The President's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

room window and looked out toward the former Aldrich farm, which Dina had purchased the year before primarily for its acreage. The lights were on in the kitchen windows of the old yellow farmhouse where her assistant, Polly Valentine, was making dinner for her daughter, Erin.
    That same old yellow farmhouse that Dina had purchased with an eye toward living in herself.
    That had been her original plan. The fates, it would seem, had something else in mind.
    When Dina had started looking for a property from which to run her business, the only suitable place available had been the seven acres with the carriage house in which she now lived. At one time there had been a farmhouse, but that had been burned to the ground by vagrants years earlier and since the owners, who lived in town, rented out their fields to a neighbor, the house had never been rebuilt. With money from a trust fund, Dina had purchased the seven acres with an eye toward eventually buying the adjacent ten-acre property when it came up for sale. Three years later, it had, and she’d successfully bid to purchase it from the previous owners’ estate. However, squabbles within the sellers’ family had held up the sale for almost eleven months. By the time the sale had been finalized, Dina had already turned the carriage house into comfortable living quarters and was just too busy to take on the restoration of the aging farmhouse.
    It was just about that time that Jude had come across Polly Valentine and had suggested that Dina meet the fragile young woman with the sad past.
    Polly, a refugee from a bad marriage, had taken a well-aimed swing at her abusive ex-husband with a baseball bat as he attempted to sneak into her apartment after repeatedly threatening harm to her and her child. Unable to make bail, she’d spent five months in prison, awaiting trial for assault. Though she’d been acquitted, she’d lost almost half a year out of her life, along with her job at a flower shop, her self-respect, and, most important, her nine-year-old daughter, Erin. Jude, a volunteer teacher at the county prison, had met Polly there and had seen something in the young woman’s eyes that had drawn her to the courtroom when Polly’s trial began. On the day Polly was acquitted, Jude waited for her outside the courthouse, and learning that Polly had no place to go, Jude had taken Polly home. It hadn’t taken much for Jude to talk her daughter into hiring Polly on at the shop and renting out the farmhouse to her. After all, Dina needed help, Polly needed a job and a home, and the old farmhouse needed painting. It was a given that Dina, already living comfortably in her carriage house, would never find the time to do it.
    It was the best decision Dina had ever made. Polly was a natural with flowers, and she had become a huge asset to the business. She was also a good friend.
    The water started to boil, and Dina unceremoniously dumped the pasta into the pot. A second, smaller pot of marinara sauce began to simmer as Dina went into her small office at the end of the hall and took a yellow file from the desk. She cleared a space at the table, then returned to the kitchen, the file under her arm, and, standing up, ate the leftover salad from lunch. The timer went off on the pasta, and she drained it absently, her mind on the yellow folder and the work order within. She prepared a plate, then headed back to the dining room, where she ate with her left hand while her right hand played with the sketches from the folder, landscaping plans for another of the new houses being built out along the river. This one was a beautifully designed redbrick Federal-style house from its roof to its windows.
    And Mrs. Fisher, the owner, was insisting on what she termed a “wild English country garden.” Despite Dina’s gentle suggestion that perhaps something slightly more structured might be more appropriate for this particular home and property, Mrs. Fisher would not be shaken from her vision of