The perfect little senator’s daughter. Kerry’s lips curled in reaction and she felt a touch of disgust at her younger self.

She turned the invitation over and studied it. Going back there as the vice president of global operations of ILS wouldn’t be terrible, though she knew she wouldn’t be considered nearly as successful as her classmates who’d married into big money and raised large families. Her professional success would, however, be Thicker Than Water 5

noted and congratulated.

But going back there with Dar—dear God. Exposing their lifestyle to those people would be like rolling in a fire ant hill, and Kerry felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. When they realized she was gay, the look in her classmate’s eyes would not be anywhere near the bemused, somewhat wary acceptance they had found at Dar’s reunion. Oh no.

Even though she knew many of them would have seen the televised senate hearings where she had been outed, that would have been in the abstract. Seeing her and Dar as a couple up close and in person would be something else entirely.

Kerry wasn’t embarrassed about their relationship, but she had no intention of subjecting herself, much less Dar, to a night of half pitying, half disgusted stares and the cutting remarks of her family’s social circle.

No way.

“Ker?” Dar called from downstairs. “What do you think about a cellular pen?”

Kerry had to smile. “Nerd!” she yelled back, getting up from her desk and heading for the shower. Dar really did get way too into techno toys sometimes. Then she stopped and considered. A cellular pen? “Wait. Does it come in pink?”

THE STUDY WAS mostly wood panel, leather, and the scent of old money. The walls were lined with bookshelves stocked with frequently dusted and never read books, and one end was filled with a huge mahogany desk.

Behind the desk sat a man in his fifties, stocky and gray haired, in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled back two turns. He held a stack of papers, and studied each page carefully before he turned it over and set it on a growing pile on the desk.

The door opened and a gray haired woman entered and closed the door behind her. “Roger, the Millisons are having a dinner party next week, and the Vice President is attending. Will you be available for it?”

Roger Stuart leaned back and pondered. “Do I want to be seen with him this month? What has he done lately that I hate? Oh, hell, why not? Millison at least serves a decent meal, especially when he’s trying to suck up.”

“I’ll confirm for us, then,” Cynthia Stuart replied. She turned, left the room, and closed the door behind her.

The phone rang. Stuart picked it up and listened, then grunted. “What’s the news this time?”

The voice on the other end sounded perkier than was perhaps 6 Melissa Good normal. “Sir, we finally got that hearing you’ve been asking for, the one about ILS. They’re going to schedule it. I’m sure it’ll bring things right out into the open, just like you’ve hoped.”

Stuart hesitated, his eyes going to the stack of papers. “They put it on the listing yet?”

“No, sir, but Jayson promised me it’s just a matter of an hour or so.”

He drummed his thick, knotted fingers on the papers, making a pattering sound. “All right, listen.” He sighed. “Tell him to hold off.”

“Sir?”

“Something’s come up. Just tell him to hold off until he hears from me,” Stuart barked. “Is that understood?”

“Uh…yes, sir.” The voice sounded puzzled, but chastened.

“I’ll tell him.”

Stuart hung up and went back to the report. “God damn it!

Would you just leave it to that…” He paused and made a face. “To find something like this.” He thumped the desk. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

He crinkled the papers under his hands, their damning words in stark black against the creamy white of the quality surface on which they were printed. Idly, he flipped a page over and frowned at the typing on the back.

He leaned closer, examined it, and found nothing more interesting than a weather report, then shook his head as he turned it back over. He snorted. “Recycling. Must be a Democrat.”

He had to give the woman credit, though. The analysis was crisp, to the point, and did not beat around the bush in regards to its findings, which was something he appreciated regardless of the source. Most of the reports he had to read were full of verbose puffwords saying nothing. Reading Dar Roberts’ report was like a breath of fresh air. He could appreciate the content while despis-ing the author, couldn’t he?

Stuart sighed. But damn if it had to be her. Having had little choice, he had grudgingly come to accept Kerrison’s decision, regardless of how stupid and mindless, not to mention embarrassing, he’d considered it. Finding out his daughter thought she was gay had been a shock, but even worse—she’d shamed him by not even having the grace to keep the fact hidden and discreet.

