The Breakaway(29)

“Good ride today?” he said. She wore small sparkly earrings, which made him remember nibbling at the tender spot just beneath her earlobes.

“Yes,” Abby said tightly, before turning away from him and toward the woman sitting beside her. Sebastian looked her over: middle-aged, petite, and well-maintained, with short brown hair, long eyelashes, lots of jewelry and a suspicious gaze. Abby said, “Sebastian, this is my mother, Eileen Fenske. Mom, this is Sebastian… Pierson?”

“Piersall,” said Sebastian, extending his hand to the woman who, now that he was looking, bore a slight resemblance to Abby. Eileen’s hair was darker; her body was almost boyish, but she had the same wide forehead and firm chin as her daughter. “Pleasure to meet you.” He smiled more broadly. “You’re Abby’s mom? I would have guessed you were her big sister.”

Eileen waved away the flattery with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes, and studied Sebastian, tilting her head, lipsticked lips pursed. “Did you two know each other before the trip?”

“We’ve met,” Sebastian said, at the same time that Abby said, “No.”

Eileen’s eyes flicked from her daughter to Sebastian and back again.

“We met very briefly. In New York. Years ago,” Abby said.

“Hmm.” Eileen’s eyes were bright, her gaze even sharper. “Where in New York?”

Sebastian and Abby looked at each other. Abby said, “Convention,” at the same instant that Sebastian said, “Bar.”

Eileen tilted her head, looking like an inquisitive bird contemplating a worm.

“We met at the bar, at a convention,” Sebastian said. He shot Abby a look that he hoped said, Help me out. Abby shook her head slightly and stared down at the table.

“What kind of convention was this?” Eileen inquired. “And why were you at a convention in New York?”

“It was more of a job fair,” Abby said.

Eileen’s brow furrowed. “So not a convention,” she said.

“Convention, job fair. Six of one, half dozen of the other,” Abby said, sounding a little desperate. She kicked Sebastian’s shin under the table. Not gently. Sebastian winced.

“You were job hunting in New York?” Eileen’s manicured fingertips tapped at the table as she stared at Abby.

Abby squirmed. “Just, you know. Keeping my options open,” she said, her voice faint. “You know, I should probably go check on”—she gestured toward the end of the table—“everyone else.”

Eileen wasn’t letting her off the hook. “Would Mark be willing to move to New York?” she asked.

“We haven’t discussed it,” said Abby.

“Who’s Mark?” asked Sebastian.

This time, it was Abby and her mother who spoke at the same time. Abby said, “My boyfriend,” while Eileen said, “Her boyfriend.”

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.”