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.”
“Ha,” said Lincoln. “Not how it works, right?”
“Especially not on a tandem. The wife was so pissed that, by the end of the first day, she’d just stopped pedaling. Like, she literally unclipped her feet from the pedals and just sat there like a sack of potatoes.” Abby shook her head, smiling a little at the memory. “It was beautiful.”
The waitress reappeared, making her way down the table to take dessert and coffee orders. Sebastian requested tiramisu and a cappuccino. Abby got a cannoli and a coffee. Eileen asked for tea with lemon, no cream, no sugar, then excused herself and headed toward the restrooms.