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next to her,” she said to Deanna. “And Jim’s not going to talk to her, either. Ever.”
    This statement set the match to the smoldering embers in triangle number two. Before Deanna could open her mouth, everyone was talking at once. Accusations and bitternessflew through the room. Deanna glanced toward Marshall Pike and was greeted with that same easy smile and a lift of one elegant shoulder.
    “All right.” Deanna pitched her voice over the din as she stepped into the fray. “I’m sure you all have valid points, and quite a bit to say. Why don’t we save it for the show? All of you agreed to come on this morning to tell your sides of the story, and to look for some possible resolutions. I’m sure we can arrange the seating to suit everyone.”
    She ran briskly through the rest of the instructions, controlling the guests in the same way a kindergarten teacher controls recalcitrant five-year-olds. With determined cheerfulness and a firm hand.
    “Now, Mrs. Forrester—Shelly—Jim, Lori, if you’ll all come with me, we’ll get you settled and miked.”
    Ten minutes later, Deanna stepped back into the green room, grateful that no blood had been spilled. While the remaining triangle sat stonily, staring at the television screen, Marshall was up, perusing a tray of pastries.
    “Nicely done, Ms. Reynolds.”
    “Thank you, Dr. Pike.”
    “Marshall.” He chose a cinnamon danish. “It’s a tricky situation. Though the triangle was technically broken when the affair ended, emotionally, morally, even intellectually, it remains.”
    Damn right, she thought. If anyone she loved cheated on her, it would be he who would be broken—in every way. “I suppose you deal with similar situations in your practice.”
    “Often. I decided to focus on the area after my own divorce.” His smile was sweet and sheepish. “For obvious reasons.” He glanced down at her hands, noting that she wore a single ring, a garnet in an antique gold setting on her right hand. “You’re not in the market for my particular skill?”
    “Not at the moment.” Marshall Pike was enormously attractive, she mused—the charming smile, the long, slender build that had even Deanna, who hit five-ten in her heels, tilt her head up to meet the flattering interest in the deep browneyes. But at this moment she needed to focus the lion’s share of her attention on the sullen group behind him.
    “The program will start right after this commercial.” Deanna gestured toward the set. “Marshall, you won’t be going on until the final twenty minutes, but it would help if you’d watch the show to formulate specific advice.”
    “Naturally.” He enjoyed watching her, the way she revved in neutral. He could almost hear the engine gun of her energy. “Don’t worry. I’ve done Angela’s three times.”
    “Ah, a vet. Is there anything I can get you?”
    His eyes slid toward the trio behind him, then came back to Deanna’s. “A flak jacket?”
    She chuckled, gave his arm a squeeze. He’d be just fine, she decided. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    The show proved to be emotional, and though bitter accusations flew, no one was seriously wounded. Off camera, Deanna admired the way Angela kept a light hand on the reins, allowing her guests to go their own way, then easing them back when tempers threatened to boil over.
    She pulled the audience in as well. With an unerring instinct, she offered the mike to just the right person at just the right time, then segued smoothly back to a question or comment of her own.
    As for Dr. Pike, Deanna mused, they couldn’t have chosen a more skilled mediator. He exuded the perfect combination of intellect and compassion, mixed with the concise, teaspoon-size advice so necessary for the medium.
    When the show was over, the Forresters were clutching hands. The other couple had stopped speaking to each other, and the two other women were chatting like old friends.
    Angela had hit the mark again.
     
    “Decide to join