Sleeping Beauty (32 page)

“Wait a minute,” he said again.

Over the years the country had elected presidents with mistresses, presidents with illegitimate kids
 . . .
There were ways around anything in the past
.

He had been so sure of that.

It had to be stopped. It was bad enough when it was just Dora's lawsuit; he'd known how dangerous that could be and he'd absolutely forbidden her to go on with it. But now it was far worse. Now menace beat above him, like a great bird. Anne. Dora's lawyer. Dora's adviser. Dora's confidante. A sour, vengeful woman worming her way into his daughter's life, worming her way into the family to turn them against him. And then—
when?
—talking to the press. To turn the world against him.

She had to be stopped. She and Dora both had to be stopped. But obviously Dora knew nothing. Not yet. Vince stopped pacing and concentrated on making his voice resonant and warm. “Dora, we've talked about this. And I know you understood everything I said, and a lot that I didn't; I've never had to spell everything out for you. You can't go to court, certainly not with this kind of lawsuit; we're in the public eye—”

“You're
in the public eye; I'm invisible.”

“You're too smart to say things like that. You know I have enemies just waiting for something like this.
My
daughter, in court, in a palimony suit.” He gave a warm, confiding chuckle. “That's quite a combination. Sex and money, and a father in politics. You know the press would eat it up. They wouldn't miss a chance to make snide innuendos about my fitness to be a senator. Dora, listen to me.
This town is full of enemies! The whole country is full of them!
They'd get the newspapers to write editorials on family environment, children's upbringing,
morals
, for Christ's sake! They'd blame me for everything you've done; they'd have a ball. And I've got an election coming up next year!”

“You're awfully excited about this,” Dora said. “A lot
more than you were a couple of weeks ago. I mean, you weren't exactly happy about my suing Josh, but now you're really wild. What did I miss?”

He took a breath. “I'm worried, and I'm trying to make you understand. You're usually more concerned about me, Dora, more sensitive to what I'm up against here. I'm disappointed in you. Why is this so important to you that you'd expose me to my enemies? It can't be notoriety; you've never cared about that. Is it money? I'll give you whatever you think you'll get from him. Look, fire this lawyer, forget the whole thing. Come to Washington. I'll be entertaining nonstop, starting in September, and there's no one I'd rather have as my hostess than my lovely daughter. You'll meet some powerful men, the most powerful in the country, and I'll find the most eligible bachelors . . . it's about time you met somebody worthy of you. How about it? Will you do that for me?”

“No,” said Dora flatly. “I'm sorry, Daddy, I don't like to disappoint you, but this is something I have to do. It isn't money and it isn't notoriety; it's just something I have to do.” There was a silence. “I have to make him hurt,” she burst out. “I can't be satisfied until I do. And Anne's going to help me. She's tough and she's smart and I don't think she likes men. And that's just what I want.”

“Why is she doing this?” Vince asked after a moment.

“Why? Why not? She's a lawyer. I'm a client.”

“Why did she take you as a client?”

“She probably liked the case. Or me. What difference does it make?”

Vince walked back to his desk. He sat down and pulled a pad of paper toward him. “She's using the name Garnett?”

“That's her name. Why?”

“And her firm?”

“Engle, Saxon and Joute. Daddy, what's with you? She's a
relative;
she's your
niece
. And you still haven't told me why nobody ever talked about her. What happened? Was it really scandalous? Maybe it would make my little palimony suit look like peanuts. Come on, Daddy, what was the scandal?”

“There was no scandal.” He laid his pencil across Anne's name and law firm, written in his spiked handwriting. “I don't know why the others didn't talk about her; your mother and I didn't because she was nothing to us. We hardly knew she was gone. As I recall, she lied a lot. I don't even know exactly when she disappeared. I was busy with the company, and your mother and I were having problems, and I had more important things to do than pay attention to a psychotic teenager.”

“Psychotic?”
Dora asked.

