Page 36 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

Babe Lee held his hand and looked into his eyes as if she wanted to marry him. "We're so grateful to you, George, and proud, too." Her manner was so seductive that George glanced uneasily at her husband, thinking he might be angered, but neither Percy nor Verena showed any reaction, and George wondered whether Babe did this to every man she met.

As soon as he could free his hand from Babe's grasp, George turned to Percy. "I know you campaigned for Kennedy in the presidential election last year," he said. "Aren't you angry now about his record on civil rights?"

"We're all disappointed," Percy said.

Verena broke in. "I should think so! Bobby Kennedy asked the Riders for a cooling-off period. Can you imagine? Of course CORE refused. America is ruled by laws, not mobs!"

"A point that should have been made by the attorney general," George said.

Percy nodded, unperturbed by this two-person attack. "I hear the administration has made a deal with the Southern states," he said. George pricked up his ears: this had not been in the newspapers. "The state governors have agreed to restrain the mobs, which is what the Kennedy brothers want."

George knew that in politics no one ever gave something for nothing. "What was the quid pro quo?"

"The attorney general will turn a blind eye to the illegal arrest of Freedom Riders."

Verena was outraged, and irritated with her father. "I wish you had told me about this before, Daddy," she said sharply.

"I knew it would make you mad, honey."

Verena's face darkened at this condescension, and she looked away.

George concentrated on the key question: "Will you protest publicly, Mr. Marquand?"

"I've thought about it," said Percy. "But I don't think it would have much impact."

"It might influence black voters against Kennedy in 1964."

"Are we sure we want to do that? We'd all be worse off with someone like Dick Nixon in the White House."

Verena said indignantly: "Then what can we do?"

"What's happened in the South in the past month has proved, beyond doubt, that the law as it stands is too weak. We need a new civil rights bill."

George said: "Amen to that."

Percy went on: "I might be able to help make that happen. Right now I have a little influence in the White House. If I criticize the Kennedys I'll have none."

George felt Percy should speak out. Verena voiced the same thought. "You ought to say what's right," she said. "America is full of people being judicious. That's how we got into this mess."

Her mother was offended. "Your daddy is famous for saying what's right," she said indignantly. "He has stuck his neck out again and again."

George saw that Percy was not to be persuaded. But perhaps he was right. A new civil rights bill, making it impossible for the Southern states to oppress Negroes, might be the only real solution.

"I'd better find my folks," George said. "An honor to meet you both."

"Think about working for Martin," Verena called after him as he walked away.

He went to the park where law degrees would be presented. A temporary stage had been built, and trestle tables had been set up in tents for the lunch afterward. He found his parents right away.

His mother had a new yellow dress. She must have saved up for it: she was proud, and would not allow the rich Peshkovs to buy things for her, only for George. She looked him up and down, in his academic robe and mortarboard. "This is the happiest day of my life," she said. Then, to his astonishment, she burst into tears.

George was surprised. This was unusual. She had spent the last twenty-five years refusing to show weakness. He put his arms around her and hugged her. "I'm so lucky to have you, Mom," he said.

He detached himself gently from her embrace and blotted her tears with a clean white handkerchief. Then he turned to his father. Like most of the alumni, Greg was wearing a straw boater that had a hatband printed with the year of his graduation from Harvard--in his case, 1942. "Congratulations, my boy," he said, shaking George's hand. Well, George thought, he's here, which is something.

George's grandparents appeared a moment later. Both were Russian immigrants. His grandfather, Lev Peshkov, had started out running bars and nightclubs in Buffalo, and now owned a Hollywood studio. Grandfather had always been a dandy, and today he wore a white suit. George never knew what to think of him. People said he was a ruthless businessman with little respect for the law. On the other hand, he had been kind to his black grandson, giving him a generous allowance as well as paying his tuition.

Now he took George's arm and said confidentially: "I have one piece of advice for you in your law career. Don't represent criminals."

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