2. Prescription For Love

The girl held out her hand to Abby. “Hi, Dr. Remy. I’m Margie Rivers. Flann and Harper’s sister.” “Hi,” Abby said, hiding her surprise. “I didn’t realize you two had met.”

“Yeah,” Margie said. “At the library today.”

Avoiding Abby’s gaze, Blake said to Margie, “Pepperoni or mushroom?”

“Oh, that’s okay. I already had supper.”

“Go ahead,” Abby said, sliding a mushroom slice onto her plate. “I suspect there’s probably still room for more.”

“Well, maybe one.” Margie glanced at Blake. “Pepperoni.” Blake eased a slice onto a paper plate and passed it to Margie.

“Thanks,” Margie said.

Abby said cautiously, “I haven’t had a chance to see the school, Margie. Presley said it’s a regional high school, with a pretty big class. How do you like it?”

“It’s fine. The teachers are mostly all pretty good. Our school graduating class has a seventy-five percent college acceptance rate, which is slightly better than the state average. We score okay on the

SATs too, and if you select for just the college applicants, we do even better.”

Abby put her pizza down and regarded Margie, suppressing a smile. “You seem to be somewhat of a statistician.”

“No, not really. My sister Carson is the MBA. She’s head of admissions at the hospital. I’m interested in economics, but I’ll probably end up in medicine like the rest of the family.”

“I take it that’s something of a family legacy.”

“Yeah. It’s not required or anything.” Margie shrugged. “But I guess it’s kind of in the genes.” “I hope not,” Blake muttered.

Abby laughed. “Maybe not in our family.”

Margie looked at Blake. “So what are you planning on doing?”

“Oh. Well. I’m going to be a writer.”

“That’s cool. Novels, or what?”

“Fiction, yeah.” Blake looked nonchalant, but his eyes had brightened.

“So, are you writing anything now?”

“I’ve got a couple things started.”

“That’s really cool. Do you think you’ll go to college or just start out writing?”

Blake cut a look at Abby. “I think my mom would have a heart attack if I didn’t go to college.” “Something along those lines,” Abby said dryly.

Margie laughed. “Yeah, I know how that is.”

“I don’t mind,” Blake said. “I think studying writing and literature will be good.” “Me too. I love books.” “Me too,” Blake said softly.

When the pizza was done, they all walked out together. Abby held back a little while Blake and Margie walked ahead, discussing a book she’d never heard of. Margie stopped by the bike rack. “I’ll see you,” Margie said to Blake. “Nice meeting you, Dr. Remy.” “Call me Abby. And you too.”

Margie waved and biked away. Abby chose her words carefully. Don’t push. Don’t pry. Leave the door open. God, it was hard sometimes. She wanted to ask a million things—are you going to tell her? Do you like her—girls—that way? What do you want that will make you happy?

“She seems nice,” Abby finally ventured.

“Yeah.” Blake stuffed his hands in his pockets. “She is.”

Small beginnings. Abby breathed the fragrant air and listened to the sounds of the night coming to life. One step at a time.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Abby glanced at the GPS, which had suddenly decided to send her in a completely opposite direction from the one in which they’d been driving. “That doesn’t look right.”

Blake leaned forward to study the map and then out the window. “None of this looks right either. I can’t see anything. I don’t think anybody lives out here.”

“I’m quite sure they do,” Abby said, laughing. “These are just farms.”

“Yeah, but there aren’t any houses.”

“There’s one right up on that hill over there.”

Blake sat back with an undisguised huff of disgust. “Okay. One.”

Still laughing, Abby slowed to check the number on a mailbox coming up. She slowed further and turned in to a one-lane dirt driveway. “This is it.”

“How long do we have to stay?”

“Until I’ve had a chance to talk to my friend, have a decent dinner, and find you a boarding school in another country.”

“Ha-ha. Which country?”

“I hear Switzerland is nice.”

“At least I could ski.”

“I’m quite sure there’ll be plenty of skiing around here in a few more months.”

Blake perked up. “Can I get lessons?”

“Yes, if you think you can survive that long.”

Grinning, Blake said, “I’ll try.”

“There’s the house. Oh, it’s really nice.”

“Can we have a dog?”

“Do you really want one?” Abby pulled into a wide space between a big white clapboard house with a porch running along the front and a weathered red barn that was twice as big as the house. Come to think of it, the barns they’d passed were always bigger than the houses, a subtle sign of the priorities of farming life. “A dog is a big responsibility for a long time.”

“Yeah,” Blake said. “But it’d be nice to have someone around.”