Mallory stands up. “I’m going to pick some songs.”

Jake clears his throat. “It’s called The Hours, by Michael Cunningham. Have you read it?”

“No, I haven’t read it,” Coop says. “I don’t read anything for pleasure. I do too much reading for work. So, what, you sent the book to Mal? You two have…a little book group?” Coop laughs at his own joke—but maybe it’s not funny. Maybe Coop should start reading and join a book group. What a great way to meet smart women.

“What do you guys want to hear?” Mallory asks. She’s standing at the jukebox. “They don’t have any Cat Stevens.”

“Thank God,” Coop says.

“No Rick Springfield either.”

“Even better,” Coop says.

“Surprise us,” Jake says.

“Yeah,” Coop says. “If you pick something I don’t hate, I’ll be surprised.”

Mallory drops in quarters and starts punching buttons. A second later, there are piano chords, then Paul McCartney’s voice: “Maybe I’m Amazed.” Coop approves, and apparently, so does Jake. He gets to his feet and says, “Dance with me.”

“No,” Mallory says.

“There’s no dancing at PJ’s,” Coop says.

“Just dance with me to this one song,” Jake says.

“No,” Mallory says, but Jake wins her over and they start slow-dancing in front of the jukebox, which is strange, but whatever, they’re all getting drunk and Cooper is distracted anyway because at that moment, his old girlfriend from Goucher, Stacey Patterson, walks into the bar.

Is this a coincidence? No; Cooper did some investigative work and learned that Stacey is VP of marketing for the Baltimore Aquarium and she’s still single. He called information, got her number, and invited her to meet them here.

Stacey is wearing a red wool coat and a houndstooth miniskirt with high black boots. She looks every bit as beautiful as she did in college. Coop hurries over to greet her; they hug. He shepherds her over to the bar and says, “Let’s get you a drink. What would you like?”

“A glass of merlot, please.”

Cooper isn’t sure merlot is a wise choice at a place like PJ’s, but oh, well. Stacey peers over Coop’s shoulder.

“Is that Jake McCloud?” she says. “I haven’t thought about him in years.”

“Yes, it is,” Coop says. “He’ll be psyched to see you.”

“Is that his wife he’s dancing with?” Stacey asks.

“No,” Coop says. “That’s my sister, Mallory.”

“Oh,” Stacey says. “Well, they would make a cute couple.”

Cooper turns to watch Jake and Mallory spinning slowly in front of the jukebox; Mallory’s head rests for a second against Jake’s chest.

They would make a cute couple, Cooper thinks. In another life.

Summer #7: 1999

What are we talking about in 1999? Gun control; Y2K; Kosovo; Napster; John F. Kennedy Jr.; Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda; Egypt Air Flight 990; “I try to say goodbye and I choke”; gun control; Brandi Chastain; The Matrix; Tae Bo; Elián González; Amazon; Jack Kevorkian; Hurricane Floyd; the euro; gun control; violent video games; gun control.

Jake’s memories of Mallory and his anticipation of seeing her—in nine months, in nine weeks, in nine days—serve as the emergency reserve of oxygen in his emotional scuba tank.

Jake has had one hell of a year.

Ursula celebrates her seventh anniversary at the SEC by announcing she’s leaving. If you stay any longer than seven years, the saying goes, you’re there for life. She’s courted all over the city and ends up taking an accelerated partner-track position in mergers and acquisitions at Andrews, Hewitt, and Douglas for a mind-blowing salary and the prospect of an even more mind-blowing bonus.

With Ursula making so much money, Jake decides to quit PharmX, a job he has hated in practice and principle since he started. He’s tired of meeting with congressmen and local lawmakers in an attempt to ease regulations and raise drug prices for the pharmaceutical industry. He tells Ursula he’s quitting, she tells him he’s a fool, he tells her he doesn’t care, and she’s too busy to do battle.

Fine, she says. Don’t come crying to me when you’re sitting home in your boxers watching Montel Williams.

Jake gives his notice, then the next day schedules a root canal; he wants to get it done while he still has full dental. Jake’s boss, Warren, swings by his office more than usual, each time dangling some new enticement to get him to stay—a promotion, a raise, two extra weeks of vacation. (Warren can’t believe Jake McCloud lasted as long as he did in the glad-handing, soul-destroying world of pharmaceutical lobbying. Jake somehow managed to keep his personal integrity intact, fighting only for the drugs he believed in. He has been a tremendous asset all these years, and while Warren is sorry to see Jake go, he’s also cheering for him. His talents can be put to better use.)

When Jake clears out his office, he starts with his top center desk drawer, where he keeps the photograph of Mallory eating noodles and a number 10 envelope that holds three sand dollars and seven fortune-cookie fortunes. He throws the photograph away, telling himself it’s outdated—but it pains him nonetheless. He has looked at the photograph every single day the way other people look at pictures of Caribbean beaches—to remember that there is another world out there, one that provides escape, solace, joy.

He slips the envelope holding the sand dollars and fortunes into a manila envelope stamped INTEROFFICE and secures the metal tabs. He tucks this between drug reports in his briefcase. He nearly laughs at himself for taking this precaution. He could wear the sand dollars on a necklace and Ursula wouldn’t notice.

No sooner does Jake leave PharmX than he gets sick. Really sick—a high fever with aches and chills. He sweats, he’s freezing. He sleeps during the day and is awake in a dazed stupor all night. Ursula is sympathetic at first. Poor baby, she says. She rubs his back and places a bowl of ice cubes on his nightstand. She sleeps on the daybed in the living room because she “can’t afford to catch it.” She works even longer hours than she did for the SEC but Jake gets it, she’s in M and A, it’s a twenty-four-hour thing, plus she wants to make partner so that they can eventually have some kind of life. She asks Mrs. Rowley down the hall to do a pharmacy run—Advil, Tylenol—and she finds a deli that delivers soup.

The phone rings and messages pile up—it’s Cooper, it’s Jake’s mother, it’s Ursula’s mother, it’s Jake’s father, it’s Warren from PharmX, it’s his buddy Cody saying he has a lead for a lobbying job at a “big-time” organization. Jake is too sick to answer. The messages from his parents and Lynette are urging him to go to the doctor. (“Otherwise we’ll fly out there,” his father says, only half kidding. They lost a child, so no illness is taken lightly. But Jake also knows his parents are too busy to fly to Washington, just like Ursula is too busy to take half a day off to accompany him to the emergency room.)