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with Sandra. He was with her Saturday morning. Marie saw them on the street together, and after they separated, he collapsed on the train. So rethink what your dad would do. He might not give a rat’s ass if you went to grad school, Brent,” she said, reverting to her Brooklyn roots. “He’d be with his new wife and family, living in the city.” Pam stopped, shocked at the words she spoke to her children. And then she surprised them further when she said she’d had enough of their disrespect and if they cared so little for what was left of their family, she’d leave for home the next morning. It would be up to them if they ever saw each other again, but she certainly wasn’t coming back to California to be treated in such a way.
    “Wait, Mom! Look, let’s talk this out,” Brent said. Pam wasn’t sure if it was the threat of getting cut off that was frightening him or if he really cared about her. One thing was for certain—she was calling her attorney first thing in the morning to make sure no trust-fund money was available to either child any time soon. God! What a bitch! Is that the only way I can garner any respect from my children? By threating to take their money away? What the hell am I doing? But as much as Pam knew she had crossed a line, she wasn’t going back. Her children had lived a life of luxury and privilege, and if they wanted to be angry at Jack for his reprehensible behavior, so be it. But she was not going to be their whipping boy. She’d apologized to them already, over and over and over again. If they didn’t want to see her again, just say so. But to invite her to fly three thousand miles from home after her sister just died and treat her like this? No way.
    “Lisa, tell her you’re sorry,” Brent demanded. Pam had to hand it to Lisa—she did look worried.
    “I’m sorry, Mom. Don’t leave,” she said. “I know I’m acting like a spoiled brat, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m pissed! I can’t move beyond it like you can. C’est la vie! I want to rehash it, Mom. Brent wants me to just let it go, but I can’t.”
    “You don’t have to let it go yet. But don’t take it out on me. We have to try to get beyond your father and what he did. If we can’t, the anger will destroy us. He’s gone, so it’s not going to hurt him.” Pam wished there were a way she could force her daughter to move on. She wanted to go to Disneyland with her kids, walk on the beach, cook for them again. Next time she visited, she’d stay in a hotel. What was the point of this place on the ocean? “Look, can’t we do something together today? I feel like going to Knott’s Berry Farm. Or Disney. I want to laugh.” What a simpleton .
    “Mom’s right,” Brent said. “We only a have a few days together, so let’s do something fun. Anyone feel like learning to surf?” Pam was game; what was the point of preserving her hairdo? Her heart wasn’t it in the visit anymore, and she was rather sick and tired of her kids, but some fun might switch things around for them. She had nothing to lose.

Chapter 7
    S teve Marks and Carolyn Fitzsimmons had worked together for years before their company was bought out and they made the switch as a group to the midtown office where Marie Fabian also worked. Every morning when Steve kissed his daughter, Miranda goodbye and said goodbye to Nelda, he thought of one thing: If he hadn’t pursued Marie, none of this would’ve happened. Not that he didn’t love Miranda with all of his heart and soul. She was the only child he would ever have. It wasn’t even that having her meant he would have to continue working and trying to keep his alcoholic head above water. It took all of his resolve not to share a bottle of scotch with Nelda every night; she was more than willing.
    “We should try to stay sober in case the baby wakes up,” he used to say. Now it was “in case Miranda wakes up.” He didn’t want his kid exposed to a drunken parent and grandparent so