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for her, and that would be enough. Books had always been enough.
    She picked up the phone and started to dial. Then she heard the doorbell.
     
    | 9
    Senator Levering said, “You seem a bit edgy, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
    He sat facing Millie in the back of the limousine. She was on the side, near the wet bar, castigating herself for being so transparent. This is just a dinner with a man, a senator, an ally, she told herself. Don’t be such a baby.
    “ I’m a little rusty at this,” Millie said.
    “It’s like riding a mule,” Levering said. “Nothing to it if you hang on. How about a drink?”
    “Do you have 7-Up?”
    “I was thinking Perrier-Jouët ’95.”
    “Sounds French and imposing.”
    “It’s only the finest champagne this side of the moon.”
    “Why not?” A bit of celebration was in order, wasn’t it? A chief justice appointment didn’t happen very often.
    The senator fished the bottle of champagne from the ice bin. “What shall we talk about? The Takings Clause?”
    She laughed a little, and it felt good. “If that’s your passion,” she joked.
    Levering removed the cork and poured the champagne into two flutes. “I am a man of many passions,” he said, handing her a glass. He clinked his against hers. “To our new chief justice.”
    “Perhaps,” Millie said.
    “So shall it be written,” Levering said. “So shall it be done.”
    “That sounds familiar.”
    “Yul Brynner in The Ten Commandments.”
    “Ah yes. Pharaoh. Is that how you see yourself?”
    Levering slid back to his seat which did, indeed, look like a throne. “I see myself as a man of the people, Millie. May I call you Millie?”
    “Certainly.”
    “But some of us are called by fate to positions of great power. You. Me. Yul Brynner.”
    Millie smiled. “Didn’t he drown in the Red Sea?”
    “Not Yul,” Levering said. “A survivor, like me. In this life we have friends and enemies, Millie. The trick is to know your enemies, treat ’em like friends, then stick ’em when they’re not looking.” He said the last with a wink, but Millie felt he was deadly serious.
    “Where are we going tonight?” Millie asked.
    “Thought we’d drive around a little,” said Levering. “Take in the city lights. Talk. We’ll end up somewhere.”
    He drank the rest of his champagne, then poured himself another glass. Millie had the distinct feeling Levering had had a few drinks before picking her up.
    “Tell me about yourself,” Millie said. If this was going to be a date, she was going to treat it like one.
    “You’ve read the papers,” Levering said.
    She waved her hand dismissively. “Indulge me with a summary.”
    “The particulars are I’m divorced, have a . . .” He hesitated. “A son.”
    She perceived in him a desire to talk, and waited patiently. It was the first time she had seen any sort of vulnerability in his face.
    “You’ve read about my son, I’m sure,” Levering said. “He ran off some time ago, joined a religious thing. We — his mother and I — tried to get him out of it. He went back to it about five years ago, and I haven’t spoken to him since. How’s that for confession?”
    “I’m sorry,” Millie said, wishing she could say more. But she was not used to intimate talk with men. Or women, for that matter. Not even Helen.
    “No need to be,” Levering said. “You have a personal religion, Millie?”
    The question caught her off guard. “I believe in the law,” she finally replied.
    “Well said. Hey, take a look at that.” He pointed out the tinted window. Millie recognized the lights of the Jefferson Memorial. It was, for her, the prettiest of the major memorials in the city.
    And then Levering was on the seat next to her. “A little more champagne?” he offered.
    “No, thank you,” Millie said.
    “May I be so bold as to give some advice to a Supreme Court justice?”
    “All right.” She could smell his cologne now, mingling with the scent of