Above All, Honor

Chapter Thirteen

Shortly after 5 a.m. the next morning, Normani pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and followed the scent of coffee. She found Helen seated at the large scarred wooden table, sipping the steaming brew and working on a crossword puzzle. Helen smiled a greeting and gestured toward the coffeepot.

"Thanks," Normani grunted, reaching for a cup. Moving slowly, she sat beside Helen at the table.

Helen glanced at her, then asked, "Where are your friends?"

Normani grimaced, blowing across the top of the liquid to cool it. "I'm sure there's someone right outside the back door, and another one in the dining room."

"Doesn't seem like much fun," Helen remarked.

Normani appraised her cautiously. She saw no hint of anything other than open frankness in her face. She allowed herself a brief smile. "Well, I could lie and say I'm used to it. In fact, I am used to it, but I've never learned to ignore it. It bothers me."

"I can imagine. On the other hand, I guess it is impossible to let you run around by yourself."

Normani laughed. "Apparently so."

Helen leaned back, scrutinizing the striking young woman across from her. This was not the sophisticated, perfectly turned out image she was used to seeing on the television and in magazine articles. This woman was naturally beautiful, with no makeup, untamed hair, faded jeans, and a baggy sweatshirt that did little to hide the suggestive swell of her breasts. Helen would never have recognized her as the President's daughter. But she would not have overlooked her allure either.

"May I ask how you came to stay here?" Helen asked.

"Friends of mine, Sarah Hughes Whitley and Anne Perry, have stayed here."

Helen raised an eyebrow slightly, remembering the attractive couple from earlier in the season. "Two of my most favorite guests," she responded.

Normani met her gaze evenly, and was pleased to see that the other woman did not avert her eyes. "I'm very fond of them."

"As am I," Helen responded. "You needn't be concerned about my discretion, Miss Hamilton. My only interest is in providing my guests with good skiing and privacy. My hope is that you have seven days of excellent running. I couldn't care less about your personal life."

Normani laughed. "Well, you may be the only person in the United States for whom that's true."

Helen laughed with her. "I think you may be right."

...

An hour later, Megan walked into the lounge and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the large urn which stood always ready on the sideboard. She turned, sipping gratefully at the hot liquid, and met the eyes of Helen Craig. Helen stood regarding her silently, a slight smile on her face. Megan nodded and settled into one of the large leather chairs before the fireplace. After a moment, Helen joined her with her own coffee.

"She's already out on the slopes," Helen commented.

"Yes, I know."

"I suppose you do," Helen said softly. "It must be very difficult for her."

Megan had been doing her job too many years to fall into the trap of casual conversation with a stranger. Especially a conversation about someone as high-profile as the President's daughter. However, there was something so genuine about the woman beside her, she felt strangely at ease. "I imagine it is."

Helen might not have any experience with the interpersonal relationships between a woman like Normani and those who guarded her, but she had plenty of experience with the attractions of one woman for another. She had had the opportunity to observe the reserved Secret Service Agent and the First Daughter together the previous night at dinner, and later as they moved about each other in an uneasy truce in the lounge. Normani Hamilton had scarcely taken her eyes off the tall, sculpted security chief, and it seemed that Normani's best friend Donna was captivated as well. The object of their attention, however, had revealed little unless you were watching her. And Helen had been watching her closely.