Jennifer had been tired and depressed at the beginning of the evening, but there was such a vitality about Michael Moretti that it seemed to spill over, charging the air, enveloping Jennifer.

Michael took her to a small bar where a jazz group was playing, and afterward they went on to the lounge of another hotel to hear a new singing group. Everywhere they went Michael was treated like royalty. Everyone tried to get his attention, to say hello to him, to touch him, to let him know they were there.

During the time they were together, Michael did not say one word at which Jennifer could take offense. And yet, Jennifer felt such a strong sexuality coming from him that it was like a series of waves beating at her. Her body felt bruised, violated. She had never experienced anything like it. It was a disquieting feeling and, at the same time, exhilarating. There was a wild, animal vitality about him that Jennifer had never encountered before.

It was four o’clock in the morning when Michael finally walked Jennifer back to her suite. When they reached Jennifer’s door, Michael took her hand and said, “Good night. I just want you to know this has been the greatest night of my life.”

His words frightened Jennifer.

33

In Washington, Adam Warner’s popularity was growing. He was written up in the newspapers and magazines with increasing frequency. Adam started an investigation of ghetto schools, and headed a Senate committee that went to Moscow to meet with dissidents. There were newspaper photographs of his arrival at Sheremetyevo Airport, being greeted by unsmiling Russian officials. When Adam returned ten days later, the newspapers gave warm praise to the results of his trip.

The coverage kept expanding. The public wanted to read about Adam Warner and the media fed their appetite. Adam became the spearhead for reform in the Senate. He headed a committee to investigate conditions in federal penitentiaries, and he visited prisons around the country. He talked to the inmates and guards and wardens, and when his committee’s report was turned in, extensive reforms were begun.

In addition to the news magazines, women’s magazines ran articles about him. In Cosmopolitan, Jennifer saw a picture of Adam, Mary Beth and their little daughter, Samantha. Jennifer sat by the fireplace in her bedroom and looked at the picture for a long, long time. Mary Beth was smiling into the camera, exuding sweet, warm southern charm. The daughter was a miniature of her mother. Jennifer turned to the picture of Adam. He looked tired. There were small lines around his eyes that had not been there before, and his sideburns were beginning to be tinged with gray. For a moment, Jennifer had the illusion that she was seeing the face of Joshua, grown up. The resemblance was uncanny. The photographer had had Adam turn directly into the camera, and it seemed to Jennifer that he was looking at her. She tried to read the expression in his eyes, and she wondered whether he ever thought about her.

Jennifer turned to look again at the photograph of Mary Beth and her daughter. Then she threw the magazine into the fireplace and watched it burn.

Adam Warner sat at the head of his dinner table, entertaining Stewart Needham and half a dozen other guests. Mary Beth sat at the other end of the table, making small talk with a senator from Oklahoma and his bejeweled wife. Washington had been like a stimulant to Mary Beth. She was in her element here. Because of Adam’s increasing importance, Mary Beth had become one of Washington’s top hostesses and she reveled in that position. The social side of Washington bored Adam, and he was glad to leave it to Mary Beth. She handled it well and he was grateful to her.

“In Washington,” Stewart Needham was saying, “more deals get made over dinner tables than in the hallowed halls of Congress.”

Adam looked around the table and wished that this evening were over. On the surface, everything was wonderful. Inside, everything was wrong. He was married to one woman and in love with another. He was locked into a marriage from which there was no escape. If Mary Beth had not become pregnant, Adam knew he would have gone ahead with the divorce. It was too late now; he was committed. Mary Beth had given him a beautiful little daughter and he loved her, but it was impossible to get Jennifer out of his mind.

The wife of the governor was speaking to him.

“You’re so lucky, Adam. You have everything in the world a man could want, don’t you?”

Adam could not bring himself to answer.

34

The seasons came and went and they revolved around Joshua. He was the center of Jennifer’s world. She watched him grow and develop, day by day, and it was a never-ending wonder as he began to walk and talk and reason. His moods changed constantly and he was, in turn, wild and aggressive and shy and loving. He became upset when Jennifer had to leave him at night, and he was still afraid of the dark, so Jennifer always left a night light on for him.

When Joshua was two years old he was impossible, a typical “Terrible Two.” He was destructive and stubborn and violent. He loved to “fix” things. He broke Mrs. Mackey’s sewing machine, ruined the two television sets in the house and took Jennifer’s wristwatch apart. He mixed the salt with the sugar and fondled himself when he thought he was alone. Ken Bailey brought Jennifer a German shepherd puppy, Max, and Joshua bit it.

When Ken came to the house to visit, Joshua greeted him with, “Hi! Do you have a ding-dong? Can I see it?”

That year, Jennifer would gladly have given Joshua away to the first passing stranger.

At three, Joshua suddenly became an angel, gentle, affectionate and loving. He had the physical coordination of his father, and he loved doing things with his hands. He no longer broke things. He enjoyed playing outdoors, climbing and running and riding his tricycle.

Jennifer took him to the Bronx Zoo and to marionette plays. They walked along the beach and saw a festival of Marx Brothers movies in Manhattan, and had ice cream sodas afterward at Old Fashioned Mr. Jennings on the ninth floor of Bonwit Teller.

Joshua had become a companion. As a Mother’s Day gift, Joshua learned a favorite song of Jennifer’s father—Shine On, Harvest Moon—and sang it to Jennifer. It was the most touching moment of her life.

It’s true, Jennifer thought, that we do not inherit the world from our parents; we borrow it from our children.

Joshua had started nursery school and was enjoying it. At night when Jennifer came home, they would sit in front of the fireplace and read together. Jennifer would read Trial Magazine and The Barrister and Joshua would read his picture books. Jennifer would watch Joshua as he sprawled out on the floor, his brow knit in concentration, and she would suddenly be reminded of Adam. It was still like an open wound. She wondered where Adam was and what he was doing.

What he and Mary Beth and Samantha were doing.

Jennifer managed to keep her private and professional life separate, and the only link between the two was Ken Bailey.

He brought Joshua toys and books and played games with him and was, in a sense, a surrogate father.

One Sunday afternoon Jennifer and Ken stood near the tree house, watching Joshua climb up to it.

“Do you know what he needs?” Ken asked.

“No.”

“A father.” He turned to Jennifer. “His real father must be one prize shit.”

“Please don’t, Ken.”

“Sorry. It’s none of my business. That’s the past. It’s the future I’m concerned about. It isn’t natural for you to be living alone like—”