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patients has had a crisis.”
    “That’s unusual. I thought all doctors were incommunicado if they went out of town.”
    “No,” he replied. “Not real doctors.”
    “Why don’t you just call over to see if you have anymessages?” she suggested, revealing her anxiety at the thought of letting go of the Boss’s medical consultant.
    “Thanks, Toni, but I’m kind of bushed and think I ought to get some sleep. Besides, Mr. Hartnell’s watchful gaze is beginning to give me the willies.” He pointed to a copy of the same photograph he’d seen in the sick man’s bedroom. This time it was placed center stage near the sofa.
    “Well,” she joked, “it’s one way of keeping an eye on your patient. But may I delay your departure with another cup of coffee?”
    “Sure, fine.”
    Moments later, as she was in the kitchen area, the phone rang.
    “My God,” Adam remarked, “your day starts early.”
    She smiled. “No, it’s my evenings that are long. Take it, Adam. My hands are full.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Go on, answer or they’ll hang up.”
    He picked up the receiver, listened for an instant and said, “Are you sure you have the right number?”
    “Who is it?” she asked in a stage whisper.
    Adam covered the phone. “Sounds like a mistake. Some secretary’s asking for ‘Skipper.’ ”
    “Oh,” she said casually, taking the phone from him. “That’s me. It’s my old tomboy nickname.”
    Then, speaking to the caller, “Morning, Cecily, put him right on, please.” She paused for a moment and then exclaimed warmly, “Hi sweetheart, feeling better yet? Yes, I’m here with Dr. Coopersmith. We have to be sure he doesn’t walk under a bus or something. He’s a very precious commodity.”
    She listened for a minute and then asserted, “Yes, yes I
did
notice he’s attractive. What should matter to you is that he really knows his stuff and I honestly think this drug is going to work.”
    Then, abruptly, her voice became severe. “No—you listen to me. You will
not
have guests to dinner, especiallynot in your bedroom. Furthermore, when I get there I’m going to confiscate your booze. Now that you’re going to live, I don’t want you to die from cirrhosis.”
    In another minute they were exchanging kisses down the line. Toni hung up in a buoyant mood.
    “I guess you know who that was?” She smiled.
    “Yeah,” Adam responded, trying to mask his disappointment. “Everybody’s Boss.”
    “Except mine.” Toni grinned.
    “What makes you so special?” Adam asked, with an unmistakable tinge of jealousy.
    “I’m his daughter,” she replied.
    Well, well—Hartnell was her father. That changed things somewhat. No. That changed things completely.
    Except where did “Nielson” come from? That, at least, was a mystery easily dispelled nine hours later when they were returning to the Virginia estate.
    “Mr. Jack Nielson was a childhood folly,” she explained. “We were at law school together, and quite frankly, I think he was more in love with my father’s influence than he was with me. It was the only time the Boss and I disagreed.”
    “You mean he disapproved?”
    “No, as a matter of fact he thought Jack was terrific and practically pushed me into his arms. Anyway, my husband turned out to be such a louse that he was into philandering before we even got back from the honeymoon.”
    “I’m sorry,” Adam commiserated. “I mean, he was pretty stupid.”
    “Well,” she said breezily, “it was what they call a learning experience. And now I’m immunized.”
    “Against what?”
    She looked at the road ahead and then said quietly, “Against emotional involvements.”
    There was a dinner party at the mansion, after all. The only concession the Boss had made to doctor’s orders was that he did not attend in person.
    It was a high-level evening by any standard, a kind of elite circle of courtiers, befitting the nature of the house: two senators, a senior columnist from the
New York