holding up?" he asked.
Despite her dizziness and exhaustion, Julia flashed him a brave smile. "I'm fine."
"Good. We're almost done."
The next wedding guest approached, a burly, balding man with a familiar florid face and an aura of self-possession. "Senator! Congratulations," he exclaimed He shook Adam's hand, then took Julia's and cupped it between his cool, fleshy palms. "Greg Evans at your service, Mrs. Carmichael. I'm honored to meet you."
Julia smothered a nervous giggle. She wet her dry lips. "No, Justice Evans, the honor is all mine. I've read and been impressed with so many of your decisions. I especially admired Glantz vs. Susman, and your arguments dealing with the right to. . . ." She trailed off, blushing. She felt slightly giddy, like a starstruck teenager meeting a member of her favorite band. "You probably don't want to talk about court decisions right now. Sorry, sir."
He gave a warm belly laugh as he released her hand. "Call me Greg, please." He turned to Adam. "How'd you ever get such a sweetheart to marry you, Carmichael, ornery as you are?"
Adam grinned. "Just lucky, I guess."
"Damned right you were. She's smart as well as beautiful. And who's this little fellow?"
Evans shook Danny's hand, then moved on as more guests approached to introduce themselves. Julia recognized many of these faces from her studies. In a daze, she shook hands with the state controller, the senate majority leader, the attorney general, and the publisher of the Times.
Adam scanned the room. "One more introduction, I think. My mother."
"Oh, of course. I'm surprised we haven't met yet."
Adam shrugged. "Mother's not pleased with me at the moment. I think she resents the fact that I didn't ask her to approve the bride."
He pulled Julia across the room to where a brutally thin woman in a beaded gown stood surrounded by a group of admirers. She turned to flash Adam a frosty smile as the others drifted off, leaving the three of them alone. "Adam, darling, congratulations! And to you, too, of course. . . .um. . ."
"Mother," Adam said smoothly. "This is Julia. Surely you haven't forgotten my bride's name."
"Julia. Of course." She quirked one eyebrow and stared down her nose at Julia.
"Mrs. Carmichael, hello. I -- I'm pleased to meet you."
"Yes, indeed." Adam's mother took Julia's hand with obvious reluctance. The older woman's fingers felt as thin and breakable as twigs, but her grasp startled Julia with its strength.
Adam excused himself for a moment, and Mrs. Carmichael took the opportunity to scrutinize Julia's face. "Moore. Moore. Now, are you by any chance related to the Boston Moores? Or that racing family in Kentucky?"
Julia laughed. "No, not that I know of. I'm afraid we're just ordinary folks."
"Ah. Well, Adam never has cared much for lineage. A pity, really. But then it hardly matters, since I sincerely doubt the marriage will last."
Julia bit back a startled gasp at her mother-in-law's blunt words. Mrs. Carmichael noticed her dismay and shrugged her bony shoulders. "My son is notoriously fickle, I'm afraid. He's just like his father -- incapable of loving anyone but himself."
Julia could hardly believe her ears. Before she could think of a suitable reply, though, Adam reappeared and took her elbow. "Excuse us, Mother. It's time for the first dance."
Julia was still stunned as Adam led her away. But maybe this bitter old woman was right. Maybe Adam was damaged somehow, rendered incapable of love by a childhood devoid of warmth and affection. Certainly Adam's history with women could be used to prove that point. Who could blame him, with a mother like this?
Adam was speaking to her again. She blinked as he repeated the question. "I asked, Can you waltz?"
"Yes, passably well, I think." Julia gave silent thanks to her mother, who had forced Julia to join her for ballroom dance lessons the previous year.
"Just follow my lead." He paused, and a hint of a scowl darkened his expression. "And, Julia, please try to
Despite her dizziness and exhaustion, Julia flashed him a brave smile. "I'm fine."
"Good. We're almost done."
The next wedding guest approached, a burly, balding man with a familiar florid face and an aura of self-possession. "Senator! Congratulations," he exclaimed He shook Adam's hand, then took Julia's and cupped it between his cool, fleshy palms. "Greg Evans at your service, Mrs. Carmichael. I'm honored to meet you."
Julia smothered a nervous giggle. She wet her dry lips. "No, Justice Evans, the honor is all mine. I've read and been impressed with so many of your decisions. I especially admired Glantz vs. Susman, and your arguments dealing with the right to. . . ." She trailed off, blushing. She felt slightly giddy, like a starstruck teenager meeting a member of her favorite band. "You probably don't want to talk about court decisions right now. Sorry, sir."
He gave a warm belly laugh as he released her hand. "Call me Greg, please." He turned to Adam. "How'd you ever get such a sweetheart to marry you, Carmichael, ornery as you are?"
Adam grinned. "Just lucky, I guess."
"Damned right you were. She's smart as well as beautiful. And who's this little fellow?"
Evans shook Danny's hand, then moved on as more guests approached to introduce themselves. Julia recognized many of these faces from her studies. In a daze, she shook hands with the state controller, the senate majority leader, the attorney general, and the publisher of the Times.
Adam scanned the room. "One more introduction, I think. My mother."
"Oh, of course. I'm surprised we haven't met yet."
Adam shrugged. "Mother's not pleased with me at the moment. I think she resents the fact that I didn't ask her to approve the bride."
He pulled Julia across the room to where a brutally thin woman in a beaded gown stood surrounded by a group of admirers. She turned to flash Adam a frosty smile as the others drifted off, leaving the three of them alone. "Adam, darling, congratulations! And to you, too, of course. . . .um. . ."
"Mother," Adam said smoothly. "This is Julia. Surely you haven't forgotten my bride's name."
"Julia. Of course." She quirked one eyebrow and stared down her nose at Julia.
"Mrs. Carmichael, hello. I -- I'm pleased to meet you."
"Yes, indeed." Adam's mother took Julia's hand with obvious reluctance. The older woman's fingers felt as thin and breakable as twigs, but her grasp startled Julia with its strength.
Adam excused himself for a moment, and Mrs. Carmichael took the opportunity to scrutinize Julia's face. "Moore. Moore. Now, are you by any chance related to the Boston Moores? Or that racing family in Kentucky?"
Julia laughed. "No, not that I know of. I'm afraid we're just ordinary folks."
"Ah. Well, Adam never has cared much for lineage. A pity, really. But then it hardly matters, since I sincerely doubt the marriage will last."
Julia bit back a startled gasp at her mother-in-law's blunt words. Mrs. Carmichael noticed her dismay and shrugged her bony shoulders. "My son is notoriously fickle, I'm afraid. He's just like his father -- incapable of loving anyone but himself."
Julia could hardly believe her ears. Before she could think of a suitable reply, though, Adam reappeared and took her elbow. "Excuse us, Mother. It's time for the first dance."
Julia was still stunned as Adam led her away. But maybe this bitter old woman was right. Maybe Adam was damaged somehow, rendered incapable of love by a childhood devoid of warmth and affection. Certainly Adam's history with women could be used to prove that point. Who could blame him, with a mother like this?
Adam was speaking to her again. She blinked as he repeated the question. "I asked, Can you waltz?"
"Yes, passably well, I think." Julia gave silent thanks to her mother, who had forced Julia to join her for ballroom dance lessons the previous year.
"Just follow my lead." He paused, and a hint of a scowl darkened his expression. "And, Julia, please try to
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