The Warner house was a magnificently preserved house of Dutch origin, overlooking the river at Croton-on-Hudson, set on a large estate of rolling green acres. Jennifer drove up the driveway to the imposing front entrance. She rang the bell and a moment later the door was opened by an attractive woman in her middle thirties. The last thing Jennifer had expected was this shy southern woman who took her hand, gave her a warm smile and said, “I’m Mary Beth. Adam didn’t do you justice. Please come in.”
Adam’s wife was wearing a beige wool skirt that was softly full, and a silk blouse opened just enough to reveal a mature but still lovely breast. Her beige-blond hair was worn long and slightly curling about her face, and was flattering to her blue eyes. The pearls around her neck could never be mistaken as cultured. There was an air of old-world dignity about Mary Beth Warner.
The interior of the house was lovely, with wide, spacious rooms filled with antiques and beautiful paintings.
A butler served tea in the drawing room from a Georgian silver tea service.
When he had left the room, Mary Beth said, “I’m sure you must love Adam very much.”
Jennifer said awkwardly, “I want you to know, Mrs. Warner, that neither of us planned—”
Mary Beth Warner put a hand on Jennifer’s arm. “You don’t have to tell me that. I don’t know whether Adam told you, but our marriage has turned into a marriage of politeness. Adam and I have known each other since we were children. I think I fell in love with Adam the first time I saw him. We went to the same parties and had the same friends, and I suppose it was inevitable that one day we would get married. Don’t misunderstand. I still adore Adam and I’m sure he adores me. But people do change, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
Jennifer looked at Mary Beth and she was filled with a deep feeling of gratitude. What could have been an ugly and sordid scene had turned into something friendly and wonderful. Adam had been right. Mary Beth was a lovely lady.
“I’m very grateful to you,” Jennifer said.
“And I’m grateful to you,” Mary Beth confided. She smiled shyly and said, “You see, I’m very much in love, too. I was going to get the divorce immediately but I thought, for Adam’s sake, we’d best wait until after the election.”
Jennifer had been so busy with her own emotions that she had forgotten about the election.
Mary Beth went on: “Everyone seems sure that Adam is going to be our next senator, and a divorce now would gravely hurt his chances. It’s only six months away, so I decided it would be better for him if I delayed it.” She looked at Jennifer. “But forgive me—is that agreeable with you?”
“Of course it is,” Jennifer said.
She would have to completely readjust her thinking. Her future would now be tied to Adam. If he became senator, she would live with him in Washington, D.C. It would mean giving up her law practice here, but that did not matter. Nothing mattered except that they could be together.
Jennifer said, “Adam will make a wonderful senator.”
Mary Beth raised her head and smiled. “My dear, one day Adam Warner is going to make a wonderful President.”
The telephone was ringing when Jennifer arrived back at the apartment. It was Adam. “How did you get along with Mary Beth?”
“Adam, she was wonderful!”
“She said the same thing about you.”
“You read about old southern charm, but you don’t come across it very often. Mary Beth has it. She’s quite a lady.”
“So are you, darling. Where would you like to be married?”
Jennifer said, “Times Square, for all I care. But I think we should wait, Adam.”
“Wait for what?”
“Until after the election. Your career is important. A divorce could hurt you right now.”
“My private life is—”
“—going to become your public life. We mustn’t do anything that might spoil your chances. We can wait six months.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“I don’t either, darling.” Jennifer smiled. “We won’t really be waiting, will we?”
21
Jennifer and Adam had lunch together almost every day, and once or twice a week Adam spent the night at their apartment. They had to be more discreet than ever, for Adam’s campaign had actively begun, and he was becoming a nationally prominent figure. He gave speeches at political rallies and fund-raising dinners, and his opinions on national issues were quoted more and more frequently in the press.
Adam and Stewart Needham were having their ritual morning tea.
“Saw you on the Today show this morning,” Needham said. “Fine job, Adam. You got every single point across. I understand they’ve invited you back again.”
“Stewart, I hate doing those shows. I feel like some goddamned actor up there, performing.”
Stewart nodded, unperturbed. “That’s what politicians are, Adam—actors. Playing a part, being what the public wants them to be. Hell, if politicians acted like themselves in public—what expression do the kids use?—letting it all hang out?—this country’d be a damned monarchy.”
“I don’t like the fact that running for public office has become a personality contest.”
Stewart Needham smiled. “Be grateful you’ve got the personality, my boy. Your ratings in the polls keep going up every week.” He stopped to pour more tea. “Believe me, this is only the beginning. First the Senate, then the number one target. Nothing can stop you.” He paused to take a sip of his tea. “Unless you do something foolish, that is.”