2. Prescription For Love

He didn’t have to say when you aren’t there , but she heard it clearly enough. Her mother had stopped living with them when Blake was old enough to come home from school and be by himself for a few hours until Abby got back from the hospital. With just the two of them, the apartment had seemed too big and too quiet, but she couldn’t begrudge her mother a move to Florida after she’d given up more than a decade to live with her and look after Blake. She couldn’t have managed without her, and even though her mother had insisted she was happy to do it and wouldn’t have missed Blake’s childhood for anything, living in New York City had been a sacrifice. Abby’s father had died in a car accident while Abby had been in her last year of high school, and her mother had barely begun thinking about what she’d do with her life when Abby had gotten pregnant in her second year of college. Her mother had never wanted to live in the city. She’d grown up in the foothills of the Adirondacks, where Abby had spent some idyllic summers as a child with her grandparents. Living in the Syracuse suburbs where Abby had grown up, her mother had always talked of retiring somewhere warm without snow.

No, she didn’t begrudge her mother a single day in the sun. She stopped the car and turned to Blake. “Yes, we can get a dog if you really want one. Just give it a while and think about what it means. You’ll be the primary caretaker. If you’re sure, then we will.” Blake nodded. “Okay, but I’m sure.”

He probably was. He rarely changed his mind once he voiced a desire. She wouldn’t mind a dog either, especially at night. She was discovering the quiet country nights under the vastness of a sky filled with a million stars she hadn’t seen in almost twenty years made her feel small and inconsequential. Added to that, the nights were so deep, dark, and still, she almost wished for the sound of traffic outside her bedroom window. Almost.

A screen door banged and Presley raced across the porch and down the stone path toward them.

Abby got out just in time to be caught up in a big hug.

“Have any trouble finding the place?” Presley looked relaxed in a yellow sleeveless top and dark green capris.

“No.” Abby turned slowly, taking in the rolling fields and woods in the distance. “It’s gorgeous out here.”

“Isn’t it?”

Blake got out and stood by the side of the car. He’d worn a black T-shirt with a stylized dragon breathing fire made from red and silver sequins, skinny blue jeans, and bright blue sneakers with no laces. He’d done something to his hair with gel that made it look spiky. He’d also grown another inch, Abby realized. David was over six feet, and it looked like Blake might come within a few inches of that.

“Hi, Blake,” Presley called easily before Abby could make introductions. “I’m Presley. You probably don’t remember me.”

Blake shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was ages ago.” Presley looped an arm around Abby’s waist. “Come on out back, you two. Carrie’s there. She’s staying on here until the wedding and then moving to Harper’s place.”

Another porch stretched the width of the back of the house, where Carrie waited in one of the white wood rockers lined up by the railing. Her crop top, cut-off denim shorts, and flip-flops made her look considerably younger than when Abby had seen her at work. A low bench served as a table and held a pitcher of lemonade, glasses, and a plate of cookies.

“You’ve met Carrie,” Presley said.

“Yes, hi again,” Abby said. “Carrie, my son, Blake.” “Hey, Blake,” Carrie said, holding out her hand.

“Hi,” Blake said quietly.

“Go ahead,” Presley said. “Help yourselves to something to drink. And be sure to try the cookies.” Abby poured lemonade for herself and Blake, handing him a glass. “These cookies look fabulous.

It smells like they were just baked. I’m impressed, Pres.”

“Don’t be,” Presley said with a laugh. “I have the most amazing housekeeper, Lila. She cooks, bakes, shops, and pretty much keeps me alive. She made the cookies this afternoon before she left.

She also put a pot roast in the oven along with the rest of dinner.”

“I think we might need a Lila, Mom,” Blake said, munching a cookie and dropping down on the top stair of the wide plank steps.

“Maybe you could just learn to cook,” she said mildly.

“Yeah, right.” He paused with the half-eaten cookie in his hand. “Hey, I think there’s something wrong with that chicken.”

Abby followed his gaze as a black bird with iridescent tail feathers stumbled around the corner and toward the porch. One leg was clearly damaged in some way.

“Oh, that’s Rooster,” Presley said. “He’s fine. I mean, he obviously isn’t, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all.” She broke off a piece of chocolate-chip cookie and tossed it out onto the lawn.

The bird made an ungodly screeching sound and attacked the morsel with a series of ferocious pecks. Blake watched with a widening grin. “He’s pretty cool. Do you have more?”