“Let her audition,” said Timothy. “The chances are so small that she’ll get an offer. It’s just more good experience.”
She got an offer.
“No,” said Amy. “Absolutely not, sweetheart. I’m sorry. But we’re not moving to Los Angeles.”
“Why not?” asked Sam.
“Because I have a job! And your father has a job. And Henry made the varsity soccer team. Our lives are here. We can’t just pick up and go to California!”
“Uncle Timmy says I can live with him and Gertie.”
“Negative.”
Then Timothy called her. “Listen, Ame. I know this feels scary to you. But she’s got real talent. I think turning this down would be a mistake.”
Amy helped Sam pack; she flew with her to LAX; she delivered her into the arms of Timothy and Gertie. Amy and Greg and Henry visited at Christmas and again during the school vacation in April. Each time Amy saw Sam she felt as though she’d grown ten months for every one she’d been gone. “What are we going to do?” she asked Greg bleakly. “How will we get her back?”
“It’ll work itself out.”
“In what world do things work themselves out with no help from outside forces?” muttered Amy. Greg was so much more optimistic than Amy.
As it turned out, things did work themselves out. The show ended the following June, when Barry the Bastard informed Amy and Greg thatMy Three Daughtershad not been picked up for another season. He’d already told Sam, but he was giving them a “courtesy call.”
“That’s the bad news,” said Barry.
“What’s the good news?”
“I’ve got a stack of auditions sitting right here,” said Barry. “She can start going out on them as early as tomorrow.”
Greg and Amy discussed it. They wanted Sam home. Amy called Timothy.
Timothy said, “Are you sure? I think she’s got something here.”
“We’re sure,” said Amy. “But Timmy, please don’t tell her this is coming from me, okay? I don’t need a strike in my column before she even gets off the plane. You have to tell her you’re going on location or something.Youhave to give her a reason to come home. I don’t want that to be on me. Promise me?”
“I promise,” said Timothy. “You might regret it someday, but I promise.”
By now Amy has lost track of how much time she’s spent on Memory Lane. She pulls herself back to the present. Kona is still at her feet; Sam is still on Block Island; the world, however slowly, is still turning. But she knows now what she wants to do.
She texts Greg.
I’M TAKING THE JOB.
Despite her efforts to keep cool, a frisson of excitement pops up in the general area of her belly. The smell of the greasepaint, the roar of the crowd. Why the hell not;Anna Kareninacan wait another year.
Sam
Different door this time, but again Sam wakes to a gentle tapping. She pulls herself out of sleep.
“Sammy?” Her uncle, sotto voce.
She considers ignoring him; perhaps he has less endurance in the sport of door knocking than her mother. But her uncle did let her move into this beautiful house—he hadn’t even hesitated; she’d started packing up her things in Narragansett the day she talked to him, and taken the ferry from Point Judith the very next day. The least she can do is answer.
Although now she can’t help wondering: Has she replaced one familial authority figure knocking on her door with another? Is what seemed like a promotion actually a lateral move? After all, she’d barely found a spot for her toothbrush when Uncle Timmy told her that Sam’s mother agreed to take on the job of production manager for the play. Sam has left home for the summer, but in a way home has left home too.
“Yes?” she croaks, her voice scratchy with sleep.
“Going into town,” he says. “I thought you could come with me. We’ll leave in ten minutes.”
