George had felt closer to his father since the Cuban missile crisis, when the threat of imminent annihilation had caused Greg to open his heart. George had always felt, as an illegitimate child, that he was an embarrassment, and that when Greg played the role of father he did so dutifully but without enthusiasm. However, since that surprising conversation he had understood that Greg really loved him. Their relationship continued to be unusual and rather distant, but George now believed it was founded on something genuine and lasting.

While they were waiting for their food, George’s friend Skip Dickerson approached their table. He was dressed for the funeral in a dark suit and a black tie, which looked dramatic against his white-blond hair and pale skin. In his Southern accent, he drawled: “Hi, George. Good evening, Senator. May I join you for just a minute?”

George said: “This is Skip Dickerson, who works for Lyndon. For the president, I should say.”

“Pull up a chair,” said Greg.

Skip drew up a red leather chair, leaned forward, and spoke intensely to Greg. “The president knows you’re a scientist.”

Now, thought George, what the heck is this about? Skip never wasted time in small talk.

Greg smiled. “My major in college was physics, yes.”

“You graduated summa cum laude from Harvard.”

“Lyndon is more impressed by that sort of thing than he should be.”

“But you were one of the scientists who developed the atom bomb.”

“I worked on the Manhattan Project, that’s true.”

“President Johnson wants to make sure you approve of the plans for the Lake Erie study.”

George knew what Skip was talking about. The federal government was financing a waterfront study for the city of Buffalo that would probably lead to a major harbor construction project. It was worth millions of dollars to several companies in upstate New York.

Greg said: “Well, Skip, we’d like to be sure the study isn’t going to be pruned in the budget.”

“You can count on that, sir. The president feels this project is top priority.”

“I’m glad to hear that, thank you.”

The conversation had nothing to do with science, George felt sure. It was about what congressmen called “pork”—the allocation of federal spending projects to favored states.

Skip said: “You’re welcome, and enjoy your dinner. Oh, before I go—can we count on you to support the president on this darn wheat bill?”

The Soviets had had a bad harvest, and they were desperate for grain. As part of the process of trying to get along a little better with the Soviet Union, President Kennedy had sold them surplus American wheat on credit.

Greg sat back and spoke thoughtfully. “Members of Congress feel that if the Communists can’t feed their people it’s not up to us to help them out. Senator Mundt’s wheat bill would cancel Kennedy’s deal, and I kind of think Mundt is right.”

“And President Johnson agrees with you!” said Skip. “He sure doesn’t want to help Communists. But this will be the first vote after the funeral. Do we really want it to be a slap in the face for the dead president?”