“Sorry. That wasn’t very sensitive of me. Sam and I discussed this some more after our meeting with you. He is impressed that this is a very unusual microbe. But when I told him you and I were getting together, he apologized for talking about how powerful it was and asked me to tell you not to give up hope. Saying anything derogatory against his precious bacteria is not like Sam.”

“I’ve never met anyone quite like him. At certain times he seems seriously in love with the little beasties.”

“Sam is definitely unique,” Vicki said. “I’ve been working with him for four years and that’s the way he’s always been.”

“Well, I wish he had as much faith in the power of science as he does in the power of microbes. His enthusiasm for the germ that’s eating my closest friend is certainly testing my sobriety like few things ever have.”

“How long since you’ve had a drink?” she asked.

Ironically, at that moment, they turned a corner and were standing in front of the Blue Ox Tavern.

“Ten years give or take,” Lou answered, holding the door for her.

The tavern was beamed and dimly lit, with dark paneling throughout. The bar was impressively stocked, and there were no empty stools. His kind of place. The whole scene was too familiar, and immediately started tapes running in his head.

“It’s always crowded here this time of day,” Vicki said, speaking loudly enough to be heard above the din. “Between the CDC and area hospitals, the owner is probably a millionaire many times over.”

“Judging by all those steins, I might say that what Sam Scupman is to bacteria, this guy is to beer. Only a beer obsession pays better.”

Vicki returned a serious look.

“You don’t do my job for the money,” she said. “Sam and I at least have that much in common.”

At Lou’s request, a hostess led them to a booth in the dining area away from the noisy bar. They slid in across from each other and scanned the laminated menus. Bob Seger’s mildly depressing “Turn the Page” was playing on the jukebox.

Here I am on the road again.…

“I’ve told you a lot about me,” Lou said, setting his menu aside, “but I hardly know anything about you.”

Vicki appraised him thoughtfully.

“I usually don’t talk much about myself,” she explained.

“Up to you, but I could sure use the distraction.”

Before she could respond, the waitress, young and perky and in her early twenties, came over.

“Something to drink?” she asked.

Vicki looked across at Lou for permission, and he shrugged and nodded that it was okay.

He also subconsciously ran his tongue across his lips.

“Jim Beam and water,” she said. “A little bit of extra ice.”

“A bourbon girl. A lady after my old heart.”