“Well, disturbed,” Vince said carelessly. “Whatever she was, she took off one day and that was that. We were all busy with other things, and she wasn't worth the time it took to wonder where she was. She wasn't anyone you'd notice; there was no sign of her being smart or tough or whatever you seem to find so impressive. I assume that's why no one talked about her. It's odd that she showed up now, out of nowhere. Did she say what she's after?”

“I didn't ask. We only talked about me.”

Vince nodded to himself. Dora had always thought first of herself. Just like her mother. “If you see her again—”

“Of
course
I'm going to see her; she's my
lawyer.”

“You're not going to give up this whim?”

“I told you, it's more than a whim; I'm serious about it. And you haven't given me any good reason to give it up.”

“I have a chance to be president.” The words were blurted out. “That's confidential, of course, but the party's talking about it. Three years from now. And it looks damn good. Or it would, if my daughter wasn't hell-bent on this crusade.
Make him hurt
. What about making
me
hurt? That's what you're doing here.”

There was a long silence. “They really want you to be president?”

“That's what they say. And they think I can do it. Wouldn't that please you? You'd be hostess in the White House.”

“Aren't you going to get married again? You've got three years to do it.”

Bitch, Vince thought. But he liked it, too, that his daughter was so quick to understand what had to be done. She got that from him.

“I hadn't thought about it. I'd rather have you as my hostess; you're the most impressive woman I know. And you'd enjoy it, wouldn't you?”

“Of course. But Daddy, if they want you for president, a little lawsuit in California three years before the election isn't going to make a bit of difference. It might make a few people snicker now, but so what? You're so strong it won't touch you. It isn't you, anyway; it's me, and nobody cares about me. It wouldn't be fair for you to stop me for something that's so far off. I really want to do this suit, Daddy; it's all I care about right now. If you cared about me, you'd understand that.”

Vince had always known when to give up. He retreated. “Well, of course I wish you luck. I hope you win everything you want. And next time you see your lawyer, try to find out why she came back. We're all curious.”

“Sure,” said Dora absently, and Vince knew she would not ask; she was too wrapped up in her lawsuit even to remember something he asked her to do.

Fucking bastard, he cursed Josh Durant. Why couldn't he keep Dora screwed and satisfied? Vince had never liked him, from the time Dora brought him to dinner one night when Vince was visiting Los Angeles; he was too sure of himself, too guarded and smooth. Tall, arrogant son of a bitch: much taller than Vince. And clever: he hadn't given anything away about himself. Vince had left the restaurant knowing little more than he had when they met. He'd told Dora that night that the bastard wasn't trustworthy; she wouldn't be able to bend him an inch. She hadn't believed him.

He remained at his desk a long time after Dora said good-bye.
President Vincent Chatham of the United States of America. We have got one great time ahead of us, guaranteed
.

He glanced down and read what he had written.
Anne Garnett
. He saw her in his mind as she had looked at Ethan's funeral: black hair, black hat, black suit, a pale, stunning
face, her head high: a regal look. He remembered the girl she had been: thin, slouching, her black hair uncombed, her eyes wide and blank when she looked at him.

He had not thought about her for twenty-four years. And now she had come back, to destroy him.

Unless he destroyed her first.

He reached for the telephone, and called Ray Beloit.

A
nne met Dora in the noisy, teeming hallway outside the courtroom at a little before ten o'clock in the morning.
“Very
good,” said Dora with a swift survey of Anne's figure, her eyes calculating the price of the pale gray suit and white silk blouse, the antique silver lapel watch, the soft leather briefcase. “I like the suit; is it Valentino?”

“No,” Anne said. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “You'll stand next to me and you'll keep quiet. You won't forget?”

