Pam sipped some cocoa and her eyes looked everywhere but at Sachs’s. ‘So, here’s the thing, Amelia. Something I wanted to talk about with you.’ Smiling. Smiling too much. Sachs grew nervous. She too took a sip. Didn’t taste a bit of the rich brew. She thought immediately: Pregnant?

Of course. That was it.

Sachs stifled her anger. Why hadn’t they been careful? Why—?

‘I’m not going to have a baby. Relax.’

Sachs did. Coughed a brief laugh. She wondered if her body language was that readable.

‘But Seth and me? We’re moving in together.’

This soon? Still, Sachs kept the smile on her face. Was it just as fake as the teenager’s?

‘Are you now? Well. That’s exciting news.’

Pam laughed, apparently at the disconnect between the modifier and Sachs’s less-than-excited expression. ‘Look, Amelia. We’re not getting married. Just, it’s time for this to happen. I feel it. He feels it. It’s just right. We’re like totally compatible. He knows me, really knows me. There’re times I don’t even have to say anything and he knows what I’m thinking. And he’s just so nice, you know?’

‘It’s kind of fast, don’t you think, honey?’

Pam’s enthusiasm, the sparkle, dimmed. Sachs recalled that her mother, who’d beaten the girl and locked her in a closet for hours on end, had called her ‘honey’, and Pam had grown to hate the endearment. Sachs regretted using it but she’d been flustered and forgotten the word was tainted.

She tried again. ‘Pam, he’s a great guy. Lincoln and I both think so.’

This was true.

But Sachs couldn’t stop herself. ‘It’s just, I mean, don’t you really think it’d be better to wait? What’s the hurry? Just hang out, date. Spend the night … Go away on a trip.’

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.’