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on familiar things, family heirlooms like the Early American furniture and the antique coffee mill and
the grandfather clock that had been left behind when their parents died. He touched the clock, noticed
that it wasn't running at proper tempo. He opened the case, picked up the key, and wound it.
"I remember the sound of that clock chiming when I was very small," Nikki recalled, smiling.
"I always thought a little man lived inside."
' 'So did I." He put the key down and closed the case. His fingers lingered on it. "I feel alone
sometimes. Do you?"
"Yes." She joined him, her arms wrapped around her chest. "It's different when you don't have
parents. It's hard to talk to people who do."
"Have you...heard from Derrie?" he asked without looking at her.
She averted her amused eyes. "Not since just after the primary election. I guess she's getting settled."
She glanced at him. "Mr. Hewett is well-liked," she said. "Don't get overconfident, or do anything
illegal, will you?"
"I haven't." He sounded insulted.
She sighed. "Clay, you're walking right on the edge. Don't you know it?" "I have to win."
"Why?" she asked bluntly. "Why do you have to win?"
He hesitated. Now that she was putting it in those terms, into words, he wasn't real y sure.
The campaign had been important to him, of course, but only in the past two or three months had it
become the most important thing in his life. He stared at her.
"Well, because I want to go back to Washington, I suppose," he began. "I have programs I haven't
been able to implement, unfinished projects to work on..."
"You weren't like this until John Haralson came down and started working for you."
"Mosby suggested it. Haralson has always worked well for him."
"Mosby walks around in a fog," she said. "He doesn't want to know how things are done, just that they
get done. He's very naive in some ways, and altogether too trusting."
"You aren't still...?"
She laughed gently. "Still grieving for him? Oh, no. I have scars, but I gave up hope long ago. Mosby
can't help it, can he?"
"No." He looked at his shoes. "He's never been found out. That's the most amazing thing of all. He
pretends to like women, then he pretends to like men. He's managed to keep anyone from finding out."
"How, do you suppose?" she asked quietly. "I mean, how would he keep someone from noticing, in
bed..."
"He kept you from noticing, didn't he? You're a babe in the woods, sis," he said without malice. "It's
just as well that you are. How about a movie?"
She shook her head. "I'm tired. Washington wrung me out."
He dug in his pocket for his keys. "Bett's still there, on business again." He hesitated. "I might go and
see Derrie."
"That would be interesting."
He laughed unamusedly. "Yes. I guess it will." He started out, then paused and looked back at Nikki.
She looked fragile these days. "When you had pneumonia, was it real y Chad who looked after you?"
She hesitated.
"You'd better tell me. I see him occasionally."
"No," she confessed quietly. "It was Kane. It was so far gone that I could barely remember Morse
Code. He knew immediately that it must be me. He came and got me..I don't remember much except
that I came to in an oxygen tent."
He stared at her, realizing how dangerously ill
she must have been. Kane had saved her life. She hadn't said anything, but she must have bitterly
resented the way Clayton had treated Lombard in the press. She owed her life to him.
Clayton felt guilty, and that made him angry. He didn't want to be beholden to his worst enemy.
That reporter from the Lombard tabloid was still in Charleston and snooping around, and Haralson
was getting pretty nervous. Too many undercurrents were at work here, he thought.
"I need to win the election. I can't have the Lombard's digging into our pasts."
"Clay, if they published everything they know, they still wouldn't have a story," she said quietly. "It's
Haralson's head that would roll. Mosby is a victim. It would hurt him if things came out, but perhaps
not as much as you think. He's hardly a drinking, lecherous playboy."
"Not at all."
"Haralson is keeping you on a very short fuse," she said bluntly. "He's the one who's obsessed with
winning the election. Why don't you find out why?"
He frowned. "I know why. He's trying to help me."
"Clay..."
"I'll be in later," he said, smiling easily. "Don't worry. It will be all right. So long as you keep away
from Lombard," he said firmly. "Don't
let me down, Nikki, please? No fraternizing with the enemy, regardless of what you owe him."
"All right."
She sounded subdued, but he trusted her. He winked lazily and left the house. Paying Derrie a visit
had been on his mind for a long time. It wouldn't hurt to see how she was faring. Besides, he thought,
Haralson had mentioned something about Curt Morgan and having him followed. If Morgan was doing
anything suspicious, perhaps he could get Derrie to let it slip.
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