“You know, one of the hardest things for me, Mel, is knowing that I'll never be both a mother and father to my kids. And they need both, especially Pam.”

“You can't expect that much of yourself. You're only you, and you give the best you have to give. More than that you can't do.”

“I guess not.” But he didn't sound convinced. And he glanced over at her again. “You've never thought of remarrying for the sake of the girls?” It was different for her, he told himself, she didn't have the memory of someone she had loved to overcome, or perhaps she had loved him but there was anger she could hang on to and in that way she was far freer than he, and for her, also, it had been a much longer time.

“I don't think marriage is for me. And I think the girls understand that now. They used to bug me about it a lot, when they were younger. And yeah, there were times when I felt guilty too. But we were better off alone than with the wrong man, and the funny thing is”—she smiled sheepishly at him—“sometimes I even think I like it better like this. I'm not sure how I'd adjust to someone sharing the girls with me now. Maybe that's an awful thing to admit, but sometimes that's what I feel. I've gotten very possessive about them I guess.”

“That's understandable if you've been alone with them for all this time.”

He sat back against his seat and looked at her.

“Maybe. Jessica and Val are the best things in my life. They're a couple of terrific kids.” She was all mother hen as they exchanged a smile and he got out of the car to open her door. She slid off the seat and looked up at him with a smile. They were in posh Beverly Hills, only two blocks from the illustrious Rodeo Drive. And Melanie looked around. The Bistro Gardens was a beautiful restaurant that seemed to combine art deco and a riot of plants leading to the patio outside, and everywhere she looked there were the chic and the rich and the fashionably dressed. Lunch was still in full swing. She saw faces she knew at several tables, movie stars, an aging television queen, a literary giant who made the best-seller lists every time, and then suddenly as she looked around, she noticed that people were looking at her, she saw two women whisper something to a third, and when the headwaiter approached Peter with a smile, his eyes took in Melanie too.

“Hello, Doctor. Hello, Miss Adams, it's nice to see you again.” She couldn't remember ever seeing him before, but it was obvious that he knew who she was and wanted her to know. She was amused as she followed him to a table beneath an umbrella outside and Peter looked at her with a questionable glance.

“Do people recognize you all the time?”

“Not always. It depends on where I am. I suppose that in a place like this they do. It's their stock-in-trade.” She glanced at the well-filled tables all around, the Bistro Gardens catered to the moneyed, the chic, the celebrated, the successful, a host of important names. And then she smiled at Peter again. “It's like being around Dr. Hallam at the hospital where everyone was staring at you. It depends on where you are.”

“I suppose.” But he had never noticed people staring at him. He could see a number of people watching Melanie now, and she handled it very well. She didn't seem aware of the curious stares at all.

“This is a wonderful place.” She breathed a sigh in the balmy air, and turned so that she would get the sunshine on her face. It really felt like summer here, and one didn't have the feeling of being trapped in the city, which could happen in New York. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sun. “This is just right.” And then she opened them again. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He sat back in his seat with a smile. “I didn't think the cafeteria was quite your style.”

“It could be, you know. Most of the time, it is. But that's what makes something like this such a treat. When I'm working I don't have much time to eat, or to bother with the niceties of a delightful place like this.”

“Neither do I.”

They exchanged a grin, and Melanie raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Do you suppose we both work too hard, Doctor?”

“I suspect we do. But I also suspect we both love what we do. That helps.”

“It sure does.” She looked peaceful as she looked at him, and he felt more comfortable than he had in almost two years.

As she watched him, she realized again that she admired his style. “Will you go back to the hospital again today?”

“Of course. I want to do some more tests on Pattie Lou.” Mel frowned at his words, thinking of the child.

“Is it going to be rough for her?”

“We'll make it as easy as we can. Surgery is really her only chance.”

“And you're still going to take her heart out and repair it and put it back?”

“I think so. We haven't had any suitable donors for her in weeks, we may not in months. There are few enough donors for the adults, who it's easier to find matches for. On the average we do twenty-five to thirty transplants a year. As you saw from our rounds today, most of what we do is bypass surgery. The rest is very special work and we don't do very much of it, although of course that's all you hear about in the press.”

