Milly mulled over Lin’s suggestion that he “take out” Pam. It interested her that he wouldn’t take a small lateral step and talk openly. His reticence might stem from caution against eavesdropping, an episode of blackmail in his past, reluctance to confront necessity, an effort to tease or provoke, any number of things. Milly placed this wad firmly in her ruminant disposition for later chewing.
On the question itself, assuming that Lin was serious and not – for example – coat-trailing, Pam was Milly’s counterpart in so many ways that reflecting on her demise carried a strong sense of suicide. An intelligent woman, working alone, Pam had every reason to identify with Milly; the two of them were stronger together than separately. Each could offer advice, comfort, and practical assistance ranging from blue ribbon experts to strong-arm boys. They’d been victims of the same prejudice and insults, usually covert, and fought their way to the top by insulating themselves progressively against the need to consider others’ interests. It didn’t contradict this rational succession that both Pam and Milly served others as acolytes until they replaced their mentors or hopped onto faster rising escalators. The differences between them amounted to an image and its mirrored reflection.
