"Dr. Panzella. Welcome." A third person was in the room, a short, compact, darkhaired woman of about forty. She introduced herself.

"Hello, Dr. Panzella, " she said, extending her hand. She had a warm, easy smile and bright brown eyff. Gin liked her immediately. "I'm Alicia Downs, the senator's press secretary."

"Gin. Please call me Gin."

"All right, Gin, " the senator said. "Pull up a chair. I hope you don't mind if we get right down to business. Senator Moynihan moved a five o'clock budget briefing up to four-thirty, so time is short." He seated himself in the straight-backed chair behind the desk and cleared the files from his desk blotter. Gin took one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk, Alicia took the other. Blair stayed on his feet, hovering. Positioning himself where he could get a good look at her legs, maybe?

"I can't help being intrigued by the fact that a young physician with your qualifications would want this position, " he said. "I'd say you were overqualified. What is it you hope to accomplish here? " Here we go again, Gin thought.

She went into her spiel of how she thought the impact of the Medical Ethics and Practice Guidelines Act would be so far-reaching, so important to the future of medical practice, that she couldn't sit idly by without attempting to have some input.

"You can't have guidelines that smother individuality, " she concluded.

"Do you want all doctors to be exactly the same? I hope not. Minimum standards of training and care, sure. But then allow variety in style of practice. Each practice should have its own personality, otherwise you've deprived patients of a critically important choice." The senator studied her a moment in silence, his blue eyes intent on her.

Gin was beginning to feel uncomfortable when finally he spoke.

"You realize that this is a part-time position for which I doubt we'll be able to squeeze twenty thousand, if that, out of the budget." '"I explained that to her, Senator, " Blair said. He seemed vaguely anxious, while not actually moving, he seemed to be pacing in place.

"The money's not important, " she said. "I've-got the rest of my life to make money. This is a chance to matter, to be part of something that will affect the rest of my professional life. If I were already in practice, with a mortgage, kids in school, I wouldn't be able to drop everything and devote months to this committee. But I'm not.

There's only me to worry about. This is something I want to do, something I can do, and do well. And if I don't do it now, I'll never do it. And. . . ", dare she say it? , "your committee will be poorer for it."

"Is that so? " Senator Marsden said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Blair bite his upper lip and ever so slightly shake his head.

Had she overplayed it? "At least that's my opinion."

"Yes, well, you may have a point there. Will you give me a day to make a final decision? " "Of course." Do I have a choice?

'"Fine." He glanced at his watch, rose, and extended his hand.

"Sorry to cut this short, but that budget briefing, you know." Gin smiled as she shook his hand. "I understand."

"I'll walk you out, " Alicia said.

Gin glanced back as she exited and saw Joe Blair leaning over the senator's desk, yammering in a low voice.

'"I don't think your chief of staff is in my corner, " Gin said as she and Alicia wound through the cubicles.

Alicia snorted. "Joe's a dickhead. He's pissed because he already told the senator you're not right for the job but the boss wanted to meet you anyway."

"So he's back there now trying to scuttle me? " "Maybe. Don't take it personally. He's a control freak. Wants it to be his staff, handpicked by Joe Blair."

"Fair enough, guess, " Gin said with far more equanimity than she felt.

"Maybe, but he's still a dickhead."

"Gin! " She was almost to the elevators. She turned and saw Joe Blair hurrying after her.

"Glad I caught you, " he said as he reached her.

"What's up? ' she said, watching him closely. "Has he made up his mind? " She didn't trust this guy. And there was something in his eyes .

. .

"Despite my strong recommendation, the senator's still undecided. More of a budgeting problem than any difficulty with your qualifications.

" He unfolded the piece of paper in his hand and passed it to her.

"But we need to figure out how to respond when he sees this." We?

Gin thought. Since when are we a we?

She looked at the sheet and suppressed a groan. It was a Xerox of an article she'd written for the New Orleans TimesPicayvne during the second year of her residency. She'd been in a particularly grouchy mood after reading that paper's series on what was wrong with American medicine. She'd fired off a long letter vehemently disagreeing with their delineation of the problems and the proposed solutions. The paper told her if she'd expand it they'd publish it as an op-ed piece.

Giddy with the prospect of having an audience, Gin had fired all her guns, sparing no one. It was a diatribe Duncan himself would have been proud of.

But . . . a very negative, even strident article, with no attempt at a balanced argument, and she'd cringed when she'd reread it on the day it was published. If only she'd put it in a drawer for a week before sending it in, she certainly would have leavened some of her remarks.

She hadn't given it much thought since, and yet here it was, resurrected and staring her in the face.

"This isn't really me, " she said.

"I'm sure it isn't." Blair touched her hand solicitously. "But we've got to do some brainstorming to assess our options if it reaches the senator's desk." She backed up an inch and his hand broke contact.

There it was again, we.

"What do you suggest? " "Oh, " he said so casually, "how about my place? Tonight. And wear something nice." Gin felt her hands close into fists. She wanted to ram one of them into his nose, and then yank out that wimpy mustache one hair at a time

"Sorry, " she said calmly, moving her jaw so she wouldn't be talking through gritted teeth. "I've got plans for tonight."

"Tomorrow night, then. We haven't much time" We have no time

She regarded him coolly, levelly. "Nope. Sorry. I'm busy. Tonight, tomorrow night, every night. ' He stared back at her, obviously confused. Then his eyes narrowed, but only for a second. He shrugged carelessly and turned away.

"Okay, " he said over his shoulder. "Your loss. But don't say I didn't offer to help."

"I won't, " she said softly as she stretched a trembling finger toward the DOWN button.

She dammed up the rage and humiliation as she waited. It wasn't supposed to be like this, wasn't supposed to work this way.

The car finally came, the doors closed behind her and the box began its slow fall. Alone, sealed off, she wanted to scream, wanted to sob.

She did neither. She wiped a single tear from her right eye and whispered one word.

"Damn." She found Gerry waiting for her in the atrium. She forced a smile and hoped her eyes weren't red.

"What are you doing here? " "Waiting for you. What else? " He looked good. Even at the end of a workday with a little five-o'clock shadow stippling his cheeks, he looked damn good. But the excitement Gin had felt the last couple of times they were together was missing today.

She didn't want to be with anyone now.

"But how did you know? " "You told me. Remember? On the phone?

Maybe five hours ago? " "Oh. Right." Her mind wasn't working too well at the moment.

"So how about a drink? " A polite demurral began in her throat but she held it back. She'd been injured and her instincts urged her to retreat to a corner and be alone.