Chet opened his hands palms up like a supplicant priest. “That’s politics,” he said.

“I think it’s awful,” Terese said.

“Life’s not fair,” Jack said.

After dessert and coffee Chet and Colleen began campaigning to go someplace where there was dancing, like the China Club. Both Terese and Jack were disinclined. Chet and Colleen tried their best to change their minds, but they soon gave up.

“You guys go,” Terese said.

“Are you sure?” Colleen asked.

“We wouldn’t want to hold you back,” Jack said.

Colleen looked at Chet.

“Let’s go for it,” Chet said.

Outside the restaurant Chet and Colleen happily piled into a cab. Jack and Terese waved as they drove off.

“I hope they enjoy themselves,” Terese said. “I couldn’t have thought of anything worse. Sitting in a smoke-filled nightclub assaulted by music loud enough to damage my ears is not my idea of pleasure.”

“At least we’ve finally found something we can agree on,” Jack said.

Terese laughed. She was beginning to appreciate Jack’s sense of humor. It wasn’t too dissimilar from her own.

For a moment of self-conscious indecision they stood at the curbside, each looking in a different direction. Second Avenue was alive with revelers despite a nippy temperature in the high thirties. The air was clear and the sky cloudless.

“I think the weatherman forgot it was the first day of spring,” Terese said. She jammed her hands into her coat pockets and hunched up her shoulders.

“We could walk around the corner to that bar where we were last night,” Jack suggested.

“We could,” Terese said. “But I have a better idea. My agency is over on Madison. It’s not too far away. How about a quick visit?”

“You’re inviting me to your office despite knowing how I feel about advertising?” Jack asked.

“I thought it was only medical advertising you were against,” Terese said.

“The truth is I’m not particularly fond of advertising in general,” Jack said. “Last night Chet jumped in before I had a chance to say it.”

“But you’re not opposed to it per se?” Terese questioned.

“Just the medical kind,” Jack said. “For the reasons I gave.”

“Then how about a quick visit? We do a lot more than just medical advertising. You might find it enlightening.”

Jack tried to read the woman behind the soft, pale blue eyes and sensuous mouth. He was confused because the vulnerability they suggested wasn’t in sync with the no-nonsense, goal-oriented, driven woman he suspected she was.

Terese met his stare head-on and smiled back coquettishly. “Be adventuresome!” she challenged.

“Why do I have the feeling you have an ulterior motive?” Jack asked.

“Probably because I do,” Terese freely admitted. “I’d like your advice on a new ad campaign. I wasn’t going to admit you’d been a stimulus for a new idea, but tonight during dinner I changed my mind about telling you.”

“I don’t know whether to feel used or complimented,” Jack said. “How did I happen to give you an idea for an ad?”

“All this talk about plague at the Manhattan General Hospital,” Terese said. “It made me think seriously about the issue of nosocomial infection.”

Jack considered this statement for a moment. Then he asked, “And why did you change your mind about telling me and asking my advice?”

“Because it suddenly dawned on me that you might actually approve of the campaign,” Terese said. “You told me the reason you were against advertising in medicine was because it didn’t address issues of quality. Well, ads concerning nosocomial infections certainly would.”

“I suppose,” Jack said.

“Oh, come on,” Terese said. “Of course it would. If a hospital was proud of its record, why not let the public know?”

“All right,” Jack said. “I give up. Let’s see this office of yours.”

Having made the decision to go, there was the problem of Jack’s bike. At that moment it was locked to a nearby No Parking sign. After a short discussion they decided to leave the bike and go together in a cab. Jack would rescue the bike later on his way home.

With little traffic and a wildly fast and reckless Russian-émigré taxi driver, they arrived at Willow and Heath’s building in minutes. Jack staggered out of the rear of the taxi.

“God!” he said. “People accuse me of taking a risk riding my bike in this city. It’s nothing like riding with that maniac.”

As if to underline Jack’s statement, the cab shot away from the curb and disappeared up Madison Avenue with its tires screeching.

At ten-thirty the office building was locked up tight. Terese used her night key, and they entered. Their heels echoed noisily in the lonely marble hallway. Even the whine of the elevator seemed loud in the stillness.

“Are you here often after hours?” Jack asked.

Terese laughed cynically. “All the time,” she said. “I practically live here.”

They rode up in silence. When the doors opened Jack was shocked to find the floor brightly illuminated and bustling with activity as if it were midday. Toiling figures bent over many of the innumerable drawing boards.

“What do you have, two shifts?” Jack asked.

Terese laughed again. “Of course not,” she said. “These people have been here since early this morning. Advertising is a competitive world. If you want to make it, you have to put in your time. We have several reviews coming up.”

Terese excused herself and walked over to a woman at a nearby drawing table. While they conversed, Jack’s eyes roamed the expansive space. He was surprised there were so few partitions. There was only a handful of separate rooms, which shared a common wall with the bank of elevators.

“Alice is going to bring in some material,” Terese said when she rejoined Jack. “Why don’t we go into Colleen’s office.”

Terese led him into one of the rooms and turned on the lights. It was tiny, windowless, and claustrophobic when compared to the vast undivided space. It was also cluttered with papers, books, magazines, and videotapes. There were several easels set up with thick pads of drawing paper.

“I’m sure Colleen won’t mind if I clear away a little area on her desk,” Terese said as she moved aside stacks of orange-colored tracing paper. Gathering up an armload of books, she set them on the floor. No sooner had she finished than Alice Gerber, another of Terese’s associates, appeared.

After making introductions, Terese had Alice run through a number of the potential commercial ideas they’d comped up that day.

Jack found himself interested more in the process than the content. He’d never stopped to think about how TV commercials were made, and he came to appreciate the creativity involved and the amount of work.

It took Alice a quarter hour to present what she’d brought in. When she was finished, she gathered up the tissues and looked at Terese for further instructions. Terese thanked her and sent her back to her drawing board.

“So there you have it,” Terese said to Jack. “Those’re some of the ideas stemming from this nosocomial infection issue. What do you think?”

“I’m impressed with how hard you work on this sort of thing,” Jack said.

“I’m more interested in your reaction to the content,” Terese said. “What do you think of the idea of Hippocrates coming into the hospital to award it the ‘do no harm’ medal?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t flatter myself to think I have the ability to intelligently critique a commercial.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Terese said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I just want your opinion as a human being. This isn’t an intellectual quiz. What would you think if you saw this commercial on the TV, say when you were watching the Super Bowl?”

“I’d think it was cute,” Jack admitted.

“Would it make you think the National Health hospital might be a good place to go, since its nosocomial infection rates were low?”