Free The President's Daughter by Mariah Stewart Page B

permission, but since asking for permission might only serve to distract Kendall, Simon let it pass. After all, no one would ever know about the tape. Simon only intended to use it in place of the notes that he would normally take on paper, and who knew that even that might serve as a distraction to the old man? The last thing Simon wanted was to run the risk of stopping the flow of memories now that Kendall apparently had some.
    “Wasn’t she lovely that night?” Kendall stopped chewing for a long minute and looked out the window, as if watching something that only his eyes could see.
    “Beautiful.” Simon leaned forward hoping to catch every word.
    “She wore that long dress of pale lavender. Matched her eyes. We danced and danced. . . .”
    “She was your lady friend?”
    “She danced like . . . well, light as a cloud. Everyone was watching us.” Kendall began to slip into the past. Simon wasn’t sure where it would take them, but he was happy to follow. “All the women, they all wanted to be her; you could tell by the way they looked at her. And all the men wished they were me. If they only knew . . .” He shook his head slowly; a sadness settled into the lines of his face.
    “She was
who,
Mr. Kendall?”
    “She could light up a room just by walking into it. And her laughter . . . just like those little silver bells on the tree.” He cocked his head slightly to the side, as if listening. “She loved to dance. And everyone wanted to dance with her. Cut right in whenever they saw a chance. But not
him
. Not that night.
She
was watching him like a hawk that night.”
    “So all the other guys were lining up to dance with your lady?” Simon wondered who
him
and
she
might have been. “That’s some feeling, isn’t it, when all your friends stare at your girl and wish she was with them?”
    “Oh, not really my girl,” Kendall said softly, the sadness deepening. “Not really. She never could see anyone but him.”
    “Your lady had her eyes on someone else?”
    “Who could blame her? He was everything.
Had
everything . . .” The tired blue eyes drifted to the window and beyond once again. “He couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t take his eyes off her. And
she
knew; if I’d suspected it before, I was pretty certain then. ‘This is dangerous,’ I told him. ‘Can’t you see that she’s watching every move you make?’ Of course, he knew that I loved her, too. Maybe he thought I just wanted her for myself.” He turned back to Simon and smiled a half smile that was etched with pain. “And of course, I did.”
    “You and a friend were in love with the same woman,” Simon said softly.
    Kendall nodded.
    “And he was married? It was dangerous because he was married and his wife was there, too?” Simon was touched that, so many years later, Kendall still felt the loss of his old love.
    Another nod.
    “I’m sorry, I don’t remember her name—”
    “Blythe.”
    “Of course, Blythe. And she came to the party with you.”
    “She always went there with me. Everyone thought she was my girl, because she always came there with me. But she was his. She was always his. Only his.”
    “Remind me again who
he
was.” His curiosity piqued, Simon leaned forward.
    Just far enough for Kendall to drop a bomb in his lap.
    “Graham,” Kendall whispered. “She was always Graham’s.”
    When his wits resurfaced, Simon asked, “Graham Hayward? The President of the United States, Graham Hayward?”
    Kendall paused, his face softening just a bit, as if suddenly amused. “She was so young. Much too young for him. Much too young for me. And yet, we both . . .”
    Kendall stopped, as if unable to speak the words.
    “Loved her.”
Mr. Morality, Graham Hayward?
    “Yes. We both loved her.”
    “And you took her out in public because he could not?”
Graham “High Road” Hayward?
    Kendall’s eyes welled up.
    “That must have been very hard for you, sir. To be with the woman you loved, knowing she loved