Custody by Nancy Thayer

Her head seemed disproportionately large for her body, and it was a wonder that she could stand, let alone move, so laden was she with heavy gold jewelry.
    “ Judge MacLeod! My dear!” She seized Kelly’s hand. “May I congratulate you. We’re all so proud of you! We’ve watched your career with such interest and we’re so excited to see, if you will, justice”—she interrupted herself to trill a laugh. “—being done!”
    Kelly murmured, “Thank you.” She hated being targeted for attention like this, so quickly she turned toward Donna. “I don’t know whether or not you’ve met my friend Donna Krebs.”
    “Hello.” Eleanor lasered her calculating eyes on short, voluptuous Donna.
    “Donna’s an attorney with Dunlap and Reed, where I worked.”
    Eleanor’s smile deepened. “We are pleased to meet you. We can’t tell you how exciting it is for an old hen like me to see you lovely young chicks working right alongside the big boys.”
    “It’s pretty exciting for us, as well,” Donna replied.
    “Mrs. Marks.”
    When her personal secretary tapped her arm, Eleanor turned on a dime. Frowning, she listened to the message, then flashed Kelly and Donna a smile.
    “We must take a call. We’ll be in touch, Kelly. So glad to meet you, Donna.”
    She whirled away.
    “Where does she get her energy?” Donna murmured. “And what’s with the royal we ?”
    Kelly snatched two mimosas in frosted flutes from a passing tray and handed one toDonna. “You can dis her, but you’ve got to remember her age. She’s eighty-one.”
    “No way.”
    “Way.”
    “That explains the high heels and stiff hair.”
    “And the face-lift and the jewelry, yes, but still, she’s been fighting for women’s issues since before we were born. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a pair of jeans in her closet—”
    “I would be.”
    “—but no matter what she looks like, her values are solid. Her heart’s in the right place. If she’d been born forty years later, she’d be the one running for office, and not the state seat, either.”
    Donna scanned the room. “This is an impressive crowd. All right. You’ve sold me. Although I find it hard to like anyone with this much money. And I hate parties like this with only women.”
    “That’s because you’re indoctrinated to think that a group of only women is a second-rate assembly. The only thing women get together for is to talk about cosmetics or Tupperware, right? Just think of all the power conferences in smoky rooms men and only men have taken part in over the past few decades—hell, centuries. This is just the female version, and about time.”
    Something like a loud bronze gong sounded, followed by the staccato of a knife tapped on glass. The loud chatter in the room dimmed to a buzz as everyone turned to face the raised platform where Eleanor Marks stood in front of a microphone.
    “Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. I’m Eleanor Marks, by the way, your hostess, and I can’t tell you how exciting it is to see so many friends gathered here together.
    “I’ve just received a phone call from our guest of honor, Anne Madison. Her assistant, Rebecca Prentiss, scheduled her for two meetings in this time slot—we all know how easily that can happen, don’t we? Most of us know Anne already, and are eager to help her win this election, but I’d like her campaign manager, Lillian Doolittle, to speak just a few moments, just to remind us why we need to support Anne Madison.”
    Applause fluttered lightly over the room as Lillian Doolittle stepped up to the microphone. Lillian was as chubby as Eleanor was thin, but she radiated the same kind of optimistic vitality. Unlike Eleanor, Lillian wore trousers, a loose tunic that hid her bulk, and no jewelry. Her shoes were flat-heeled and her hair a short, dry thatch. But her eyes gleamed, and energy glowed from her.
    “First, I want to thank Eleanor for hosting this little get-together. If you look around theroom,