“Peter.” She looked puzzled and took a sip of the white wine the waiter had brought. She found that she was growing fascinated by his work, and regardless of the story she was here to do, she wanted to learn more. “Why are you using a pig valve?”

“We don't need blood thinners with animal valves. And in her case, that's a real plus. We use animal valves all the time, and they don't reject.”

“Could you use the whole animal heart?” He was quick to shake his head.

“Not a chance. It would reject instantly. The human body is a strange and beautiful thing.”

She nodded, thinking of the little black girl. “I hope you can fix her up.”

“So do I. We've got three others waiting for donors right now too.”

“How do you determine which one gets the first chance?”

“Whoever is the best match. We try to come within thirty pounds from donor to recipient. You can't put the heart of a ninety-pound girl into a two-hundred-pound man, or vice versa. In the first case, it wouldn't support the man's weight, and in the second, it wouldn't fit.”

She shook her head, more than a little in awe at what he did. “It's an amazing thing you do, my friend.”

“It still amazes me too. Not so much my part in it, but the miracle and mechanics of it all. I love my work, I guess that helps.” She looked carefully at him for a moment, and then glanced around the glamorous crowd at the restaurant and back at him. He was wearing a navy blue linen blazer over his light blue shirt, and she decided he had a casual but distinguished air.

“It feels good to like what you do, doesn't it?” He smiled at her words. Obviously her own work made her feel that way. And then Melanie suddenly found herself thinking about Anne.

“Did your wife work?”

“No.” He shook his head, remembering back to the constant support she'd given him. She was a very different breed of woman from Mel, but he had needed her to be that way at the time.

“No, she didn't. She stayed home and took care of the kids. It made it even harder on them when she died.” But he was curious about Mel now.

“Do you think your daughters resent your work, Mel?"”

“I hope not.” She tried to be honest with him. “Maybe once in a while, but I think they like what I do.” She grinned and looked like a young girl. “It probably impresses their friends, and they like that.” He smiled too. It even impressed him.

“Wait till my kids hear I had lunch with you.” They both laughed and he paid for their lunch when the check came. They stood up regretfully, sorry to leave, and to end the comfortable exchange. She stretched as they got in the car.

“I feel so lazy.” She smiled happily at him. “It feels like summer here.” It was only May, but she would have enjoyed lounging at the pool.

And as he started the car, his own mind drifted ahead. “We're going to Aspen, as usual this year. What do you do in the summer, Mel?”

“We go to Martha's Vineyard every year.”

“What's that like?”

She squinted her eyes, with her chin in her hand. “It's a little bit like being a little kid, or playing Huckleberry Finn. You run around in shorts and bare feet all day, the kids hang out at the beach, and the houses look like the kind of place where you'd visit your grandmother, or a great-aunt. I love it because I don't have to impress anyone while I'm there. I don't have to dress up, or see anyone if I don't want to, I can just lie around and hang out. We go there for two months every year.”

“Can you leave your work for that long?” He seemed surprised.

“It's in my contract now. It used to be one month, but for the last three years it's been two.”

“Not bad. Maybe that's what I need.”

“Two months at Martha's Vineyard?” She looked enchanted at the idea. “You would adore it, Peter! It's an absolutely wonderful, magical place.”

He smiled at the look on her face, and suddenly noticed the texture of her hair. It shone like satin in the sun and he suddenly wondered to himself how it felt to the touch. “I meant a contract for my work.” He tried to pull his mind and his eyes away from her shimmering copper hair. And her eyes were of a green he had never seen before, almost emerald with gold flecks. She was a beautiful woman, and he felt something deep within him stir. He drove her back to the hospital then, and tried to keep the conversation centered on Pattie Lou. They had come close enough in the past few hours, almost too close, and it worried him. He was beginning to feel as though he had betrayed Anne by what he felt for Mel. And as they walked back into the hospital, Mel wondered why he was suddenly cool.