The Select

draw attention to them. She looked well put together, but then watching her fidgety hands he could see the stress she was putting on herself. This test was too important to her. Tim had an urge to put his arm around her shoulder, hug her close, and tell her don't worry. But he didn't know her well enough for that. Yet.

'Didn't you sleep well?' he said.

'Like the dead. Which is weird, because I'm usually up and down all night before a big test. But last night I hit the pillow and that was it till morning. Maybe they put something in the food.'

'Maybe,' Tim said. He'd slept like the proverbial log himself, but he'd expected to. He'd had next to no sleep the night before.

'So we're all well rested,' he said. 'And if you're well fed you'll do better on the test.'

She shook her head. 'My stomach's in a square knot. I—' She broke off and stared toward the far end of the caf. 'Say...isn't he somebody?'

'Most people are,' Tim said, looking around for who she meant.

'No, I mean somebody famous.'

He spotted him. Tall, lean, striding toward the curved stairway with Dr. Alston. Tim lifted his dark glasses for a better look. Strong features, dark hair graying at the temples, distinguished looking in a tailored gray suit.

Matt returned then, carrying a plate heaped with scrambled eggs and hash browns. He cocked his head toward the newcomer.

'Isn't he—?'

At that instant the name clicked. 'Senator Jefferson Stephen Whitney,' Tim said. 'Or I guess I should say, former U.S. Senator Whitney.'

'And I'll bet he was in that private helicopter that just landed,' Quinn said.

Tim nodded. They'd all stood at the windows watching it whir down at the heliport behind the medical center.

The image of an article from The Wall Street Journal flashed before Tim's eyes with a photo. He'd come across it while researching an economics paper on the inflationary recession of the 1970's. He saw the header now:

Sen. Whitney cancels campaign.

Accepts new foundation post.

'He was a hot-shot, young-turk senator in the seventies,' Tim said. 'Made lots of waves in trying to revamp the FDA. Wasn't popular nationally but people in Wisconsin loved him. Looked like he was going to be right up there for a long time, but when it came time for re-election, he opted out and took a position with the Kleederman Foundation. He's been on its Board ever since.'

'That explains why he's here,' Quinn said.

'Right. The Kleederman Foundation is paying for this breakfast we're eating—'

'That two of us are eating,' Matt said pointedly as he eyed Quinn's barely-touched shredded wheat.

'—and all the rest of The Ingraham's bills.'

Dr. Alston and the former senator had mounted the stairway to the landing at the halfway mark and stopped to face the cafeteria. Tim noticed that a microphone and stand had been rigged on the landing.

'Good morning, everyone,' Dr. Alston said. 'I trust you all slept well and are enjoying the breakfast that The Ingraham's staff has prepared for you.'

Polite scattered applause.

'We are privileged this morning to have a surprise visit from former United States Senator Jefferson Whitney, a director of the Kleederman Foundation, the magnanimous organization responsible for the founding and funding of The Ingraham College of Medicine. Senator?'

Tim noted that this round of applause was less scattered and more vigorous. Even he joined in. After all, this guy represented the deep pockets that supported this place.

'Good morning,' Whitney said, flashing an easy-going smile that gleamed even through Tim's shades. 'I know you're all on tenter hooks and anxious to get to the test, and I know I won't have your rapt and undivided attention, so I'll be brief.' Whitney paused, then: 'You see today as an all-important day for your future.'

Tim glanced at Quinn and saw her blond head nod once, almost imperceptibly.

'But you should not lose sight of the fact that this is an important day for The Ingraham as well. You are the cream of the crop. Your college careers are testimonies to your desire to strive for and your ability to achieve excellence. You are the people we want as Ingraham students, as Ingraham graduates. This is not a situation of you, the individual, against us, the institution. We're not trying to keep any of you out. We want you here. We'd love to take you all. We wish we could afford to take you all. Unfortunately, the Kleederman Foundation's funds are finite.

'But for those of you who are accepted, what a world will be opened to you! Not only will you receive the gift of the finest medical education in the world, but you will have a chance to go out and shape the future of American medicine, to make it the model and envy of every country on Earth.

'So I wish you all well in today's examination. And please remember that no matter what happens in the coming months, each and every one of you is already a winner. I know I speak for The Ingraham College of Medicine and the Kleederman Foundation when I say that we are proud of all of you.'

More applause. Tim clapped mechanically.

'Amazing,' he said. 'Platitudes trip off his tongue as if they'd sprung into his mind de novo.'

Quinn looked at him sharply. 'I think it was very nice of him to take the time and come speak to us. I mean we're just applicants. None of us has even been accepted yet. Give him a break, will you?'

Tim winced. He was not scoring points with Quinn.

Why was he attracted to this twitchy, type-A ingenue anyway? She was sweet-looking, bright, and she had a nice butt. So what? The same could be said of plenty of other girls he knew. Obviously she disapproved of him and his style. So what else was new? Plenty of people disapproved of him. He liked it when uptight people disapproved of him. He reveled in it. So why did her little put down bother him?

And why the hell was he racking his brain now for a way to mollify her?

Matt, ever the peacemaker, said, 'Tim doesn't trust politicians.'

'Senator Whitney isn't a politician. He heads a foundation.'

'The fact that everybody still calls him Senator Whitney says something,' Tim said. 'I hear he spends most of his time lobbying his old cronies at the Senate. Once a politician, always a politician.' Tim raised his orange juice glass in Whitney's direction. 'But if he's going to foot the bill for med school for me, he's a prince.'

Another cool look from Quinn. This was going nowhere. He took his empty plate and stood up.

'Seconds anyone?'

*

Tim chewed the eraser on the back end of his #2 pencil as he considered question number 200.

The test was a bitch.

A lot like the MCAT only worse. The biology questions were off the wall. The chemistry questions were even tougher. This baby was out to separate the men from the boys, not to mention the women from the girls.

Tim glanced around. About twenty-five of the hopefuls had been seated in this classroom, the rest were scattered through the class building. Nothing special here. Green chalk board across the front of the room, gray tile floor, overhead fluorescents, a pair of TV monitors suspended from the ceiling, and one-piece desks. Only the life- size skeleton hanging in the rear corner offered any clue that the room was on a medical school campus. In the seat to his left, Quinn's brow was furrowed in concentration as her foot beat a soft, nervous tattoo on the floor. To his right, Matt was hunched over his exam booklet, scribbling figures on his scratch sheets. All around Tim, nervous people trying to score for their future.

He could almost hear them sweat.

Not that Tim was taking this lightly himself. His folks could manage to send him to med school, but it wouldn't be pocket change like for Matt's family—not even close. They'd have to make some sacrifices, maybe get a home equity loan, but they'd find a way to come up with it. And gladly. Still, it would make things a hell of a lot easier for them if Tim got accepted here.

But taking pressure off his family was only part of why he was sweating this exam. A small part. The big part