Charlie took a sip of his drink, put the paper down, and looked around the room. For a moment, he thought perhaps he should try to sleep with one of the young waitresses. Maybe the brunette was an aspiring actress from Omaha. Maybe the blonde was an ex-Rockette and would be happy to hook up with a Fifth Avenue doctor. Maybe within two years she’d be planning benefits with Grey Navez. But the fantasy of the young waitress wasn’t working. In fact, it only depressed him. He continued to read the item.

“Who says romance isn’t in the air? ‘Barry and Samantha are absolutely made for each other,’ says gal pal Adrienne Strong-Rodman.”

Charlie swallowed another sip of his martini and continued reading.

“But we hear not everyone is so upbeat about the hot couple—especially Mrs. Clarice Santorini and society doc Charlie Acton. In fact, Clarice Santorini, who is suddenly very popular in the social set, is quietly gathering forces. Clarice is too tasteful to talk, but trust me, her friends have plenty to say. As for Dr. Acton, we hear his refrigerator is so full he hardly has time to come out from the cold.”

Charlie put his drink down and dialed his phone.

The machine picked up. “Hi, this is Samantha Bagley. You’ve reached me at my new number. Leave a message.”

Charlie breathed and said nothing. He hadn’t heard the message that eliminated both his name and their marriage. He dialed the phone again.

“Dr. Weissman, this is Dr. Acton,” he spoke quickly. “I haven’t gotten mugged again, but I’d still like to see you. I’ll call you back if I’m ever sober.”

Charlie had ordered another drink when his cell phone rang.

“Dr. Weissman,” Charlie answered.

“How did you know it was me?” Frankie had called from the hospital where she was covering for a young associate.

“Because you’re the kind of earnest do-gooder who would call me right back.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m at the New York Hilton. There’s a sign up here saying ‘Welcome Pharmaceutical Supply Conference.’”

“Maybe you should see if there’s any leftover Vioxx,” Frankie immediately replied.

Charlie laughed, not so much at the joke as at the warmth of her voice. “Francesca, I’m sorry I haven’t seen you since the night you rescued me.” He took a sip of his martini.

“Are you all right? Do you want me to meet you?” Frankie asked.

“No. I just wanted to say I’m sorry I haven’t seen you since the night you rescued me,” he said again and took another sip of his martini.

“Hey, no problem. I’ve been worried about you, that’s all.”

“I’m worried about me, too, Francesca. I would really like to see you.”

“We can see each other, sure. Anytime,” Frankie said.