The President's Daughter by Mariah Stewart Read Free Book Online Page A

her arm.
    “Come sit on the sofa with me and I’ll show you.” She took a seat and patted the cushion next to her. She opened the book and held it on her lap.
    “See here,” she said as Simon sat where she’d indicated. “Here’s one of my old photo albums. Here’s Barbra Streisand. And Paul Newman. An astronaut, I can’t recall which one. Muhammad Ali . . .”
    Sarah’s index finger touched one photo after another.
    “You’re not in any of these,” Simon noted.
    “That’s because I took them all.”
    “That was quite an opportunity for a teenager.”
    “You’re telling me.”
    “It must have been fun,” Simon murmured as she turned page after page of pictures of the rich and famous and important.
    “Playing amateur photographer?”
    “Being the daughter of the President of the United States.”
    “Most fun I ever had,” Sarah said softly as she returned the album to its place on the shelf and lifted another. “I loved being First Daughter every bit as much as my mother loved being First Lady.”
    “Even though you preferred to live at boarding school?”
    “One had nothing to do with the other.” Her words were crisp, not quite a snap, but it was, Simon realized, the first bit of real emotion she’d shown since he had arrived.
    “Do you have pictures from your trips abroad?” he asked, wondering what had caused the momentary pique.
    Sarah looked over her shoulder and paused, then turned back to the shelves, tapping her fingers on the nearest shelf as if hunting for something in particular. Finally, she pulled out an album that looked almost identical to the first.
    “I must have left that album at my mother’s.” She smiled warmly, the moment of tension having passed. “But this one has mostly pictures of my dad.”
    She eased back onto the sofa.
    “See this one?” She turned the book toward Simon. “This is one of my most favorite photographs ever.”
    “Who is the woman with your father?” Simon peered at the white-haired woman who stood smiling in the embrace of Graham Hayward in what was obviously the Oval Office.
    “That’s Mrs. Carlyle, Dad’s secretary. He loved this picture so much that he had it enlarged and framed and gave it to her when he left office. She was such a great lady.” Sarah turned the pages, pausing to point out this dignitary or that celebrity she’d caught on camera so long ago.
    “Now, is that Miles Kendall?” Simon turned the album into the light to get a better look.
    “Yes. He was my dad’s Chief of Staff.” Sarah nodded. “And his best friend.”
    “I understand he’s been ill.”
    “Yes. It’s such a shame, really. He and Dad were best friends forever. And he was almost like a second father to me. Whenever my parents were out of town, he was the one I had to answer to. He stood in for my dad so many times.” Sarah’s smile was nostalgic. “He even taught me how to drive. It’s just heartbreaking, the way . . . well, the way he is now.”
    “You visit him, then?”
    “No. I’m ashamed to say it, but no, I don’t. The last time I saw Miles was right after they moved him to this new home. We all went together—Mom, Gray and Jen, and I. It was clear that the man we knew and loved was . . . well, just not there anymore. He didn’t recognize any of us, and never spoke a word while we were there. It was very upsetting. Not very noble of me, but I just haven’t been able to face going back.”
    “Do you happen to know Kendall’s nephew, the one who made the arrangements with the home?”
    “It was Dan . . .” Sarah pursed her lips. “Dan . . . I can’t think of his last name. My brother might know, though.”
    “I’ll be seeing him soon, so I’ll make a note to myself to ask.”
    “You aren’t thinking about going to see Miles, are you?” Sarah’s eyes widened slightly.
    “Yes. After all, he was the confidant of a President.”
    “I doubt that he remembers anything from that time, Simon. It’s terribly sad, but I’m