She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Definitely a huggable turn of events, Graham.”

A tall young hostess with long dyed-blond hair approached them. “Your table’s ready,” she said perkily and led them to a table in the corner.

Once seated, Lopez pointed to the third place setting at the square table. “Seth?”

Kilburn nodded. “Yeah. I caught him as he was heading out for a run. He said he would try to catch up but to go ahead and order without him.”

“Okay.” Lopez brushed off as juvenile the slight sense of letdown. “Okay, Graham, what’s going on at Harborcenter?”

“You remember the little girl David told us about?”

Lopez nodded. “The ten-year-old with MRGAS pneumonia?”

He smiled. “She’s going to be off the ventilator by day’s end.”

Lopez shook her head in surprise. “But she’s only had twenty-four hours of treatment!”

Kilburn beamed. “Her doctors are pleasantly astounded by her response.”

“No chance this is just a coincidence and not related to Oraloxin?”

“Lina, yesterday morning they were planning her funeral. Today they’re planning her discharge. It’s no coincidence.” He shook his head emphatically. “And she’s not alone. She’s the most dramatic responder, but all of the patients on Oraloxin are showing signs of improvement, or at least stabilization, this morning.”

“A toast.” Lopez raised her water glass to Kilburn. “To the genius who thought of trying this obscure experimental drug in the first place.”

“A stab in the dark.” Kilburn shrugged. “No. The real genius we have to thank is the one behind Oraloxin, Ellen Horton.” He raised his glass and touched hers. “To Ellen.”

“To Ellen.” Lopez put her glass down. “You two are friends from med school, huh?”

“We’ve lost touch in recent years,” he said with a sigh, “but we were close in school. We met as anatomy lab partners, Ellen and I became study partners afterward.”

“What’s she like?”

“Ellen?” Kilburn looked down at his glass, considering the question. “Aside from brilliant, she’s very driven. But she’s also sweet, soft-spoken, and …”

She picked up on his hesitation. “And?”

“Like most overachievers I’ve ever met, Ellen has always been her own worst enemy,” he said. “Nothing was ever good enough. She had low self-esteem. And she suffers—or at least used to—from bouts of deep depression.”

Lopez recognized the genuine affection in Kilburn’s words. “It’s true about overachievers. Some of the most renowned people I worked with in Atlanta were also the most miserable.”

“See?” He grinned playfully. “That’s why I revel in my mediocrity.”

“As if.” Lopez rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I think my dad had the best perspective on overachievement.”

“Which was?”

“Papa recognized my ambitiousness long before I did.”

“You?” Kilburn uttered in mock surprise. “Ambitious?”