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HER MOTHER'S DAUGHTER by Cara Saylor Polk

HER MOTHER'S DAUGHTER

By

Pub Date: Oct. 12th, 1982
Publisher: Crown

In the low-blow tradition of The Greek Tycoon and other National Enquirer-style celebrity mock-ups: the story of a young Irish-American President's glamorous widow . . . who then married a zillionaire . . . who now has problems with her daughter. The ex-First Lady here is Dianne, who's not happy: obsessed with security after her Prezhusband Bill Connolly died of a heart attack, she married stubby, aging financier Tony Marino--but he's crass, he's a womanizer (like the late Prez), and he keeps Dianne on a pitiful monthly allowance ($45,000). So Dianne takes a lot of her frustration out on daughter Rosalind--a student at Smith College. There are dreadful ""Mummy"" phone-calls from various jet-spots with silken commands and iron whims. Far worse, Dianne sabotages (with a typical ""Mummy"" maneuver) Rosalind's promising acting career. So Rosalind--who adored her father and hates Tony--turns for solace to the broad shoulders of Colin McReady, 38, the ""strong and confident"" man who's part of her Secret Service escort. And their love will endure, more or less, while Rosalind keeps on the move, trying to scamper out from under Dianne's grasp. She helps in a D.C. political campaign for Uncle Scan (the last remaining Connolly brother, of course, and his wife has a mysterious illness). She romps in the Connolly family-complex in upper New York. She moves to London, has a nerve-wracking scrape with blackmail, is rescued by Mummy and Mummy's new beau--a hard-nosed journalist who calls her ""Lady."" (Tony, ""the bastard,"" has by now died.) Eventually Rosalind is tricked into being kidnapped by Colin's IRA-connected son, 19-year-old lan: while Mummy waits with ransom money, Rosalind and Colin nearly lose their lives. And finally, Colin ends the affair--he tells Rosalind that she ""is still looking for the father you lost""--while Dianne and Rosalind will come closer in mutual understanding. Dirty pool with a soapy gloss: handsomely costumed contumely for those who dote on titillating romans à clef about last year's headline-makers in the gossip columns.