Coward, Sachs told herself, having given the last two suggestions, since her goal was to wedge some distance between Pam and Seth. She was negotiating against herself.
‘Well, interesting you say that.’
Interesting? Sachs reflected. If she’s not pregnant … Oh, no. Her jaw tightened and the next words confirmed her fear.
‘What we’re going to do is take a year off. We’re going to travel.’
‘Oh. Okay. A year.’ Sachs was simply buying time at this point. She might’ve said, ‘How ’bout them Yankees?’ Or ‘I hear the sleet’s going to break in a day or so.’
Pam pressed forward. ‘He’s sick of copywriting freelance. He’s totally talented. But nobody appreciates him in New York. He doesn’t complain but I can see he’s upset. The ad agencies he works for, they have budget problems. So they can’t hire him full-time. He wants to go places. He’s ambitious. It’s so hard here.’
‘Well, sure. New York is always a tough place to get ahead.’
Pam’s voice hardened as she said, ‘He’s tried. It’s not like he hasn’t tried.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘He’s going to write travel articles. I’m going to help him. I’ve always wanted to travel; we’ve talked about that.’
They had, yes. Except Sachs had always imagined that she and Pam would explore Europe or Asia. Big sister and kid sister. She had a fantasy of touring the parts of Germany her ancestors had come from.
‘But school … The statistics show it’s so hard to come back after dropping out.’
‘Why? What statistics? That doesn’t make sense.’
Okay, Sachs didn’t have any numbers. She was making that up. ‘Hon — Pam, I’m happy for you, both of you. Just, well, you have to understand. This’s a pretty big surprise. Fast, like I was saying. You haven’t known him that long.’
‘A year.’
True. In a way. They’d met last December and dated briefly. Then Seth had gone to England for training with an ad agency planning to open a New York office, and he and Pam had joined the ranks of those keeping a relationship afloat via text, Twitter and email. The company had decided not to venture into the US market, though, and Seth had come back a month ago and resumed free-lance copywriting. Normal dating had resumed.
‘And so what if it’s fast?’ An edge to Pam’s voice again. She’d always had a temper — you couldn’t have her upbringing and not find anger near the surface. But she pulled back. ‘Look, Amelia. Now’s the time to do this. When we’re this age. Later? If we get married and if we have kids?’
Please. Don’t go there.
‘You can’t backpack around Europe then.’
‘What about money? You can’t work over there.’
‘That’s not a problem. He’ll sell his articles. And Seth’s been saving for a while and his parents’re totally rich. They can help us out.’
His mother was a lawyer and father an investment banker, Sachs recalled.
‘And we have the blog. I’ll keep doing that from the road.’
Seth had created a website a few years ago where people could post their support for various social and political issues, mostly left-leaning. Women’s right to choose, support for the arts, gun control. Pam was now more involved than he was in running the site. Yes, it seemed popular, though Sachs estimated that the donations they received totaled about a thousand dollars a year.
‘But … where? What countries? Is it safe?’
‘We don’t know yet. That’s part of the adventure.’
Desperate to buy time, Sachs asked, ‘What do the Olivettis say?’
After Sachs had rescued her the girl had gone into a foster home (which Sachs had checked out as if vetting the president’s personal bodyguard). The temporary parents had been wonderful but at eighteen, last year, Pam had wanted to be on her own and — with Rhyme’s and Sachs’s help — she enrolled in college and got a part-time job. Pam had remained close to her foster mom and dad, though.
‘They’re okay with it.’
But, of course, the Olivettis were professional parents; they’d had no connection with Pam before she’d been placed with them. They hadn’t kicked in a door and saved her from the Bone Collector and a wild dog eager to shake her to death. They hadn’t leapt into a firefight with Pam’s stepfather, who was trying to suffocate her.
And, those traumas aside, it had been Sachs who’d spent a lot more time than the busy foster parents schlepping Pam to and from after-school activities, doctors’ appointments and counselling sessions. And it was the detective who’d used some of the few existing connections from her former fashion model career to get Pam the wardrobe department job on Broadway.
Sachs couldn’t help but note too that the girl had told the Olivettis first about her travel plans.
Come on, I deserve a hearing, Sachs thought.
Which was not, however, Pam’s opinion. She said brusquely, ‘Anyway, we’ve decided.’
Then Pam grew suddenly giddy, though Sachs could see the emotions were fake. That was clear. ‘It’ll be a year. Two, tops.’
Now two?
‘Pam,’ Sachs began. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
Yes, you do. So say it.
As a cop, Sachs never held back. She couldn’t as a big sister either. Or surrogate mother. Or whatever her role in the girl’s life might be.
‘Knuckle time, Pam.’
The girl knew of Sachs’s father’s expression. She gauged Sachs with narrowed eyes, which were both cautious and flinty.
‘A year on the road with somebody you don’t really know?’ Sachs said this evenly, trying to keep some tenderness in the tone.
But the woman responded as if Sachs had thrown open the parlor window and let in a flood of sleety wind. ‘We do know each other,’ Pam said defiantly. ‘That’s the whole point. Didn’t you hear me?’
‘I mean really know each other. That takes years.’
Pam shot back, ‘We’re right for each other. It’s simple.’
‘Have you met his family?’
‘I’ve talked to his mother. She’s totally sweet.’
‘Talked to?’
‘Yes,’ the girl snapped. ‘Talked to. And his father knows all about me.’
‘But you haven’t met them?’
A cool chill. ‘This’s about me and Seth. Not his parents. And this cross-examination is pissing me off.’
‘Pam.’ Sachs leaned forward. She reached for the girl’s hand. It was, of course, eased out of reach. ‘Pam, have you told him about what happened to you?’
‘I have. And he doesn’t care.’
‘Everything? Have you told him everything?’
Pam fell silent and looked down. Then she said defensively, ‘There’s no need to … No, not everything. I told him my mother was crazy and did some bad things. He knows she’s in jail and will be there forever. He’s totally fine with it.’
Then he was from The Walking Dead, Sachs reflected. ‘And where you grew up? How you grew up? Did you tell him any of that?’
‘Not really. But that’s in the past. That’s over with.’
‘I don’t think you can ignore it, Pam. He has to know. Your mother did a lot of damage—’
‘Oh, I’m crazy too? Like my mother? That’s how you look at me?’
Sachs was stung by this comment but she tried to keep a light tone. ‘Come on, you’re saner than any politician in Washington.’ She smiled. It wasn’t reciprocated.
‘There’s nothing wrong with me!’ Pam’s voice rose.
‘Of course not, no! I’m just concerned about you.’