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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Avery slid on a pair of sunglasses.

"I think it would be better not to wear them," Eddy told her. ''We don't want it to look like we're hiding something unsightly.''

''All right.'' She removed the sunglasses and pocketed them in the raw silk jacket,  which matched her pleated trousers. "Do I look okay?" she nervously asked Tate and Eddy.

Eddy gave her a thumbs-up sign. "Smashing."

"Lousy pun," Tate remarked with a grin.

Avery ran her hand over the short hair at the back of her skull. "Does my hair ... ?"

"Very chic," Eddy said.  Then he clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "Well, we've kept the baited hounds at bay long enough. Let's go."

Together, the three of them left her room for the last time and walked down the hallway toward the lobby. Goodbyes to the staff had already been said, but good luck wishes were called out to them as they passed the nurses' station. "A limo?" Avery asked when they reached the tinted glass facade of the building. The horde of reporters couldn't yet see them, but she could see outside. A black Cadillac limousine was parked at the curb with a uniformed chauffeur standing by.

"So both of us would be free to protect you," Eddy explained.

"From what?"

"The crush. The driver's already stowed your things in the trunk. Go to the mike, say your piece, politely decline to field any questions, then head for the car."

He looked at her a moment, as though wanting to make certain his instructions had sunk in, then turned to Tate. "You can take a couple of questions if you want to. Gauge how friendly they are. As long as it's comfortable, milk it for all it's worth. If it gets sticky, use Carole as your excuse to cut it short. Ready?''

He went ahead to open the door. Avery looked up at Tate. "How do you abide his bossiness?"

"That's what he's being paid for."

She made a mental note not to criticize Eddy. In Tate's estimation, his campaign manager was above reproach.

Eddy was holding the door for them. Tate encircled her elbow and nudged her forward. The reporters and photographers had been a clamoring, squirming mass moments before. Now an expectant hush fell over them as they waited for the senatorial candidate's wife to emerge after months of seclusion.

Avery cleared the doorway and moved to the microphone as Eddy had instructed her to. She looked like Carole Rutledge. She knew that. It was remarkable to her that the charade hadn't been detected by those closest to Carole, even her husband. Of course, none had reason to doubt that she was who she was supposed to be. They weren't looking for an impostor, and therefore, they didn't see one.

But as she approached the microphone, Avery was afraid that strangers might discern what intimates hadn't. Someone might rise above the crowd, aim an accusatory finger at her, and shout, "Impostor!"

Therefore, the spontaneous burst of applause astonished her. It took her, Tate, and even Eddy, who was always composed, by complete surprise. Her footsteps faltered. She glanced up at Tate with uncertainty. He smiled that dazzling, all-American hero smile at her and it was worth all the pain and anguish she had suffered since the crash. It boosted her confidence tremendously.

She graciously signaled for the applause to cease. As it tapered off, she said a timid thank-you. Then, clearing her throat, giving a slight toss of her head, and moistening her lips with her tongue, she began reciting her brief, prepared speech.

"Thank you, ladies and gentleman, for being here to welcome me back after my long hospitalization. I wish to publicly extend my sympathy to those who lost loved ones in the dreadful crash of AireAmerica Flight 398. It's still incredible to me that my daughter and I survived such a tragic and costly accident. I probably wouldn't have, had it not been for the constant support and encouragement of my husband."