The President's Daughter by Mariah Stewart Page A

shirt of navy blue, white, and brown, a navy cardigan, and navy slacks, Miles Kendall bore no resemblance to the man who, once upon a time, had been so close to the most powerful man in the world.
    “Mr. Kendall,” Simon said, and the blue eyes blinked.
    Simon leaned a bit closer. “Hello, Mr. Kendall.”
    “Hello,” the old man acknowledged him with a nod.
    “Mind if I join you, Mr. Kendall?”
    The old man smiled and nodded.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
    “Do you have gum?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Do you have gum?” The old man worked his jaws as if chewing.
    “You mean, chewing gum?”
    “That’s right. Got any?”
    “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I’m sorry, Mr.—”
    “How ’bout licorice, got any licorice?”
    “Ahh, no, I—”
    “What have you got?” The old man appeared perturbed.
    “I . . . well, let’s see . . . I . . .” Simon searched his pockets. In the inside pocket of his jacket he found a small forgotten mint wrapped in green metallic paper. “Seems the only thing I have is a mint, and God knows how old—”
    Kendall reached out and took it with hands that trembled. He brought it to his lips and Simon realized that he planned on biting into it, paper and all.
    “Wait! The wrapper . . .” Simon reached for the mint.
    “It’s mine. You said I could have it. You can’t take it back now.” Kendall’s hands disappeared behind his back as he sought to protect his prize.
    “It
is
yours. And you’re welcome to it. But you have to take the paper off before you can eat it. Here, bring it here.” Simon gestured for Kendall to bring his hands forward. With a sigh of suspicious resignation, Kendall complied.
    Simon unwrapped the mint and handed it back to the old man, who popped it into his mouth before Simon could change his mind and possibly eat the mint himself.
    “How was it?” Simon asked when Kendall had ceased chewing.
    “Small.” Kendall frowned. “Got any more?”
    “No, I’m sorry. That was the only one.”
    Kendall grunted his displeasure.
    “If you like, I’ll come back another time and bring you more.”
    “Bigger one?”
    “If you like.”
    “Okay.”
    “Tomorrow maybe,” Simon told him.
    “Okay.”
    Kendall began to rock slowly in his chair, his eyes drifting toward the window and beyond. What, Simon wondered, did he see there?
    “What did you do today, Mr. Kendall?” Simon asked.
    “Went sailing,” Kendall replied, his eyes never turning from the window.
    “Who did you go with?”
    “Jamey and Dan.”
    “Where did you sail?”
    “In the bay, of course.” Kendall turned and looked at Simon as if the question was a stupid one.
    “Did Graham go with you?” Simon thought he’d throw the name out and see what happened.
    Kendall shook his head.
    “Doesn’t he sail?” Simon asked.
    “Doesn’t who sail?”
    “Graham.”
    “Of course Graham sails.” Kendall gave him that look again.
Stupid
question. “Everyone sails.”
    “Why didn’t he go with you this morning?”
    “Because he’s with Tommy.”
    “Tommy? You mean his brother, Thomas?”
    “No one calls him Thomas,” Kendall advised him.
    “Where were they, Graham and Tommy, do you remember?”
    Kendall gave Simon a withering look. “Of course I remember. I told you, it was this morning.”
    “Sorry, I forgot,” Simon apologized. “Where were they, this morning?”
    “Getting ready for Tommy’s party.”
    “What party is that?”
    “Graduation.”
    “High school?”
    “Sure.” Kendall nodded.
    “Where does Tommy go to school?”
    “Choate. We all go to Choate.”
    “So today is Tommy’s graduation from Choate.”
    “Yesterday was graduation. Today is the party.”
    “Where’s he going next year, do you know?”
    “Of course I do.” The look of annoyance crossed the old man’s face again. “He’s going to Brown. Don’t you know anything?”
    “I guess not.”
    “We’re all going to go to Brown,” Kendall told him. “Me, Graham, Steven . .