Maria was looking attractive in a mature way. She wore a black dress with a matching jacket and a row of pearls. She projected confidence and authority. She looked like what she was, a successful midlevel bureaucrat at the Department of Justice. She refused a cocktail and they ordered lunch.

When the waiter had gone, she said to George: “You never get over it.”

He understood that she was comparing his grief for Bobby to her own bereavement over Jack.

“There’s a hole in your heart, and it doesn’t go away,” she said.

George nodded. She was so right that it was difficult not to cry.

“Work is the best cure,” she said. “That and time.”

She had survived, George realized. Her loss was the greater, for Jack Kennedy had been her lover, not just her friend.

“You helped me,” she said. “You got me the job at Justice. That was my salvation: a new environment, a new challenge.”

“But not a new boyfriend.”

“No.”

“You still live alone?”

“I have two cats,” she said. “Julius and Loopy.”

George nodded. Her being single would have helped her at the Justice Department. They hesitated to promote a married woman who might get pregnant and leave, but a confirmed spinster had a better chance.

Their food came and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Maria put down her fork. “I want you to go back to work, George.”

George was moved by her loving concern, and he admired the steady determination with which she had rebuilt her life. But he could not work up any enthusiasm. He gave a helpless shrug. “Bobby’s gone, McCarthy lost the nomination. Who would I work for?”

Maria surprised him by saying: “Fawcett Renshaw.”

“Those bastards?” Fawcett Renshaw was the Washington law firm that had offered George a job when he graduated, only to withdraw the offer because he went on the Freedom Ride.

“You’d be their civil rights expert,” she added.

George relished the irony. Seven years ago, involvement with civil rights had debarred him from working at Fawcett Renshaw; now it qualified him. We have won some victories, he thought, despite everything. He began to feel better.

“You’ve worked at Justice and on Capitol Hill, so you have priceless inside knowledge,” she went on. “And, you know what? Suddenly it’s become fashionable for a Washington law firm to have one black lawyer on the team.”

“How do you know what Fawcett Renshaw wants?” he asked.

“At the Justice Department we have a lot to do with them. Usually trying to get their clients to comply with government legislation.”

“I’d end up defending corporations who violate civil rights legislation.”

“Think of it as a learning experience. You’ll gain firsthand knowledge of how equalities legislation works on the ground. That would be valuable if ever you returned to politics. Meanwhile you’ll be making good money.”

George wondered if he ever would return to politics.

He looked up to see his father approaching across the restaurant. Greg said: “I’ve just finished lunch—may I join you for coffee?”