I tilted back my head and closed my eyes in an effort to remember. Then it came to me. Mark. His name was Mark Lancaster.

I set my salad aside, scooping up a kalamata olive and popping it in my mouth. The online telephone listing held dozens of Lancasters, but not a single one with the first name Mark.

I had no way of getting in touch with Leanne, unless I contacted the oncology center at the hospital. That, however, I was reluctant to do, perhaps because of all the memories associated with calling that number. Then again, I didn't have any other option.

I decided to make the call before I lost my nerve.

The receptionist answered in a cool professionalsounding voice that I didn't recognize. I asked to speak to Leanne, giving my name only as Michael, hoping that would alert Leanne to the fact that I'd followed through on our discussion.

I didn't have to wait long. "This is Leanne," she said after picking up.

While I'd made a point of placing the call quickly, I'd neglected to consider what I wanted to say.

"I...didn't get your phone number," I blurted out. "Your home number," I added.

"Is this Michael Everett?"

"Yes. If there's a restriction on personal calls, I apologize."

"No...no, it's fine. I'm taking a late lunch."

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was past one. I had patients waiting. Any moment now, Linda would be knocking on the door to remind me.

"I thought Saturday went well," I said.

"Thanks, but I had lots of help."

Leanne assumed I was referring to the picnic when I was actually talking about our conversation. I can be oblivious, as Hannah frequently--and often laughingly--used to point out. Leanne had done an impressive job of organizing the volunteers and deserved the credit. I'd completely forgotten.

"We discussed getting together," I said.

"Yes..." She sounded almost as hesitant as I did.

"Do you have any particular time in mind?" I realized as soon as I'd asked what a ridiculous question that was. "I mean, is one day better than another for you?" "Not really. What about you?"

"Ah...anytime, really. Well, other than work hours, of course."

"Me, too."

Linda knocked at the closed office door. "I need to go." I got to my feet.

"I should, too."

"Tonight?" I said. "I could do dinner tonight."

"Dinner?"

"So we can talk?" Feeling like a bumbling fool, I pressed my hand to the top of my head. I wasn't sure why, other than to keep my head from exploding before I embarrassed myself further.

"I could meet you after work," she said.

"Sure. Thanks, Leanne." I was about to hang up when she stopped me.

"What time?"

"Oh, yes. Is seven too late for you?"

"No, seven's good. I suppose we should choose a restaurant while we're at it."

"Do you have a preference?"

"No, do you?"

"Not really." My mind whirled with possible suggestions.

"We could always meet at Ivar's on the waterfront."

"Fine. See you there." My office and the hospital were both in downtown Seattle, so we could walk to the waterfront without the bother of moving our cars. The fish-andchip place was a well-known northwest institution and served great food. Dining was casual. We could order at the counter and then sit at one of the picnic-style tables that lined the pier. We wouldn't have a waiter fussing over us and could come and go as we pleased.

Linda knocked a second time, reminding me once again that I had patients waiting. "I'll see you at seven," I said. I started to hang up when I heard Leanne call my name.

"Yes?" I said, eager now to get off the line.

"I just wanted to thank you for taking the initiative and contacting me. I wasn't sure I'd hear from you and...I guess I wanted you to know I'm happy you called."

"Oh... Me, too," I mumbled.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flash. I refused to let myself dwell on the awkward conversation with Leanne. We'd make quite the couple, both of us out of practice when it came to establishing a relationship. But friendship would be enough, I told myself. Friendship was all I really wanted for now.

My staff had left the office by five-thirty. Since I generally stayed later to finish up paperwork and read over lab results, I sat in my office and made a genuine attempt to concentrate. Yet all I could think about was my dinner date with Leanne.

I'd made a mistake earlier when I'd called and hadn't figured out what to say. This time I was determined that wouldn't happen. Retrieving a pad from my desk drawer, I planned to write out a list of topics we might discuss. I thought of this as a cheat sheet--and frankly I needed one.

Naturally, we'd talk about Hannah. Well, I'd want to talk about her at any rate and I'd be a willing listener if Leanne chose to enlighten me about her divorce. There'd be any number of medical professionals we both knew, including Patrick, and I wrote down several colleagues' names.

So far, my list contained three items. It was a start; I hoped Leanne wouldn't rely on me to carry the conversation. I wasn't good at that. Winter, Hannah's cousin, had made our brief meeting relatively painless. I hoped that would be the case with this evening, too.

I gave myself fifteen minutes to make the short trek down the hill from Fifth to the waterfront. Summer was fast approaching, and in a few weeks the Seattle waterfront would be crowded with tourists, many of whom come here a day or two in advance of boarding cruise ships that would sail up the Inside Passage to Alaska.

Hannah and I had always dreamed of taking that cruise. Medical-school bills and the cost of joining an established practice had prohibited such luxuries. After that, our schedules interfered and then Hannah's illness....

