Therein, he knew, lay the source of the gloom engulfing him at the moment.

He didn’t know for certain, but he strongly suspected that Martin Mallory was going to leave office and return home to Kansas as penance for dealing untested, genetically modified Chester Enterprises corn to the Chinese in exchange for jobs. Lou also felt fairly certain that First Lady Darlene Mallory would be going with him.

It was nearly nine at night, just over two days since Lou had hugged Emily and Renee, and set off for what he honestly believed were going to be his last hours on earth. Now messages had maxed out his answering machine, and calls were flooding his cell phone as well. The newspapers were gradually piecing together the story, and his name was beginning to pop up. It would, he knew, get worse—undoubtedly much worse.

Already, several reporters had found their way to his front door, to the Physician Wellness Office, and even to Cap’s Stick and Move Gym across the street. Lou saw none of them. Nor had he turned on his TV.

Falling for Darlene as he had was stupid, he knew—childishly dumb, especially after knowing her for such a short time. It was easily the most un-Lou thing he had done in longer than he could remember.

And, oh yes, she was married.

Although she had never said anything outright, he sensed her feelings for him were growing as well. But that only made things harder.

At least, he decided now, he was being forced to come to grips with something that had gotten lost amidst all the gratitude he felt for having gotten straight and sober, having a great relationship with his ex and his daughter, and having his medical license restored, now without restrictions.

He was lonely.

Fantasizing that Darlene might fill that void had been where he went off the track, so to speak.

Smiling at the irony of the image, Lou padded to the kitchen for some cold cranberry juice and a four-pack of SnackWell’s vanilla cookies. There was nothing that could happen in his life that the combination of the two wouldn’t help. He had just returned the Ocean Spray to the fridge when his doorbell buzzer went off. Nine thirty. A little brazen of this reporter—no, a lot brazen. Ready to dismiss whoever it was with a lesson in civility, he stalked to the intercom.

“You’re way out of line coming here at this hour,” he snapped. “Now, go home and write a story about consideration for others.”

“Lou, it’s Darlene,” her voice said softly. “Can I come up?”

“Of course you can come up,” Lou said well after he had buzzed her in.