Ashen, Ryland’s eyes were bloodshot and his expression blank. He looked directly at Horton and spoke to her as if the others weren’t even in the room. “Ellen.” He stepped closer to her and took her hand in his. “El, it’s Vik … .”

35 - Seattle, Washington

35

Seattle, Washington

Lopez slept fewer than three hours, but when she woke at 5:05 A.M. she felt as energized as if she had slept twelve. After dropping Kilburn off at his hotel, she’d exchanged phone calls and e-mails into the early hours of the morning with her colleagues back in Atlanta, eager to share the news of Oraloxin’s success, the first break in the MRGAS crisis.

When she stepped out of the shower, her dog waited outside the bathroom door frantically wagging her tail. “I know, Rosa, Mommy will take you out for a quick walk.” Before she had Rosa, she used to shake her head at people who tried to engage their dogs in conversation, especially the ones who referred to themselves as “mommy” or “daddy”. She realized she had become as nutty as those. other childless dog owners.

“Maybe I’m more ready for kids than I thought,” she told Rosa. She reached down and swept the dog up in her arms, enjoying the lingering shampoo scent from Rosa’s recent grooming. “Ready or not, girl, without a decent man in sight, you’re my only baby now.”

Although, Lopez had begun to notice the many babies and toddlers around her in parks, supermarkets, offices, even in her own building, she refused to attribute her increased awareness to a ticking biological clock. Instead, she blamed the neighbors next door and their adorable eighteen-month-old daughter, Alicia. In one of an array of heart-stoppingly cute dresses or overalls, Alicia wobbled up and down the hallway daily. If she caught sight of Lina, she would go right up to her. With saucer-brown eyes and an ear-to-ear smile fixed on her elfin face, the toddler would open her arms wide. Lopez would swoop down, lift Alicia under her arms, and zoom her up and down while Alicia giggled gleefully.

As a child, Lina had loved to fly the same way in Papa’s strong hands. The memory brought a pang of melancholy. She knew Papa would have loved grandchildren, and they him. He had clicked with kids of all ages.

Laying aside such thoughts, she leashed up Rosa and headed for the door. Silently promising not to converse with her dog in public, Lopez led Rosa to the elevator and out to the street. Dawn was just breaking, but the streets were already busy. Joggers, businesspeople, and fellow dog-walkers all hurried through the crisp, clear Seattle morning.