I approached the ferry terminal and had to wait while a line of cars disembarked. Ivar's was just down the street and I saw that Leanne had arrived before me. She noticed me at the same time and waved.

I waved back and my stomach tightened. A surge of panic went through me until I felt the wadded-up list in my pocket.

Once the sidewalk was clear, I walked over. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me," I said. Smiling at her, I suddenly realized what an attractive woman she was.

"Thank you for asking me," she said.

I'd already lost my train of thought. We stood, uncomfortably silent, until Leanne said, "Should we order?"

I wished now that I'd suggested a restaurant with a bar. A glass of wine would've helped us both relax.

"Okay." This wasn't a hopeful beginning. We lined up and I studied the menu, listed on a board above the counter. "What would you like?" Thankfully I had the presence of mind to ask.

"I love Ivar's clam chowder," she said.

"That's all you want?"

"I'll have it in a bread bowl."

That sounded good to me, too. The thick chowder was ladled into large sourdough buns, which then served as part of the meal. I doubted I'd eat much, considering how unsettled I was. I felt the same way I had the first time I'd asked a girl out on a date. I'd been fifteen.

I paid for our order, then carried the tray to the adjacent area where picnic tables were set up. We sat for a moment and neither of us seemed inclined to eat or speak. We did a fairly good job of not looking at each other.

Leanne reached for her spoon and I reached for mine. She took her first bite and I did, too. Then she set the plastic spoon down on her paper napkin.

She finally looked at me. "I suppose you want to know about Mark."

I met her gaze head-on, unsure why she'd introduced the subject of her husband so soon. At some point in the evening I'd expected her to mention him, but leading off with Mark as the main topic was disconcerting.

"Everyone wants to know," she elaborated. "It's probably best to get it out of the way."

"Okay," I said and gestured toward her. "If that's what you want."

"It isn't, but it's only fair to tell you that he's done his time in prison and...and moved on with his life."

I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

Leanne lowered her eyes. "As I said, he's gotten on with his life. I...I guess I should, too."

Chapter Thirteen

"Mark's stealing from the hospital was the worst shock of my life," Leanne said. She'd stopped eating. "I knew something wasn't right just from the way he behaved after the charity event, but he wouldn't talk about it. I assumed it had to do with his job, but I wish I'd...asked more questions."

I understood that better than she realized. "I'm a physician. Although I couldn't have

known Hannah had cancer, I feel I should've at least suspected she wasn't well." I saw the sympathy in Leanne's eyes. "You can't blame yourself any more than I can take responsibility for what Mark did."

I knew that; nevertheless I did blame myself. I'd been so wrapped up in my own career, in my own needs and wants, in our shared comforts and routines, it never occurred to me that anything might be wrong with my wife. As a husband and a doctor, I couldn't help feeling that I'd failed Hannah.

Consequently I'd failed myself, too. I wasn't sure I could ever get over the guilt of that, irrational though it undoubtedly was. Hannah would be the first to reassure me. Again and again she'd reminded me that ovarian cancer is difficult to detect and there are few, if any, symptoms. There was no reason--no unusual fatigue, no pain or nausea, no family history, nothing--to suggest she might have this disease.

"You must've been surprised when Mark was arrested," I said, preferring not to discuss Hannah, even though I'd assumed we would.

"I was speechless." Leanne shook her head. "His parents, too. I think what confused me the most was the fact that Mark's one of the most honorable people I know. He has...had more integrity than any other man I'd met."

"You're still in love with him?" I asked, although the answer was obvious.

Reluctantly, Leanne nodded. "Although I don't really want to be... As you can imagine, I was outraged and embarrassed. Mark refused to explain himself, so I felt I had no option other than to file for divorce. I...I wish I'd waited--knowing what I do now." She paused, closing her eyes. "Still, after recent...revelations, perhaps I made the right decision, after all."

"Was Mark involved with someone else?" It was a painful question and I could see from the way she flinched that I'd touched the emotional equivalent of a bruise.

"I'm positive he wasn't. Mark might've been able to deceive me when it came to embezzlement, but not...our marriage." She sent me an agonized look.

I leaned over to lightly clasp her hand, releasing it after a few seconds.

"In my heart of hearts I have to believe he was faithful during our marriage...but I don't know about now. He might be seeing someone else, although I don't really think so. If he was dating again, I'm sure his mother would've told me. We're still in touch."

"Did Mark want the divorce?" To me, it didn't make sense that he'd throw away his marriage, along with his freedom and his career.

"Apparently. He certainly didn't resist when I told him that was what I wanted. He signed the final papers without a second's hesitation."

That must've been devastating to Leanne. "He probably didn't want you involved in his legal troubles," I offered as a possible explanation.