"You didn't lose that much, did you? This is our year."

"But the Vikings say the same thing."

"They were lucky to get past New York."

"The Raiders gave you a brief scare, as I recall."

"They got lucky," Bunker grumbled. "We buried 'em in the second half."

Caroline Ryan and Charlotte Bunker traded a woman-to-woman look: Football! Cathy turned, and there she was. Mrs Bunker made off, while the boys talked about boy things.

Cathy took a deep breath. She wondered if this were the right time and the right place, but she could no more have stopped herself now than she could have given up surgery. She left Jack facing the other way, and headed across the floor in a line as direct as a falcon's.

Dr Elizabeth Elliot was dressed almost identically to Dr Caroline Ryan. The cuts and pleats were a little different, but the expensive garments were close enough to make a fashion editor wonder if they had shopped at the same store. A triple string of pearls graced her neck, and she was talking with two others. Her head turned as she saw the approaching shape.

"Hello, Dr Elliot. You remember me?" Cathy asked with a warm smile.

"No. Should I?"

"Caroline Ryan. That help?"

"Sorry," Liz replied, knowing at once who she was, but not knowing anything else that might be of interest. "Do you know Bob and Libby Holtzman?"

"I've read your material," Cathy said, taking Holtzman's extended hand.

"It's always nice to hear that." Holtzman noted the delicacy of her touch and could feel the guilt shoot up his arm. Was this the woman whose marriage he had attacked? "This is Libby."

"You're a reporter, too," Cathy observed. Libby Holtzman was taller than she, and dressed in an outfit that emphasized her ample bosom. One of hers is worth both of mine, Cathy noted, managing not to sigh. Libby had the sort of bust on which men yearned to lay their heads.

"You operated on a cousin of mine a year or so ago," Libby Holtzman said. "Her mom says you're the best surgeon in the world."

"All doctors love to hear that." Cathy decided that she would like Mrs Holtzman, despite her physical handicap.

"I know you're a surgeon, but where have we met?" Liz Elliot asked, with the offhand interest she might have shown a dog breeder.

"Bennington. In my freshman year, you taught PoliSci 101."

"Is that a fact? I'm surprised you remember." She made it clear that she did not.

"Yes. Well, you know how it is." Cathy smiled. "Freshman Pre-Med is a real bear. We really have to concentrate on the important stuff. So the unimportant courses are all throwaways, easy A's."

Elliot's expression didn't change. "I was never an easy grader."

"Sure you were. It was just a matter of repeating it all back to you." Cathy smiled even more broadly.

Bob Holtzman was tempted to take a step back, but managed not to move at all. His wife's eyes went a touch wider, having caught the signals more quickly than her husband. A war had just begun. It would be nastier than most.