“I’m used to getting up early. Most jobs, especially during the summer, we try to start work at daybreak. I’m in the office well before that, getting everyone’s schedules together.” She took a sip of the coffee in her travel mug. “But getting up at three is a little early.”

“I know. I’ll be a zombie by tonight.”

“I can share driving duty,” she offered.

“Good. I’ll take you up on it.” Abby glanced at her. “Nicole?”

“Huh?”

“Your name? Nic. Is it short for Nicole?”

“No.”

“No? Crap.”

“Why?”

“My mother.”

“Again?”

Abby laughed. “My mother asked what Nic was short for. I assumed Nicole.”

“Oh. No, it’s actually short for Nicky.”

“Really? Your given name is Nicky? That’s cute. Why do you go by Nic?”

“I don’t know. That’s just what everyone always called me. You?”

Abby groaned. “It’s Abigail. And my mother is the only one who calls me that. And Holly,” she added, before blowing out a breath. “Okay. So, what’s your favorite meal?”

“Are we practicing being girlfriends?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She took another sip of her coffee. “I don’t guess I have a favorite meal. My mother didn’t cook much. Well, not unless you consider making Hamburger Helper cooking. We ate a lot of KFC, a lot of burgers. Pizza.” She shook her head. “I was a fat kid. Really fat.”

“No way.”

“Yep. When I moved in with my uncle, I lost a ton of weight. He cooked for us each night and he got up early and made breakfast too. Oatmeal and toast.”

Abby laughed. “And you hated it?”

“I did. But it grew on me, I guess. He’d pile blueberries or strawberries on top and usually a banana too. And sometimes he’d let me put peanut butter on my toast.” She thought back to those days, days when at first, she’d felt so lost and alone. “I guess back then my favorite meal was smothered pork chops on top of rice. He’d make that once a week. It was something my aunt used to make for him.”

“His favorite meal then?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you live with your uncle?”

Nic stared into the darkness for the longest time. “I just did.”

“And is the aunt in the picture?”

“No. She died about a year before I moved in with him. They had no kids.” She glanced at Abby, wanting to steer the conversation away from her. “What about you? Favorite meal?”

“Oh, I don’t know. My mother did cook. It was a passion of hers. I told you they were both in real estate.”

“Successful?”