Darlene nodded emphatically, but sensed she wasn’t convincing. Good doctors, and Lou certainly seemed to be one of those, often possessed the ability to get more out of a facial expression than they could out of lab tests. Martin, though a lawyer, had a knack for reading faces as well. Lately, though, his concerns seemed more global than with any individual, including her and Lisa. Darlene knew she was enjoying Lou too much to try to be an enigma.

“I used to come here with Martin whenever we had a campaign stop in Philadelphia,” she said. “I fell in the love with the view. I think the Philadelphia skyline is one of the most beautiful anywhere.”

“I’m glad you brought me to see it,” Lou said. “You’re right. It’s spectacular.”

“I probably shouldn’t have done this,” she said.

“Nonsense. We’ve got an hour to kill before our meeting with Humphries.”

That’s not what I meant, and you know it, she thought.

“It’s silly, really,” she said, “but I’ve never come to Philadelphia without stopping here. Martin and I would look out at the skyline and each make a wish.”

“So it’s a tradition.”

“It started off as that, but it’s morphed into more of a superstition—like a chain letter that warns you of a curse unless you continue it. If you don’t wish upon the Philadelphia skyline, something bad is going to happen. Pass it on.”

Lou laughed. What surprised her was not the warmth of his laugh so much as how much she enjoyed hearing it. She could barely believe it, but Dr. Darlene Mallory, caretaker of thousands of children over the years, First Lady of the United States, woman of the year in countless magazines around the globe, was feeling giddy—schoolgirl giddy.

“Well,” he said, “I see this as a hell of a lot healthier superstition than coming up here to eat a Philly cheesesteak sandwich.”

“Mmmmm, now me want cheesesteak sandwich,” she said in the imitation of Grover from Sesame Street that her patients loved to hear her use.

She added Lou’s grin to the things she liked about him, and tried to remember the last time she and Martin had sat alone together laughing at anything.

“So what did you wish for?” Lou asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” she said with indignation. “Have you not ever studied anything about the art of wishing?”

“The farthest I’ve gone was when I was in my second month of rehab, writing four pages of Wishing for Dummies. I must have learned something from it, because after the third month, I got out.”

“From what I have learned, a lot of people have benefited because you did.”