his child, after that dreadful luncheon, how
could she? Adam was an honorable man and would probably offer to marry her. And they’d both be condemned to a hideous marriage,
him feeling trapped, her loving without being loved in return, the child growing up miserable.

No! She couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to her baby. Adam was not even remotely considering marriage. She would be the proverbial
albatross, a thought that made her cringe.

So what exactly were her alternatives? Abortion? She’d always felt women should have that choice. It was legal now, but it
wasn’t a decision she could live with herself.

For a fleeting moment last week, already suspecting the worst, she’d almost blurted out the probability to her mother on a
visit to La Jolla. But as luck would have it, Katherine had just been informed that Nancy had been in an auto accident in
Colorado, totaling her car while driving drunk along a snowy road. Her sister hadn’t been hurt, thank goodness, but she’d
landed in jail, and her parents were again embarrassed and furious at having to bail her out.

How could Liz have laid her startling news on them at such a time?
Two
daughters, both old enough to know better, in trouble on the same day? Her father would have had a stroke, her mother a migraine.

Slowly, to keep the room from spinning, Liz shifted on the couch and rearranged the cool cloth on her forehead. That left
exactly no one but herself. Thanks to her grandfather, money wasn’t a problem. Legitimacy was. Many women were having babies
out of wedlock, but not in the Townsends’ circle of friends. Of course, she’d have to tell her family eventually. But not
now.

She would manage somehow. She would have to. She would hold her head high and neither confirm nor deny any vague guesses as
to paternity. Only two people knew she and Adam had been dating. Fitz was too busy to concern himself with her, and Molly
wouldn’t say a word. She’d simply refuse to reveal the name of her baby’s father. The child would be hers and hers alone.
Other women had raised babies without help, and so could she.

A knock at the door startled her.

Slowly Liz raised her head, wondering if she’d imagined it. There it was again, the familiar knock-knock pattern that Adam
always used. She got up quickly, then steadied herself a moment as she ran a hand over her mussed hair. Wearing a bright smile
of anticipation, her heart soaring with hope, she flung open the door.

Richard Fairchild nervously shuffled his polished wingtips on the hallway carpet, feeling like a teenager on his first date
as he offered a small bouquet of violets to Liz. He’d won a big case today and felt like sharing his pleasure. The last couple
of times he’d called Liz, she’d put him off with vague excuses, so he’d impulsively decided to stop by in person.

One glimpse of her and he was sorry he had.

The bright welcoming smile slid from her face, replaced by a flash of disappointment before her good manners covered it up.

“Richard. How nice to see you.”

Swallowing his own disappointment, Richard kept his smile in place with no small effort. “I was in the neighborhood,” he lied.
This should teach him about the pitfalls of dropping in. She was obviously expecting someone else. “If you’re busy…”

Guilt had Liz stepping back and inviting him in. “No, I’m not. Please come in.” He was such a nice man. So kind and
thoughtful, a good friend. He didn’t deserve her indifference, but it seemed all she was able to give him these days

Brushing back her disheveled hair, she took the flowers he held out. “They’re lovely.” Restless, she moved to the couch. “I
was just lying down. A headache.”

“I can come back another time if…”

She waved him to a chair. “It’s all right.” From somewhere she found a friendly smile. “So what brings you into my neck of
the woods?” She buried her nose in the delicate blossoms.

“Truthfully, I hoped I could persuade you to go out. I just won the Fielding case, and I feel like celebrating.” His gray
eyes, bright with expectation, met hers.

More rotten timing. For the life of her, she couldn’t endure an evening of polite conversation tonight. “Congratulations.
That’s wonderful.” He’d probably mentioned the Fielding case to her at one time, but apparently she’d forgotten it. Frowning,
she rubbed at her temples. “Dinner sounds nice, but I’m not feeling up to par.” Which was the understatement of the year.
He looked so neat in his three-piece gray suit, his white shirt as fresh as if he’d just put it on. And she must look a sorry
sight, her silk blouse wrinkled, her hair a mess. How could he even want to ask her out? “Could I have a raincheck?”

“Certainly.” She
was
awfully pale, and he saw that her hand was trembling. Something more than a mere headache was bothering her, he was certain.
Acting like the old family friend he was, he moved to sit on the couch alongside her. “You seem troubled, Liz. Anything I
can help with?”

She felt her eyes fill and averted her head as she placed the bouquet on the end table. This loss of control was so unlike
her. Her emotions had been so close to the surface lately. Undoubtedly, the pregnancy. The reminder had her sinking deeper
into the corner of the couch. “Just having a ba d day, I guess.”

He hated seeing her unhappy. Liz was like a bright, shining
star, usually upbeat, witty, charming. She had a warm heart and a giving nature. Through the years he’d watched her grow from
a pretty teenager into a beautiful woman. His friend-of-the-family affection had turned into a love he’d denied to himself
and hidden from everyone.

He was too old for her, he’d told himself, too conservative, too set in his ways. He dated a variety of women closer to his
age, but his thoughts kept returning to Liz. He was certain she had no idea of the depth of his feelings, though he’d given
her a few indications. He lacked the courage to tell her how he felt for fear it would spoil their friendship. He wanted badly
to be more than just friends. At the very least, he could be there for her when she needed someone.

Though he felt a little awkward, Richard touched her arm. “It helps sometimes to talk things out. I’m a good listener.”

Don’t be too kind to me right now, please. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Her insides were in a turmoil, her stomach quivering,
her heartbeat erratic, as she struggled to contain her feelings. Pressing a shaky hand to her mouth, she closed her eyes,
praying her stomach wouldn’t rebel again.

His concern overrode his shyness, and Richard shifted to urge her into his arms. She stiffened at first, then a small sob
escaped from her and she allowed him to ease her closer, laying her cheek against his chest. Gently he held her, rubbing her
back lightly. “Let it out, honey.”

She hadn’t cried, not during all the long, lonely weeks since Adam’s departure. Now wrenching sobs bubbled up and erupted,
choking their way out. Her hands bunched in the material of his jacket as she clung to him, weeping through her misery.

It didn’t last very long, yet Liz felt flushed with embarrassment. What must Richard think of her? she wondered as she straightened,
reaching for a tissue from the pocket of her wool slacks. “I’m so sorry,” she said, a hitch in her voice as she wiped her
face. Blinking, she touched his damp vest. “I hope I didn’t ruin your suit.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He touched her chin, tilting it up so she was forced to look at him. “Tell me what’s upset you like this.”

Liz blew her nose, shook her head, and sat back.

“I may not be your best friend, but I’m probably your oldest friend. You can trust me. And maybe I can help.”

“No one can help. I’m pregnant.”

That was one he hadn’t considered. He sat back thoughtfully. He’d assumed, due to her frequent unavailability, that she’d
been seeing someone else. But he hadn’t guessed that their relationship had become so serious.