"Can't you two be more quiet?" Nikki said. "I'm trying to read."
"I'm not hysterical!" Angela snapped sotto voce. "I'm just stressed out. I don't like depending on others to do my work. And on top of that, Nikki had some disturbing news today."
"Like what?" David asked.
"Ask her," Angela said.
David slipped off the barstool and squeezed into one of the dining-room chairs. Nikki told him about her day. Angela came into the room and began setting the table around Nikki's books.
"Are you still as supportive of public school when you hear about guns and drugs in the sixth grade?" Angela asked.
"Public schools have to be supported," David said. "I went to public school."
"Times have changed," Angela said.
"If people like us run away," David said, "the schools don't have a chance."
"I'm not willing to be idealistic when it comes to my daughter's safety," Angela snapped.
Once dinner was ready, they ate their spaghetti marinara and salads in strained silence. Nikki continued to read, ignoring her parents. Angela sighed loudly several times and ran her fingers through her hair. She was on the verge of tears. David fumed. After working as hard as he had for the previous thirty-six hours he did not think he deserved this kind of treatment.
Angela suddenly scraped back her chair, picked up her dish, and dropped it into the sink. It broke and both David and Nikki jumped.
"Angela," David said, struggling to keep his voice under control. "You're being overly emotional. Let's talk about picking Nikki up. There has to be another solution."
Angela wiped a few wayward tears from the corners of her eyes. She resisted the temptation to lash back at David and tell him that his conception of himself as the rational, agreeable partner was hardly reality.
Angela turned around from facing the sink. "You know," she said, "the real problem is that we have been avoiding making a decision about what to do come July first."
"I hardly think this is the opportune time to discuss what we are going to do with the rest of our lives," David said. "We're exhausted."
"Oh, beans," Angela said. She returned to the table and took her seat. "You never think it's the right time. The problem is time is running out, and no decision is a decision of sorts. July first is less than a month and a half away."
"Okay," David said with resignation. "Let me get my lists." He started to get up. Angela restrained him.
"We hardly need your lists," Angela said. "We have three choices. We've been waiting for New York to respond and they did three days ago. Here are our choices in a nutshelclass="underline" we can go to New York and I'll start a fellowship in forensics and you in respiratory medicine; we can stay here in Boston where I'll do forensics and you'll go to the Harvard School of Public Health; or we can go to Bartlet and start to work."
David ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. He tried to think. He was numb from fatigue. He wanted his lists, but Angela still had a hold on his arm.
"It's a little scary leaving academia," David said finally.
"I couldn't agree more," Angela said. "We've been students for so long it's hard to think of any other life."
"It's true we've had little personal time over these last four years," he said.
"Quality of life has to become an issue at some point," Angela agreed. "The reality is that if we stay here in Boston we'll probably have to stay in this apartment. We have too much debt to do anything else."
"It would be about the same if we went to New York," David said.
"Unless we accepted help from my parents," Angela said.
"We've avoided that in the past," David reminded her. "There have always been too many strings attached to their help."
"I agree," Angela said. "Another thing that we have to consider is Nikki's condition."
"I want a dog," Nikki said.
"Nikki's been doing okay," David said.
"But there's a lot of pollution here and in New York," Angela said. "That's bound to take its toll. And I'm getting pretty tired of all the crime here in the city."
"Are you saying you want to go to Bartlet?" David asked.
"No," Angela said, "I'm just trying to think of all the issues. But I have to admit, when I hear about guns and drugs in the sixth grade, Bartlet starts to sound better and better."
"I wonder if it is as heavenly as we remember," David questioned. "Since we go so few places maybe we've idealized it too much."
"There's one way to find out," Angela said.
"Let's go back!" Nikki cried.
"All right," David said. "Today's Thursday. How about Saturday?"
"Sounds good to me," Angela said.
"Yippee!" Nikki said.
4
Traynor signed all the letters he'd dictated that morning and piled them neatly on the corner of his desk. Eagerly he got up and pulled on his coat. He was on his way through the outer office en route to the Iron Horse for lunch when his secretary, Collette, called him back to take a call from Tom Baringer.
Muttering under his breath, Traynor returned to his desk. Tom was too important a client to miss his call.
"You'll never guess where I am," Tom said. "I'm in the emergency room waiting for Dr. Portland to come in to put me back together."
"My God, what happened?" Traynor asked.
"Something stupid," Tom admitted. "I was cleaning some leaves out of my gutters when the ladder I was on fell over. I broke my damn hip. At least that's what the doctor tells me here in the emergency room."
"I'm sorry," Traynor said.
"Oh, it could be worse," Tom said. "But obviously I won't be able to make the meeting we had scheduled for this afternoon."
"Of course," Traynor said. "Was there something important you wanted to discuss?"
"It can wait," Tom said. "But listen, as long as I have you on the phone, how about giving the powers that be here at the hospital a call. I figure I deserve some VIP attention."
"You got it," Traynor said. "I'll see to it personally. I'm just on my way out to have lunch with the hospital's CEO."
"Good timing," Tom said. "Put in the good word."
After hanging up, Traynor told his secretary to cancel Tom's appointment and leave the slot open. The break would give him a chance to catch up on dictation.
Traynor was first to arrive for his luncheon meeting. After ordering a dry martini, he scanned the beam-ceilinged room. As usual of late, he'd been given the best table in the house, one in a cozy bay with a particularly dramatic view of the Roaring River which raced past the rear of the inn. Traynor's pleasure was enhanced when he saw Jeb Wiggins, his old rival and a scion of one of the few old moneyed families of Bartlet, sitting at a far less conspicuous table. Jeb had always treated Traynor with condescension. Traynor's father had worked in the coat-hanger factory, which at that time had been one of the Wigginses' holdings. Traynor relished the role reversaclass="underline" now he was running the biggest business in town.
Helen Beaton and Barton Sherwood arrived together. "Sorry we're late," Sherwood said, holding back Beaton's chair.
Beaton and Sherwood were served their usual drinks and they all ordered their meals. As soon as the waiter left them, Beaton spoke: "I have some good news. I met with Charles Kelley this morning, and he has no problem with our idea of instituting a bonus program for the CMV doctors. His only concern is whether it would cost CMV anything, which it won't. He promised to run the idea past his bosses, but I don't anticipate any problem."
"Wonderful," Traynor said.
"We'll be meeting again on Monday," Beaton added. "I'd like you to attend if you have the time."
"By all means," Traynor said.
"Now all we need is the start-up capital," Beaton said. "So I met with Barton and I think we have it solved." Beaton gave Sherwood's arm a squeeze.
Sherwood leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones: "Remember that small slush fund we'd created with the kickbacks from the construction on the radiotherapy building? I'd deposited it in the Bahamas. What I'll do is bring it back in small increments as needed. Also we can use some of it for vacations in the Bahamas. That's the easiest. We can even pay for the air tickets in the Bahamas."