Hi from the author! Whether you've been following this little fic from the start or just ran across it today, congrats on making it this far.

I'd love to hear from you. Anything that does/doesn't work for you about the story? Anything seem out of character? Questions you'd like to see answered in later chapters? Want to have an in-depth discussion of what drives Pamela Isley?

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Your pal in Red Diamond-hood,
areyoukiddingmedude

Pam and Harley looked at each other across the table outside the coffee shop, where Harley was essentially grilling Pam, aggressively pulling her out from behind her carefully constructed defenses. Pam wasn't sure what had prompted the interrogation, but she was going along with it as best she could, feeling that perhaps some transparency would be good at this point.

She took a sip of tea and put the cup back in its saucer, then swirled the tiny spoon around absently.

"The first time I saw you," Pam began, "you made me laugh out loud. And that doesn't happen very often." She got a little bit of a far-off look in her eyes and said, "If I laughed out loud while I was growing up, I'd get a talking-to about appropriate behavior." Her eyes focused on Harley again, and she smiled sadly. "But here you came along, talking about how your name was Hhh the Third, and you were so bubbly and charming and a bit awkward, and so damn pretty, and I felt for once like I wanted to make a connection with someone. Just – just to talk to someone, laugh with them."

"And then our hands touched," Harley murmured.

"Yes," Pam said. "And I felt – I don't know. A spark, a jolt." She hesitated, then decided to forge ahead. "And I won't lie – I was actually flirting with you that day. I still don't know why. I don't flirt. I barely even engage with people. But you had this sort of . . . effect on me. I don't know how to describe it."

She looked down and sighed. This was uncomfortable, but at the same time strangely freeing.

Harley was quiet for a beat, and then said, "I gave you my number, you know."

Pam was glad she was looking down, because the flush that spread to her cheeks would have been a dead giveaway. She managed to squeak out what she hoped was an unaffected "Oh?" Because why did you take her number, Pam? she admonished herself. Even if you didn't know she was Rick's daughter. You knew why she left it, what you both felt.

There were some things she just couldn't admit to, not yet. So she moved on.

"Seeing you at dinner that night was – a shock, to put it mildly. And everything went wrong, and I was incredibly stressed out trying to be a proper hostess and a wife and to balance whatever the thing between us was."

She looked up at Harley now. "And then I walked you out – I'm not even sure why I did that, just felt we needed a moment to talk alone, I guess. I watched you drive away. I stood there on the porch for a long moment, composing myself, and then I went back in.

"Rick was already eating. I served myself a small plate of the stroganoff and got myself a glass of white wine. Rick sort of – apologized for your behavior, while waving it off at the same time? If that makes sense?"

Harley's mouth tightened and she gave a small nod. Pam said, "I got this feeling like he didn't really understand you. And I had no right to think that, no right to say it now –"

At that, Harley reached across the table and grabbed one of Pam's hands in her own. "Stop that. You have every right." Then she seemed to realize where they were and reluctantly let Pam's hand go, slouching back in her chair.

Pam thought, And then I told your dad I wasn't feeling well so I wouldn't have to sleep with him. I went to bed early that night, haunted by dreams of a beautiful blonde with familiar blue eyes.

"And then you wrote me a War and Peace of a text message, and then we met for coffee right here," Harley prompted.

Pam narrowed her eyes at her for the War and Peace comment, but she went on: "You don't know this, but I left that coffee date feeling happier, more comfortable than I had in a long time."

Then she paused. "Why are we doing this?"

"Doing what?" Harley asked innocently, taking another sip of her mocha-whatever.

"This. This weird intervention-slash-making-Pam-tell-all thing."

"Is it bothering you?" Harley said.

"Not really," Pam said. "But it's weird. And I don't know what it's accomplishing."

Harley leaned closer. Her sunglasses slipped down, so she pulled them off and put them on the table. She spoke with a quiet intensity. "Pam . . . you're such a mystery to me. I'm trying to understand you. And in order to do that, I have to get you to open up. So I opted for the direct approach."

"Ah," said Pam. "So you're trying to analyze me."

"Maybe," Harley said with a shrug. Then she waved her hand, the brat, as if to say Please continue.

Pam's mouth quirked, and she picked up the story again. "The next morning, when you texted me about going to the animal shelter, I felt – a little thrill. I didn't hesitate, knew right away the answer was yes."

Then she laughed to herself a little. "I was eager to see you again, so I stupidly only gave myself 30 minutes to get ready and be here waiting. I frantically looked through my wardrobe and finally decided on a more casual black dress – it seemed appropriate for an animal shelter."

Harley grinned. "Is that when I made the cotillion comment?"

"Yes," Pam said. "Thanks for that, by the way." Harley just winked at her in reply.

"And then," said Pam, "you know, at the animal shelter, you were so – you. Saying hi to everyone, they all knew and loved you, you rolled on the floor with the animals and – I couldn't take my eyes off you." She mumbled that last part, looking down at the table once more.

"Then Selina called, a welcome respite, and I went outside to take the call."

"Ohh!" Harley said. "So that's who you were talking to, looking all happy like that!"

Pam looked at her. "Yes, talking to her always relaxes me. She was shocked when I told her I was at an animal shelter – she asked if I was lost, and I told her I was there with you." (Thinking back, Pam realized that Selina had made an annoying, know-it-all little "Hmmmmm" sound – had something in Pam's voice given it away, even before she was aware of it?)

"Can we be done now?" Pam asked. "I don't usually like talking about myself this much."

"Yeah, I worked that one out on my own," Harley said wryly. She reached for Pam's hand again, but this time she stopped herself before touching it. "You did well, though. I believe I have enough to complete my analysis."

"And do I get to hear this analysis?" Pam asked, smiling.

"All in due time, Dr. Isley. All in due time." Harley waggled her eyebrows at Pam, and for a minute the heaviness around her seemed to vanish.

Then she must have seen something over Pam's shoulder, because she jumped a little, then looked at Pam, then at whatever was back there. "I'm – I'm really sorry," Harley stammered, "but I have to go."

"Right now?" Pam said. "But I was just about to tell you my spirit animal!"

That got a smile, at least. "I really am sorry," Harley said. She stood up, then looked at Pam one last time. "By the way," she said, that mischievous look sneaking into her eyes, "next time you're saying yes to a coffee date, maybe don't use the poop emoji."

And then she was gone.

Pam sipped her tea.

"I thought it was chocolate pudding," she said out loud.

She looked around to make sure no one heard her.

She hoped she'd see Harley again soon.

(She wouldn't.)