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appreciation from patients. Nowadays you can’t take anything for granted.”
    â€œTimes are a-changing,” Tom agreed. “Especially with managed care and the government teamed up to make us specialists miserable. Sometimes I fantasize about one of the responsible bureaucrats coming to me for a bypass, and I make him get it from a general practitioner.”
    Kim stood up and pulled off his scrub pants. “The sad irony is that all this is happening when we cardiac surgeons have the most to offer the public.”
    Kim was about to toss his pants into the hamper by the door, when the door opened and one of the women anesthesiologists, Dr. Jane Flanagan, stuck her head in. Catching sight of Kim’s skivvy-clad body, she whistled.
    â€œYou came mighty close to having these sweat-soaked pants draped over your noggin,” Kim warned.
    â€œFor such a view it would have been worth it,” Janejoked. “Anyway, I’m here to inform you that your public awaits you out here in the lounge.”
    The door closed and Jane’s perky face disappeared.
    Kim looked at Tom. “Public? What the hell is she talking about?”
    â€œMy guess is you have a visitor,” Tom said. “And the fact that no one has come in here leads me to believe it must be female.”
    Kim stepped over to the cubbyholes filled with scrub tops and bottoms and took a clean set. “What now?” he questioned irritably.
    At the door Kim paused. “If this is Mrs. Arnold, the wife of my last case, I’m going to scream.”
    Kim pushed out into the lounge. Instantly he saw it wasn’t Gertrude Arnold. Instead, Kelly Anderson was at the coffee urn, helping herself to a cup. A few steps behind her was her cameraman with a camcorder balanced on his right shoulder.
    â€œAh, Dr. Reggis,” Kelly exclaimed, catching sight of the surprised and none-too-pleased Kim. “How good of you to come to talk with us.”
    â€œHow the hell did you get in here?” Kim asked with indignation. “And how did you know I was here?” The surgical lounge was like a sanctuary that even nonsurgical doctors were hesitant to violate. For Kim the idea of being confronted by anyone here, much less Kelly Anderson, was too much to bear.
    â€œBrian and I knew you were here thanks to your former wife,” Kelly said. “As for how we got up here, I’m happy to say we were invited and even escorted by Mr. Lindsey Noyes.” Kelly gestured toward a gray-suited gentleman standing in the doorway to the hall who’d hesitated to come in himself. “He’s from the AmeriCare–University Med Center PR department.”
    â€œEvening, Dr. Reggis,” Lindsey said nervously. “We just need a moment of your time. Miss Anderson has graciously decided to do a story commemorating the six-month anniversary of our hospital merger. Of course, we’d like to assist her in any way we can.”
    For a moment Kim’s dark eyes darted back and forth between Kelly and Lindsey. On the spur of the moment he wasn’t certain who irritated him more, the muckraking journalist or the meddlesome administrator. Ultimately he decided he didn’t care. “If you want to help her, then you talk to her,” Kim said before turning to go back into the locker room.
    â€œDr. Reggis, wait!” Kelly blurted. “I’ve already heard the prepared AmeriCare side. We’re interested in your personal view, from the trenches, so to speak.”
    With the locker-room door open a crack, Kim paused and debated. He looked back at Kelly Anderson. “After that piece you did on cardiac surgery, I vowed never to talk to you again.”
    â€œAnd why is that?” Kelly said. “It was an interview. I didn’t put words in your mouth.”
    â€œYou quoted me out of context by editing your questions,” Kim fumed. “And you left out most of the issues I said were of primary