Shock

Unfortunately, reality did not live up to his fantasy. He was able to play a lot of golf, but his competitively busy mind found it less fulfilling than he would have liked over the long haul, especially since he could never rise above an irritating level of mediocrity. Spencer considered himself a wi

And the idea of writing turned out to be even more of a bust. He discovered it was harder work than he'd envisioned, and it required a degree of discipline he did not have. But worse yet, there was no immediate positive feedback like he'd gotten seeing patients. Consequently and rather quickly he gave up the novel-movie idea as not suitable for his more active personality.

The social situation was the biggest disappointment. Throughout most of his life, Spencer had felt he'd had to sacrifice experiencing the kind of lifestyle his looks and talents should have provided. He'd married in medical school, mostly out of loneliness, a woman whom he came to recognize as beneath him both intellectually and socially. Once the children, which had come early, were off to college, Spencer had divorced. Luckily it had been before the Wingate Infertility Clinic had taken off. The wife had gotten the house, which had been no great shakes, and a one-time payment.

"Dr. Wingate?" the pilot called over his shoulder. "Should I radio ahead for ground transportation?"

"My car should be there," Spencer yelled back. "Have them bring it out on the tarmac."

"Aye, aye, sir!" the pilot answered.

Spencer went back to his musings. Although there'd been no dearth of beautiful women in Naples, he had trouble meeting them, and those he did meet were difficult to impress. Although Spencer thought himself rich, in Naples there was always someone a quantum leap ahead in both wealth and the trappings that came with it.

So the only part of Spencer's original retirement dream that had come to pass was the opportunity to relax. But even that had become old after the first season, and hardly fulfilling. Then came the news begi

"They tell me your car is already in front of the JetSmart Aviation building," the pilot called back to Spencer. "And buckle up. We're begi

Spencer flashed the pilot a thumbs-up sign. His seat belt was already fastened. Glancing out the window as they came in for the touchdown, he saw his burgundy Bentley convertible gleaming in the morning sun. He loved the car. Vaguely he wondered if he shouldn't have taken it to Naples. Perhaps with it he would have had better luck with the ladies.

SPRING WAS A SEASON WHICH JOANNA HAD ALWAYS LOVED with its flowers and with its promise of warm, soft summer evenings to come. Spring had always arrived early in Houston with an avalanche of color that overnight transformed the dull, flat landscape into a fairyland of azaleas, tulips, and dogwoods. As she drove northwest out of Boston on the way to Bookford she tried to concentrate on such happy remembrances and the euphoria they engendered, but it wasn't easy.

First of all there were few flowers in evidence and hence not much color save for the green grass and the light green of the budding trees. Second of all she was irritated at Deborah, who was sitting next to her and happily singing along with the radio tuned to soft rock. Although her roommate had promised I'm not going to go that far with her disguise, in Joa

"I seriously doubt you are going to get a job,' Joa

Deborah switched her attention from staring out the windshield to her roommate's profile. Although she didn't say anything immediately, she leaned forward and switched off the radio.

Joa

"Is that why you're so quiet?" Deborah asked. "You've not said boo practically since we left this morning."

"You promised me you wouldn't turn this into a joke," Joa

Deborah looked down at her panty-hose-covered knees for a moment. "This is no joke," she said. "This is called taking advantage of an opportunity and having a bit of fun."

"You call it fun, and I call it a study in bad taste."

"That's your taste," Deborah said. "And, ironically, mine too. But not everybody would agree with you, particularly not the male population."

"You don't seriously think men are going to be turned on by your appearance, do you?"

"Actually, I think they will be," Deborah said. "Not all men, mind you, but a lot. I've watched men react to women dressed like this. There's always a reaction, perhaps not for reasons I care about, but nonetheless a reaction, and for once in my life I'm going to experience it."

"I think it's a myth," Joa

"Nah! I don't think it's the same at all," Deborah said with a wave of her hand. "Besides, you're speaking from your old traditional female upbringing with dating serving as a prelude to marriage. Let me remind you yet again that men can look at women and dating as being a game or even a sport. They see it as entertainment, just as, I'd also like to remind you, the modern twenty-first-century woman can."

"I don't want to get into an argument about this issue," Joa

"I disagree on that regard as well," Deborah said. "The perso

"But why even take the chance?" Joa

"The worry was, as you voiced it yourself, whether or not we'd be recognized," Deborah said. "Trust me1. We're not going to be recognized. On top of that we're having a little fun. I'm not going to give up trying to loosen you up and keep you from having a social relapse."

"Oh, sure!" Joa

"All right, mostly for me, but a little for you too."

By the time they got to Bookford and drove through town, Joa