Tamsin leaned in the doorway, waiting patiently while Saylor vented. She calmly answered, “I’m off to Olive Branch to mediate a summit meeting between our four neighboring nations who’ve been involved in some kind of armed conflict.”
“Where?” Saylor took a step closer, her peachy face drawn up in confusion. “I never heard of such a place.”
“It’s an independent city in the borderlands between the Mother River and the Burnt Plains.” Tamsin neatly folded the paper and slid it back into the envelope.
“That’s absurd,” Saylor scoffed.
Tamsin pulled a travel bag from her closet and set it on the bed. “It’s a long way, so I need to get going right now.”
“Tell him no, Tam,” Saylor demanded, slamming the bag shut. Her face twisted, fear and anger mixing. “There are plenty of arguments to settle herewithout running across that … do you know what’s out there? Giant scorpions, bandits, cutthroats, barren deserts where the wind blows constantly, and mutants. Mutants, Tam!”
“I’ll take the train to where the line ends and a balloon from there.” She stepped into the bathroom, turned on the water, and squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush. “I’ll never set foot in the Burnt Plains.”
“Well, don’t expect me to be here waiting for you when you get back—do you hear? This is why you’ll never have a functioning relationship—not with me, at least. I mean, you’re heavenly gorgeous, smart as a whip, and fun when you aren’t working. The problem is you’re always working.”
Tamsin brushed her teeth without argument. After rinsing, she flossed.
Saylor’s face reddened as her temper rose. “You never think about how your job affects the people in your life. You drop us at a moment’s notice, like we’re disposable. For someone who’s always pointing out how others need to compromise, you’re unwilling to compromise on a single thing in your own relationships.”
Tamsin moved from the sink to her closet, choosing practical clothes for traveling and something more formal for negotiating. Conservative, but feminine. Authoritative, professional, without appearing rigid. She carried them to the bed.
“Are you even listening to me?” Saylor fumed.
Tamsin took a deep breath and laid the clothes over her bag. She wasn’t in love with Saylor and hadn’t been with anyone, as far as she could tell. But she liked her. Saylor was sexy, fun, and full of energy. They shared enough common interests to be compatible and were different enough to keep things interesting. But she just didn’t understand. She never had.
“I’m listening, sweetie,” she answered, meeting Saylor’s denim-blue eyes. “And I know how you feel. But being a peacemaker isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am. My father is the Chairman. He was governor before that. I have a duty—a responsibility to go where I’m needed. Beyond that, this is my calling. I care about you, even when you think I don’t. If you don’t want to wait a week for me, that’s your decision. But I’m going.”
“It’s not just a week, Tam,” Saylor said, her tone softening from anger to hurt. “It’s all the time. We can barely get through dinner without you rushing off to the next crisis. I have an important job too. My own plumbing business. You don’t see me running out during a play or concert, or packing up in the middle of the night to race to unclog someone’s toilet. I make time for you, for us.”
Tamsin folded her clothes, resigned to where this would end. “Saylor, you think I take you for granted—that I always put work first. I go when and where I’m needed, but not because you mean nothing to me; you do. If a customer has to wait until morning, nobody dies. If I’m late, a war could break out. I won’t apologize for making duty a priority. But I am sorry if it makes you feel unseen. It’s who I am, Saylor, and I won’t change. You knew that.”
Saylor crossed her arms and glowered. “I figured you’d say something like that. I’m the one who’s sorry—I really am—but I can’t live this way. Good luck finding someone who can.”
Saylor, with her cute, bouncy golden curls, strode from the room. She didn’t look back. The front door closed hard, and the cat jumped onto the bed. “Well, Sam,” Tamsin said, rubbing her pet’s head. “I’ll have to find someone else to look after you while I’m gone.”
Sam squeezed his one good eye shut and leaned into Tamsin’s hand, purring his contentment.
“You understand, don’t you?” She picked up Sam, pulled him to her chest, and kissed his head.
Ten minutes later, Tamsin locked her front door, dressed in practical slacks and a leather jacket, carrying a soft-sided suitcase in one hand and a full cat carrier in the other. A newspaper boy rode by on his bicycle, tossing papers into doorways. Horse-drawn wagons shared the road with silent electric autos as the town awoke. Only a few blocks from the Capitol Building, she opted to walk. It would give her a moment to settle.
Solar panels lined rooftops. Ornamental trees lined the walkways. From somewhere, a rooster crowed. Sunlight winked from between building shadows. “Good morning, Ms. Redfern,” greeted an old woman walkingher little dog. It barked at Sam, who hissed in reply. “You’re out early. Heading off on a mission?” She glanced at Tamsin’s bag.
“Good morning to you too, Mrs. Westland. Morning, Toto. Duty calls.”
“Have a safe trip.” Mrs. Westland smiled at Tamsin, her eyes crinkling, before giving her dog a corrective rebuke. “Hush, now, Toto. We don’t bark at cats. It isn’t polite.”
Tamsin forced a smile and kept walking. It was comforting to know that some things never changed.
The government building dominated the square where Capitol Street and Railroad Avenue intersected. Tamsin recalled when it was being built twenty years ago, when she was a teen. She had been fascinated with the process and thought she might want to study architecture. But when a disagreement between the contractor and the workers broke out, she’d been the only one who could bring them together to talk out their grievances and reach a solution.
It was a blinding-light turning point for her, and she knew her purpose on this earth lay in conflict resolution. Her mother encouraged her, and her father paid for her higher education. Twelve years after earning her degree at New Sacramento University, she was known throughout the Confederation for walking into rooms where people already hated each other and getting them to talk.
Tamsin climbed the concrete steps to the State Capitol, a sturdy, modern structure built for function rather than ceremony, with clean lines and minimal ornamentation. The Shattered Edge flag—three mountain peaks on a tri-colored field of golden tan, fog gray, and pine green—waved above the three-story edifice’s flat roof. With her dad’s election, it had become the national capital for the duration of his tenure.
The polite doorman held the door for her. “You’re in early, Ms. Redfern,” he commented. “I think your father’s been here all night.”
That news didn’t bode well. “Thanks, Enos. I hope you got some sleep.”