“Left turn!” Abby called as they came to a stop sign. The riders turned off the highway and onto a two-lane road, passing a development of newly constructed houses, a warehouse, another farm. Sheep stood in the meadow, peering at them curiously as they rode past. One of them looked up and offered a laconic “baaaa,” before going back to his mouthful of grass.
Abby wiped sweat off her face with her shoulder and told herself to just get it over with. “Thank you for helping yesterday,” she said. Her voice sounded a little stiff, but at least the words and the sentiment were right.
“You’re welcome,” Eileen said, sounding just as stiff.
Abby clicked into a higher gear. “Do you think Morgan’s going to tell her mother what happened?”
Eileen considered. “If I had to guess, I’d say yes.”
Abby swallowed hard. “And on a scale of one to ten, how furious do you think Lily’s going to be?” And what are the chances that she’s going to sue all of us?
“Zero,” Eileen said immediately.
Abby stared at her mother. “Even though her daughter just went against everything she’s been taught, and everything her parents believe?”
“I think all of those beliefs and values go right out the window when it’s your own child,” Eileen replied. “I think, in the end, every mother wants what’s best for her kids. And forcing a teenager to have a baby…” Eileen shook her head. “Lily has to know that wouldn’t have been good for Morgan. That it wasn’t what Morgan wanted.”
Yes, Abby thought bitterly. It’s wonderful when a mother respects their teenage daughter’s wishes. She didn’t say anything. Neither did Eileen. They pedaled along the edge of the lake, a vast expanse of dark blue that glittered in the sun. There was a park near the waterfront, where Abby called a halt.
“Lunchtime!” she said. The riders parked their bikes and pulled the lunches they’d packed out of panniers and handlebar bags (during the hunt for Andy and Morgan, Abby had texted the riders to apprise them of the situation and to tell them to go find food for the Cayuga Lake ride, along with a list of nearby shops and delis).
“Come sit with me,” Eileen said. She led Abby to a table slightly removed from the rest of the group. Abby watched as her mother pulled out her lunch—a salad with a side of carrot sticks. Abby had bought a turkey, bacon, and avocado sandwich, a cookie, and a bag of chips at a coffee shop. Neither of them spoke as Abby unfolded a paper napkin and Eileen dipped her fork into her container of dressing, coating each tine with the smallest amount possible.
“Hey, Abby.” Sebastian swung one long leg over the picnic table’s bench. There was at least twelve inches of space between them, but Abby could still feel, or imagined that she could feel, the heat from his body; the warmth of his regard. She could also feel her mother’s attention sharpening.
“We still on for tonight?” he asked, unwrapping an enormous hoagie.
“Mm-hmm.”
“What’s happening tonight?” Eileen asked.
“Oh, nothing,” said Abby. As Sebastian said, “We’re having dinner together.”
The line between Eileen’s brows deepened. “Don’t you always have dinner together?” Eileen asked.
“That’s what Abby said!” Sebastian had the nerve to look pleased with himself.
“We’re just going to sit together and Sebastian is going to interview me,” Abby said hastily, hoping to forestall her mother’s interrogation. Wondering if there was any way Eileen had figured out what had transpired the day before. There was no way she could have known, Abby told herself, and hoped that she was right; that it wasn’t written all over her face. As she hoped, she also remembered how Mark had helped to get Eileen on the bike trip. Did that mean they were still talking? Was Mark casually calling her mom for updates—Hey, Mrs. F., just want to hear how it’s going out there? Was her mother casually calling Mark, unprompted—Hello, Mark, just wondering if you were aware that there’s a very handsome young man on this trip and he and Abby seem to be spending a lot of time together?
“So you two are friends now?” Eileen was asking. Her tone was innocent, and her expression gave nothing away, but Abby knew when she was being judged. After a lifetime’s worth of experience, of course she knew when she’d done something wrong or disappointing; when Eileen had weighed her in the balance and found her wanting.
“It’s just dinner,” Abby muttered. Eileen’s chipmunk-bright eyes stayed fixed on her daughter.
“Oh!” said Sue, taking a seat next to Sebastian. “You two are having dinner together?”
“We are,” said Sebastian. Sue and Lou both looked delighted to hear it. Lou actually clapped her hands together, beaming. Eileen said nothing as the rest of the Spoke’n Four sat down. Today, their jerseys were kelly green with white lettering.
“Where’s Andy?” Lou asked Abby quietly.
“In the doghouse,” Ted boomed, not quietly. “You know he ran off with Morgan this morning.”
“Shh!” Sue hissed as Ezra’s head popped up.
“Andy’s taking a day off,” said Abby.
“And Morgan’s with her mom. I think they’re going shopping,” said Eileen. Abby gave her mother a grateful look.
“Andy’s with his mom, and Morgan’s with hers, and both of them are in trouble,” Ted said, oblivious to the other three’s attempt to shush him. Sebastian smiled at her. Abby ducked her head, but she couldn’t keep herself from smiling back. In spite of Eileen’s scrutiny and judgment, in spite of her fear, or maybe paranoia, that her mother and her boyfriend were both onto her, she felt happy. She had zero hopes of things with Sebastian going anywhere, the same way she’d had no expectations the night they’d hooked up in Brooklyn. At least, she was doing her best to keep from hoping for things that would never happen. And, just like she’d been on that night, she couldn’t wait to be with him, to be close enough to feel the warmth of his body, to bask in his attention, even if it was only for the length of a meal.
* * *
At home, in her apartment in Philadelphia, Abby had a closet full of clothes and a drawer full of lingerie; a vanity full of makeup, and a hairdresser around the corner. Here, in her hotel room, she had a tinted ChapStick and a travel-size bottle of lotion. Her only jewelry were the tiny studs in her ears. Her only footwear were a pair of slip-on sneakers and her cycling shoes, and her only grooming products were deodorant, and the hotel-provided shampoo and conditioner.
Abby shook her head, and started twisting her curls with her fingers, murmuring “My kingdom for a diffuser,” when she heard a knock on her door. She opened it to find Lou and Sue, standing in the hallway.
“We heard there was a fashion emergency,” said Sue.
“And we’ve come to the rescue,” said Lou. “Come with us!”
Abby found her shoes and let Lou and Sue lead her out of her room and out the door, across the puddle-dotted parking lot, and into the Spoke’n Four’s RV. Abby was amused to see an IF THE TRAILER’S ROCKIN’, DON’T COME KNOCKIN’ bumper sticker affixed to one of the windows.
“Lemonade?” asked Ted.
“Ooh, yes, please.”
Ted smiled and handed her a glass as Abby looked around. There was a small living room up front, with built-in couches on each side, a table between them, and a wide-screen TV on one wall that looked like it folded up into the ceiling. Beyond that was a tiny kitchen, with a sink, an oven, a microwave, and a two-burner stove. A closed door beyond that must have led to the bedroom. Bedrooms? Maybe there were bunk beds, Abby decided.
“Come!” said Lou. “Sit!” She ushered Abby to the couch. A folding light-up makeup mirror, already plugged in, was centered on the table, along with a hair dryer, a curling iron, a large acrylic box full of brushes and lipsticks and eye shadow palettes, and four pairs of earrings, and half a dozen bracelets and necklaces.
Abby shook her head, staring at the jewelry. “This is so nice!”
“Oh, please,” said Ted. “You’re doing them a favor. This is the most fun they’ve had all week.”
“We think you and Sebastian are lovely together,” said Sue.