The Breakaway(30)

“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?”