Ah, Sebastian thought, and felt a twinge of disappointment.
“They’ve been together for two years,” Eileen said.
Hmm, thought Sebastian, doing the math. Did that mean that Abby had been with Mark when she’d hooked up with him?
“Mark is a physician,” Eileen said, her voice a little smug.
“Podiatrist,” Abby said quietly.
Eileen ignored her daughter. “He’s Abby’s summer-camp sweetheart. They met when Abby was thirteen.”
“Wow.” Sebastian turned to Abby. “Have you been together all that time?”
“No.”
“Oh, it’s a lovely story,” Eileen said, hurrying to fill the silence that even she had to notice wasn’t quite comfortable. “Mark moved to Philadelphia to do his internship. They ran into each other when Abby was working as a camp counselor and Mark was volunteering. And they picked up right where they left off!” She lifted her eyebrows, looking toward her daughter. “Right, Abby?”
“That’s right.” Abby’s voice was flat, and Sebastian was relieved to see the waitress approach.
Sebastian ordered his dinner. “And the cheese plate for the table.” He smiled at Abby. “You’ll have some, right?”
Abby bit her lip and didn’t answer.
“And for you, ma’am?” the waitress asked Eileen.
Eileen asked for the lentil soup, then spent several moments negotiating the preparation of her Caesar salad—“dressing on the side, with grilled chicken, and if you can ask them to hold the croutons and go light on the cheese, that would be great.” Abby’s voice was barely audible as she asked for the salmon. Sebastian wondered if Abby was remembering the pasta he’d made for her. He tried, and failed, to catch her eye. Eileen’s lips had thinned as she looked at her daughter. Abby had raised her chin, and her shoulders were hunched up around her ears. Neither woman spoke, but the tension hung over the table like a fog.
“So!” Sebastian began, determined to lighten the mood. “Eileen, have you done a lot of cycling?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his reporter’s notebook. “This trip’s actually business and pleasure. I’m writing a story about the Empire State Trail for Scoop.com.”
“Oh, is this on the record?” Eileen said, looking flattered.
“If you don’t mind.”
“Well, it’s actually my first trip.” Eileen spread her napkin in her lap. “But I’m very happy to be doing it with Abby. I did a lot of indoor cycling during the pandemic, and it’s a pleasure to be back in the world, with people.”
“Abby, how about you?” Sebastian asked, writing down Eileen’s quote. “Have you ridden the trail before?”
“No.”
Sebastian chided himself for asking a question that could be answered with a single negative or affirmative. Rookie mistake. “What’s your favorite part about trips like these?”
“The quiet,” said Abby, giving him a hard look, before turning to Lincoln. “How’d you two find out about Breakaway?”
“We’re doing a package about local getaways. I read about the Empire State Trail when it opened, and I was researching the different companies that lead trips along the trail.”
Sebastian listened to them chat. He ate his pasta, politely offering some to Eileen, who declined, and to Abby, who looked a little regretful as she shook her head. By the time Sebastian set the fork down, Abby was talking to Lincoln, leaving Sebastian to stare at her profile. He watched as she gathered her curls and deftly twisted them into a bun at the base of her neck while saying something that made Lincoln laugh.
Okay, then. He turned back to Eileen. “So you’re from Philadelphia?”
“The suburbs. But Abby lives in Center City. She and Mark like being right in the thick of things.” She patted her lips a little smugly.
“Do they live near the Liberty Bell?” Sebastian riffled through his memories of a long-ago field trip for Philadelphia landmarks. “Or the Rocky statue?”
Eileen gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Mark lives in Rittenhouse Square, which is one of the nicest neighborhoods in the city. Abby’s got an apartment in South Philadelphia, but I think they’re planning on moving in together.”
Sebastian felt something strange in the vicinity of his chest—a sensation it took him a moment to recognize as disappointment. Which was surprising. Maybe he assumed that Abby had been waiting for him, like a piece of luggage he’d never claimed, going around and around on the conveyor belt until he finally came back to fetch it. Of course, she hadn’t put her life on hold for the past two years. And, he thought, a boyfriend was not a husband. Especially a boyfriend who wasn’t around and wouldn’t be for the next thirteen nights.
“Have you been to Philadelphia?” Eileen asked him.
“Not in a while. But I hear good things.” He looked to see if Abby was listening, but she still had her eyes on Lincoln. Patience, he told himself. “Does Abby have brothers or sisters?”
“One of each,” said Eileen. “Her brother’s married with two kids. And her sister lives in New Jersey with her husband, right on the other side of the Delaware.”
When the entrées arrived, Sebastian spent a few minutes tucking into his pork, which was, all things considered, delicious, flavorful, and tender. Eileen meticulously scoured her salad for errant croutons and removed each sliver of cheese while Abby nibbled at her salmon, talked to Lincoln, and continued to ignore Sebastian.
“So you’re a reporter?” Eileen asked him. “Do you mostly do travel writing?”
“Mostly investigative stuff,” Sebastian said. He told her about the restaurant roundup they’d done recently, and the story they’d written called “Don’t Go Drinking Without Me,” where they’d gotten a bunch of sommeliers to talk about their techniques for upselling expense-account diners, and how civilians could enlist them to get the best bottles. He learned that Abby’s parents were divorced, that Abby’s father was a rabbi (Eileen took pains to point out that he’d been in finance while they’d been married), and that Abby worked in early-childhood education.
“?‘Worked in early-childhood education’ means I taught nursery school for a few years,” said Abby, who must have tuned in to their conversation at some point.
“You were studying for your master’s degree,” said Eileen, looking like she’d taken a brief break to suck on a lemon.
“Until I dropped out,” said Abby.
Eileen asked, “Sebastian, did you always know you wanted to be a reporter?”
“Hmm. Not exactly. I kind of fell into it, I guess. I started writing for the school paper, then Lincoln and I started doing our own thing, and it turned out I was good at it…”
“Adequate,” Lincoln said dryly.
“And I liked it. I got lucky.”
“Lucky,” Abby repeated. She sounded wistful. And, Sebastian saw, her mother was looking at her, with an expression that blended frustration and sympathy.
“Abby, what’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened on a ride?” Sebastian asked.
“Well, I actually haven’t led a trip like this,” Abby said. “But my friend Lizzie leads a bunch. And she’s told me some horror stories.” She set down her fork, smiling faintly. “I remember she told me about an eighteen-day trip in Italy with a couple on their honeymoon. On the second day, the husband found out that his wife had been cheating on him with her maid of honor. The rest of that trip must have been delightful,” Abby said.
“What about you, though?” Sebastian asked. “Anything funny happen on the rides you’ve led?”
Abby closed her eyes to think. “Well, let’s see. The one trip I did, there was a couple on a tandem. The husband was the captain, of course, and the wife was the stoker. Except he was a really experienced rider who did a few centuries every summer—hundred-mile rides,” she said to Eileen, who nodded. “And she’d mostly done spinning classes.” Abby gave her mother a significant look, which Eileen ostentatiously ignored. “Maybe the guy thought it would average out. Like, if he could do a hundred miles a day and she could only do twenty, between the two of them, they could manage sixty.”