“Because we didn’t lose a patient on the service last month.”

I will not apologize, he thought. “That means I owe you all a party.”

Lee nodded. “You or Silverstone.”

“I’ll give it,” Meomartino said. “I have an apartment.”

“Adam also now has an apartment, I understand,” Lee said. “At least, he doesn’t live in the hospital anymore.”

So that is where Liz goes, Meomartino thought numbly.

Lee smiled. “Une nécessité d’amour, perhaps. Even on Formosa we have such arrangements.”

Meomartino realized to his annoyance that with the ball of his thumb he was rubbing the angels on the pocket watch again.

“You can spread the word,” he said. “The party’s on me.”

Liz was delighted.

“Oh, I love parties! I’ll be the kind of hostess who will get you Uncle Harland’s job when he retires,” she said, immediately curling the long legs under her on the couch and filling a scratch pad with lists of things to be attended to, liquor, canapes, flowers, help . . .

He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that most of the people on the service were not accustomed to large flower bills or servant fees when they entertained one another.

“Let’s keep it simple,” he said. They compromised on a bartender and Helga, the woman who worked for them regularly on a part-time basis.

“Liz,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t . . .”

“I won’t drink a thing.”

“There’s no need for that. Just don’t overdo.”

“Not a thing. You must allow me to do that. I want to prove myself to you,” she said.

The truce with death didn’t last. On Friday, the day before the party, Melanie Bergstrom developed pneumonia. In the face of a soaring temperature and evidence that both lungs were involved, Kender filled her with antibiotics.

Peggy Weld sat next to her sister’s bed and held her hand under the bottom of the oxygen tent. He found excuses to enter the room but Peggy was not interested in him. Her eyes were fixed on her sister’s face. He heard conversation only once.

“Hang tough, baby,” Peggy commanded.

Melanie licked lips dried by her labored breathing. “You’ll take care of them?”

The oxygen hiss was loud.

“What?”

“Ted and the girls.”

“Listen,” Peggy snarled, “I’ve done your dirty work all your life. You’ll take care of them yourself.”

Melanie smiled. “Ah, Peg.”

“You’re not going to give in to this thing!”

But she died in Intensive Care early the next morning.

It was discovered by Joan Anderson, the little blonde probationer. The student nurse was calm and lucid, but after she had reported to Meomartino she began to tremble.

“Send her home,” he told Miss Fultz.