“I remember everything you tell me,” Dora said earnestly. She flattened herself against the wall as the crowd surged against them. A huge man in an undershirt lunged past, pulling on the hand of a short woman wearing a fringed skirt. A young girl in jeans, pushing a stroller with a crying baby, rushed through the crowd. A woman adjusted a man's tie. A couple kissed in a corner. Lawyers in dark business suits stood in the midst of plaintiffs, defendants, and uniformed guards; the click of heels on the hard floor punctuated the din of shouted conversations; the August sunlight, streaming through high windows, lay in broad stripes across the gesticulating throng, raising the temperature against the laboring air-conditioning system. “This place is the pits,” Dora said. “How do you look so cool? You look like ice.”

“Just remember to keep quiet,” Anne said, and opened the door.

“I will, unless Josh starts lying.”

Anne let go of the door. “If he listens to his lawyer, he'll be quiet,” she snapped. “Dora, I'll say this one more time. We're not going into a trial; the judge is hearing motions this morning. That's all. They're going to make a motion that the judge dismiss your lawsuit as unfounded; we'll tell the judge why it shouldn't be dismissed. It shouldn't take more than half an hour; probably less. And I'll do the talking; you will not open your mouth. You'll have plenty of time to talk later on. Now come with me.”

She led the way into the courtroom, as noisy and jammed as the corridor, and pointed to an empty space at the end of one of the pewlike benches that filled the back half of the room. “When they call your name, come up front. I'll be there.”

As she turned away, a stocky, gray-haired man came to her side. He had a sad, jowly face, large ears, and bushy eyebrows, and a broad, melancholy smile. “Hello, Anne. It hasn't been so long since the last time.”

“Hello, Fritz.” She returned his smile, thinking that it was too bad that, of all the lawyers in Los Angeles, Josh Durant had chosen the one she liked the best. She might have thought better of him for it, but his choosing Fritz didn't change the person he was, and what he had done to Dora.

Miller looked down at Dora, sitting at the end of the bench. “I guess Anne isn't about to introduce us. Fritz Miller, Miss Chatham.” He extended his hand. Dora looked at it without moving. “Yes, I suppose so,” he sighed, and lowered his hand. “Too bad,” he said to Anne. “Last time we came to a nice agreement, no hostilities, everybody was happy.”

“Not happy, but definitely relieved,” said Anne with another smile. “Do you see a chance for that here?”

He glanced at Dora, who was watching Anne, her face rigid. He sighed again. “It won't be a picnic.” They walked down the aisle to the low barrier that bisected the room, and Miller held open the small gate for Anne to walk through, joining the crowd of lawyers who sat at large rectangular tables or stood in groups talking. “She's not being reasonable,
you know,” Fritz said. “Josh tried; he called her a couple of times to see if they couldn't”—he caught Anne's look of surprise before she masked it—“work things out in a friendly way. He's got no ill feelings toward the lady; he'd like her to be happy; he just doesn't see why he should pay for it after he's paid so much already,”

“When a man wants out, he always thinks he's paid more than enough already,” Anne said dryly. She sat at one of the tables and opened her briefcase. “We'd love to settle this, Fritz; we're not anxious for it to go to trial. If you could come up with a fair offer—”

“All rise!” cried a piercing voice, and the judge entered the courtroom.

As cases were called and groups of people came to stand before the judge, their low voices rising and falling, Anne turned to scan the crowded benches to see if she could guess which was Josh Durant. Dora had said she had burned all her photos of him. Anne's gaze passed quickly over most of them as too young or too old, or men she could not imagine Dora weeping over. She paused briefly at a few faces, then came to a stop when she met the eyes of a man sitting in the far corner, watching her with a steady, somber look.

His face had fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth; his eyes were deep set beneath dark brows in a broad forehead, and his mouth was hard and straight. He had a square chin with a small cleft, and a prominent jawline. Not a handsome face, Anne thought, but a strong one that some women might admire. His hair was light brown, turning gray, too long in back for her taste; his shoulders were broad, and she remembered Dora listing the sports he liked. She could not see his hands but she imagined them folded loosely in his lap; he seemed relaxed, not worried, and his expression gave nothing away. Not handsome, she thought again, but he had a face that could be harsh and arrogant, and a mouth that could say savage things.