Disgusting. Just the thought of the two of them... His lip curled.

Disgusting.

At least he knew that when it inevitably ended, the woman would make no financial gains from his daughter, and in the meantime the two of them lived in what even he considered acceptable style.


Thicker Than Water 7

There would be no Enquirer stories about Kerrison living in a shack somewhere. The reporters had learned to keep clear of her, especially since her office fended them off and she lived on that private island. At least she’d had the sense to do that much for him.

Now he had this to contend with. Stuart glared at the papers.

Roberts had picked him for a reason; he knew it. She hadn’t just dropped the documents into his lap out of patriotic fervor, that was for sure.

Had she gotten wind of the incipient investigation into the ILS contracts? Was this her way of trying to buy him off to forget about it? If it was, she was definitely, sadly mistaken. Stuart snorted softly and went on to the next page. As soon as he read through everything, he’d get that hearing right back on…

Stuart bent closer, staring at the next page. “Jesus Christ.”

THE SMALL GROUP sat in a circle, in chairs so mismatched that it looked like it was done on purpose by a designer with a decidedly twisted streak. All of the occupants were young, most in their late teens, except for the woman seated cross legged in the large overstuffed chair nearest the door.

“Okay, Barbara, what makes you think he’s got it out for you?” Kerry asked quietly, focusing her mind on the problems of these troubled youngsters, halfway between children and adults and dealing with an emerging sexuality they weren’t sure they understood. Weren’t really sure they wanted, for that matter, being different at an age where different meant outcast in so many poignant ways.

She shared her counseling duties with two other older women and found she enjoyed her time with the group. It meant having to listen to and dealing with problems vastly different from the ones she normally handled, and reminded her all over again that her own acceptance of her lifestyle had been smooth in comparison. Right now, the youngest member of the discussion group, Barbara Gonzales, had confessed that she thought her boss at Burger King had figured out she was gay and was trying to get rid of her because of it.

“I don’t know.” The slim, brown haired girl wrapped an arm around one knee. “He changed my shift, and now he makes me do all the hard stuff–like figuring out how much bread and meat to order for the next week, and making me check out the bathrooms, and stuff like that.”

“Hm.” Kerry sat back, aware of Barbara’s eyes on her. “Did you ask him why he did that?”


8 Melissa Good Barbara shrugged. “No. I just figured it was because he saw me and Sally in the freezer that one time. We were so stupid about that.”

“Hm.” Kerry imagined Alastair McLean walking into a wiring closet and finding her and Dar kissing. She suppressed a giggle.

“Is he very conservative?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Barbara nodded. “He’s all into that community stuff, you know, like Hibiscus.”

Hibiscus? Kerry blinked. “You mean Kiwanis?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Do you do a good job?” Kerry asked.

“I guess. The customers like me. I get stuff done, and I’m always on time and all that stuff.”

“Well, he could be coming down on you, but there’s another possibility,” Kerry said. “He might be trying to nudge you into a more responsible position in the restaurant.”

Barbara blinked at her, obviously never having even considered that prospect. “Huh?”

“If I were a fast food manager,” Kerry speculated, “and I had a position I needed to fill—say, an assistant manager or a shift leader—I’d find someone who was trustworthy, who was prompt and neat and got the job done, and give them a little more responsibility every day to see how they handled it.”

“You would?” Casey cocked her head, which was covered in an explosion of dark curls.

“Sure.” Kerry smiled. “Asking Barbara to do the ordering projections and supervising the cleaning of the bathrooms seems to me to be an indication that the man trusts her, and maybe wants to see if she’s ready to be promoted.” Her eyes twinkled at Barbara, who was staring open mouthed at her. “Tell you what.

Think of it that way for a week, and try to look at everything he does positively instead of negatively. See what happens.”

Barbara pushed a lock of hair behind an ear. “Wow…okay, yeah, I guess I could do that. Maybe I could, like, iron my shirts and stuff. See if he notices.” She smiled and her face lit up.