‘I’m sorry, Mom.’ She was suddenly contrite. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so bitter. I didn’t mean to knock your profession. I really didn’t....I know it makes you happy. It’s just that…well, I’m not you, and I never will be. I’m not telling you not to do what you do. I’m just . . . asking you to appreciate what I want to do . . .’ ‘I know,’ I swallowed. ‘I’m trying to understand. I really am. It’s just all so . . . foreign to me.’ She hugged me then, and I remembered the afternoon Barry and I had. Mr. Westervelt welcomed us warmly into his home. Always the jovial and generous host, he had arranged for a prenuptial banquet that would have put many a royal party to shame.Martha was to be my maid of honor, with Elizabeth, Roberta, Anne, and Beverly as my bridesmaids. Jeremy had selected Tad Stevens for his best man, with Donald, Charles, Gerald, and Harry Millar serving as ushers. The ceremony was to be held in the beautifully manicured gardens at the rear of the house, and the weather on. More

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