I said, “I’m actually calling on a professional matter, Ali. Do you know an esteemed colleague named Patrick Hauser?”

“I’ve seen him at a few meetings. Why?”

I told her.

She said, “I guess I’m not surprised. Rumor has it he drinks. An encounter group, huh? That does surprise me.”

“Why?”

“He seems more the corporate consultant type. How many patients are we talking about?”

“Three.”

“That’s pretty damning.”

“Hauser claims it’s a group delusion. There’s no physical evidence, so it boils down to a he said/they said. The State Board’s been sitting on it for months, still hasn’t handed down a disposition. The women got impatient and contacted a lawyer.”

“All three have one lawyer?”

“They’re framing it as a mini–class action, hoping others will hear about it and come forward.”

“How’d they find out they’d had similar experiences with Hauser?”

“They hung around after session, went for drinks, it came out.”

“Not too smart of Hauser to put them in the same room.”

“Fondling patients is no act of genius.”

“So you think he did it.”

“I’m open-minded but all three were seeing Hauser for mild depression, nothing delusional.”

“Like I said, he’s known to imbibe. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Thanks...so how’s it been?”

“Life in general?” she said. “It’s been okay.”

“Want to join me for dinner?”

Where had that come from?

She didn’t answer.

I said, “Sorry. Rewind the tape.”

“No,” she said. “I’m thinking about the offer. When did you mean?”

“I’m open. Including tonight.”

“Hmm...I’ll be free in an hour, have to eat anyway. Where?”

“You name it.”

“How about that steak place?” she said. “The one where we met the first time.”

* * *

I asked for a booth away from the mahogany bar with its low-pitched alkie chatter and sports on TV. By the time Allison showed up ten minutes later, I’d finished my Chivas, was working on my second glass of water.

The restaurant was dim and she stood there for a few seconds letting her eyes adjust. Her long, black hair swung free and her ivory face was serious. I thought I saw tension around the shoulders.

She stepped forward, revealed color. An orange pantsuit hugged her trim little body. Tangerine-orange. With that hair of hers, Halloween Costume could’ve been a problem but she made it work.

She spotted me, strode forward on high heels. The usual adornments sparkled at earlobes, wrists, and neck. Gold and sapphire; the stones brought out the deep blue of her eyes and played off the orange. Her makeup was perfect and her nails were French-tipped. The smile that parted her lips was hard to read.

A substantive woman but she takes a long time getting herself together.