The Daughter. BEVERLY BARTON

basis. Over the years, he’d had several mistresses, some lasting for years. Currently he had two. One was here in Huntsville, less than two hours from home, but still far enough away that his comings and goings went unnoticed. He’d met Sierra Camp at a campaign rally the first time he’d run for senator. She was a childless divorcée in her early forties who wasn’t looking for a husband. Sierra was an independent woman who required nothing in the way of financial support from him. They got together occasionally, whenever he came home to Alabama.

      His DC mistress was another matter altogether. He provided Cheri with a car and an apartment. He visited her regularly, twice a week when he was in Washington, and she gave him whatever his heart desired. She was young – younger than his own daughter – and wild and fun. And sometimes she wore him out, made him feel old. If she didn’t give the best damn blow jobs he’d ever had, he would have already traded her in for an older model. Someone smarter and classier. Someone more like Sierra.

      Webb dressed hurriedly but took time to make sure his tie was straight and his hair was neatly combed. He prided himself on his thick mane of salt-and-pepper hair.

      When he emerged from the bathroom, Sierra, who had donned a short black silk robe, met him with open arms.

      ‘Give me a goodbye kiss,’ she said.

      Webb wrapped his arms around her waist, then dropped his hands to cup her buttocks. She laughed. He covered her lips with his and, when she sighed, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Then he ended the heated kiss quickly, swatted her behind and nodded toward the door.

      ‘Walk me out,’ he suggested.

      She laced her arm through his and went with him down the hall, through her kitchen and to the back door. He always parked in her garage, came in through the back door and exited the same way.

      ‘Any chance you’ll make it back up this way next week?’ Sierra asked as she ran her hand down the front of his shirt, pausing at his belt buckle.

      ‘I don’t know if I’ll still be in Alabama,’ he told her. ‘I’ll give you a call in a few days when I know my plans.’

      ‘You do that. And if I’m free, we’ll make some plans of our own.’

      Webb nodded, then went into the garage, got in his Mercedes and waited for her to hit the door opener. He took his sunglasses from where he’d stuck them behind the sun visor and slipped them on. He gave himself a quick inspection glance in the inside rearview mirror and smiled at his reflection.

      ‘You should feel guilty, you horny old bastard,’ he said aloud. ‘What if Ella ever found out about your affairs? What would your daughter think of you then?’

      Ella had been the joy of his life since the moment he and Carolyn had adopted her. She’d been two weeks old. He’d taken one look at her and immediately fallen in love. He had never loved anyone the way he loved his little girl. Ella idolized him and, by God, he wanted it to stay that way. He kept his affairs out of town, not only to protect his wife from ugly rumors, but to hide the truth about his less-than-perfect marriage from his daughter.

      When the garage door lifted, Webb waved goodbye to Sierra, put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Checking his watch, he groaned. He’d be cutting it close to get home in time to shower, shave and change clothes before Carolyn’s little family dinner party tonight. He’d have to think of some excuse for why he’d been delayed in Huntsville. It didn’t matter how feeble the excuse; Carolyn never questioned his explanations. He figured she suspected the truth but preferred to look the other way and pretend they actually had a good marriage. That was what Ella believed. That her parents adored each other. Perpetuating that lie was as much his fault as Carolyn’s. He should have ended their marriage years ago. But it was too late now. Divorce would ruin his political career, and it would break Ella’s heart. He didn’t dare risk doing either. Other than Ella, his career was all he had.

      As usual, Carolyn Porter’s dinner party was a huge success. From Bessie’s delicious meal to Carolyn’s sparkling personality, every event in the Porter home seemed to come off without a hitch. Even Webb’s late arrival hadn’t seemed to disturb his wife in the least. It never ceased to amaze Ella how kind and considerate of each other her parents were. She envied them their abiding love. She hoped that one day she would share that kind of commitment with a man. Being a woman, she recognized the look of love in her mother’s eyes whenever her father came into a room. And she couldn’t imagine a man more attentive to his wife than her father.

      When Dan reached between them on the Duncan Phyfe sofa and slipped her hand into his, Ella tensed, but as he gazed at her adoringly, she managed to smile at him. She’d been dating Dan Gilmore on and off for nearly a year now. Friends and acquaintances were making bets on just when the two would tie the knot. She liked Dan and enjoyed his company, but she simply couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Actually, she couldn’t imagine the two of them ever making love. Dan wanted her, and he’d made it perfectly clear that he was more than ready for a sexual relationship. She’d been putting him off for months now, but how much longer could she expect him to wait?

      ‘I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly lovely meal, so I didn’t bring up the subject while we were eating,’ Jeff Henry Carlisle said, ‘but it’s a subject that needs discussing.’

      Ella glanced at her uncle, a small, dapper man with huge blue eyes and a round, cherubic face. His thinning brown hair and neatly groomed mustache were edged with gray. Although Aunt Cybil’s husband could on occasion be a pompous jackass, she loved him dearly and overlooked his many faults. He’d been like a second father to her all her life. Growing up, she’d spent as much time next door at Uncle Jeff Henry and Aunt Cybil’s as she had at home. She thought it tragic that they didn’t have any children, considering the way they both doted on her.

      ‘Whatever are you talking about, brother?’ Carolyn asked.

      Jeff Henry cringed, but Carolyn didn’t seem to notice. Ella wondered how it was possible that her mother seemed totally unaware that her brother-in-law despised her using the affectionate term brother when she spoke to him. Even a blind person could sense how utterly besotted Jeff Henry was with his sister-in-law. When she’d been sixteen, Ella had realized that her uncle was in love with her mother, and she had thought his affection for her mother a tragic thing for him – and for Aunt Cybil.

      ‘I’m referring to the fact that Reed Conway was released from prison today,’ Jeff Henry said.

      All the color drained from Carolyn’s face. Ella started to rise and go to her mother, but before she did, her father, who sat in the brocade armchair beside Carolyn’s wheelchair, reached over and clasped his wife’s hand.

      ‘Are you all right, my dear?’ Webb asked.

      ‘Yes, I’m quite all right.’ Carolyn brought Webb’s hand to her mouth, kissed him tenderly and held his hand to her side. ‘I already knew about Reed’s parole, but I’d almost forgotten that he was being released today. I’m sure Judy is very happy to have her son home with her after all these years.’

      ‘Of course she’s ecstatic about his release,’ Jeff Henry said. ‘But I am not the least bit pleased that a convicted murderer is going to be living in our peaceful little town. I think they should have thrown away the key when they locked that good-for-nothing boy up. That’s what’s wrong with this country. Murderers being set free. Crime rates rising. If I were running things I’d—’

      ‘Stuff it, will you?’ Cybil Carlisle’s voice held a sharp edge as she chastised her husband. ‘We all know your views on what you’d do if you were God. You’d put us all back into the mid-nineteenth century. You’d restore slavery, wife beating and—’

      ‘Cybil, must you be so unkind?’ Carolyn’s silvery-gray eyes glared at her sister.

      ‘I’ve never laid a hand on you,’ Jeff Henry said, his face suffusing with color. ‘And Lord knows I’ve had reason to.’

      ‘This is neither the time nor the place for the two of you to air your differences.’