all the king's women; Good genes, bad history.

Byline: Jonathan Van Meter

About an hour and a half into my first meeting with the Presley women, the similarities between Lisa Marie and Priscilla begin to surface. They are both, in their own way, shy. They are very funny and like to laugh. They both have a tendency to mangle the English language in conversation, and that's not a complaint. The results are often unintentionally brilliant. Each of them has made ill-advised-sometimes bewildering-choices in men, and didn't break the pattern until her mid-30s. And they are both exquisitely aware of their strange and singular fame.

The ghost of Elvis haunts them, and the effect of his formidable legend on their lives seems to permeate everything they say and do. But what they also share is a fierce desire to be independent from his legacy, to be more than just the keepers of the flame. They are the only two people who can really understand what it's like to be them. They, and they alone, know what it means, for example, to have the home they once lived in become a multi-

million-dollar tourist attraction, a destination that verges on an American rite of passage, like Disneyland. They have both worked hard to salvage Elvis's dignity and fought for their own credibility, with varying degrees of success. And isn't it comforting to know that they have each other?

I meet them-along with Lisa Marie's daughter, Danielle

Riley-in mid-May for high tea at the Peninsula hotel in Beverly Hills. The setting is hilariously incongruous-not to mention a terrible idea. There is a woman playing a harp right near our table, and the service is so hush-hush and fluttery that it only heightens the awkwardness of the situation. They have never done an interview together, and Riley has never spoken to the press before today. Lisa Marie arrives early and then nervously gets on her cell phone in an attempt to find her mother, who is more than a half hour late.

At first glance, the Presley women could not seem more different. Priscilla is exceedingly polite and ladylike-though occasionally giggly-girly. She is not the kind of woman who would ever curse in public. She dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin. She is formal and private in an old-fashioned, almost Waspy way. Interviewing her is a challenge because she has spent her life not sharing her deepest feelings. She measures each word very carefully.