Lori Wilde - Angels and Outlaws

“Oh, Morgan, don’t be such a party-pooper. It belongs to you. Why can’t we open it?”

“There’s no key.”

“Let’s jimmy the lock.” She turned the box over and realized there was no keyhole at all.

Strange. A box with no opening.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? In fact I’ve developed a fascination with it. Who it belonged to, what happened to them, what’s inside. Adam says I’m obsessed.”

“Are you?”

Morgan shrugged, didn’t admit to anything. But Cass saw how her eyes gleamed when she looked at the box. “We could jam a screwdriver into it, pop it open like a clam.”

“The box is really old. Hundreds of years, maybe even more. I don’t dare risk doing anything that could destroy it.”

“Bummer.” Cass sighed, put the box back on the highboy and returned to sit cross-legged in front of the knickknacks she’d been cataloging.

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes and then Morgan said, “You do realize that your longest relationship was with a guy who lived in London and you only saw him a few times a year.”

Cass smiled. “Oh yes, Nigel. He was the best of the lot.”

“Because he didn’t get in your hair. That’s the way you like them, tall, dark and absent. Admit it, Cass. You’re commitmentphobic.”

“Why do you consider me commitmentphobic simply because I’m not lining up to get married and have babies?” Cass asked. “I’m not commitmentphobic. I just haven’t found the right guy.”

“What was wrong with Gregory Henderson? He was really nice and smart enough to keep up with you.”

Cass waved a hand. “He had a high-pitched voice. Come on, could you face ‘til-death-do-you-part’with a guy who sounds like he’s constantly inhaling helium?”

Morgan tried not to smile. “What about Ross Roosevelt?”

“The man wore a size twenty-two shoe. And before you ask, no, the myth about men with big feet having other big parts is not true—in fact it seemed to be quite the opposite in his case.”

“Pete Kerns?”

“Pul-leaze, he talked with his mouth full.”

“You’re minimizing their good points and maximizing their bad.”

“What? I should marry the first halfway decent guy who crosses my path simply because he is halfway decent?” Cass shook her head. “Nope. Sorry. If I get married it will have to be to someone who blows my socks off with Fourth-of-July fireworks both in bed and out.”

“You’re romanticizing marriage. It’s not like that. You have to work at it.”

“That’s why I don’t want to commit. I don’t want to have to work at being happy. I’m plenty happy all on my own. Besides, you have to remember, not everyone is as lucky as you, Morgan,” Cass retorted. Her sister had been married for a decade. She had no idea what it was like trying to find a good man these days. “Not everyone snags the perfect guy right from the get-go.”

Morgan pursed her lips and dropped her gaze. “Adam’s not perfect.”

“Of course he is.”

Cass adored Adam. He was the big brother she’d never had. He was bright and polite and caring, made a great living and he was very good-looking. Her sister was so lucky.

“Nobody’s perfect.” Morgan’s tone of voice surprised her.

“Are you guys having marital problems?” Cass asked.

The idea shocked her. Sure, Adam and Morgan had been married for ten years, but they’d always been rock solid. As far as Cass knew they’d never even really had a serious argument.

“No, no. Nothing like that, it’s just…” Morgan let her words trail off.

“Just what?” Cass drew her knees to her chest and leaned forward.

“Adam’s so busy with work and I’ve been preoccupied with opening the shop and given his long commute we don’t have as much time together as I hoped when we bought this place.” Morgan sighed. “I’m beginning to wonder if we’re ever going to find time to start a family.”

Cass felt melancholy. See there. That was one of the main reasons she didn’t want a long-term relationship. The passion always fizzled. No matter how much two people loved each other. It was inevitable. But she wasn’t one to dwell on problems for long. She was an action-oriented girl. If something was broke, well then you fixed it.

“Why are you here with me? You should be spending your Sunday with Adam.”

Morgan sighed. “He’s golfing with an important client.”

“So why don’t you take up golf?”

Her sister shot her a withering glance. “Yoga is as physical as I get.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Cass grinned wickedly and started humming that old Olivia Newton-John song, “Physical.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re loaded with excess energy.”

“Sorry,” Cass apologized. “I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

“No, it’s okay. I need to lighten up. In fact, I’m really glad you’re here. You have a knack for making me see rainbows beyond the storm clouds.”

Cass smiled at the compliment. “Have you tried fantasy role-playing? Bedroom toys? Sexy videos? I don’t mean to brag but I could steer you in the right direction if you’re interested.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for sex toys and naughty movies. I thought maybe a vacation.”

“That’s a great place to start. Got any locales in mind?”

Morgan ducked her head and Cass was surprised to realize her older sister was feeling shy. She probably felt awkward discussing her sex life.

“Actually,” Morgan confessed. “I’ve been listening to French language tapes. I thought if I could speak a little French it might spice things up.”

“Oooh la la.”

“And then I saw this travel brochure advertising a week at a chateau in the Loire valley. The chateau used to be a military fortress. It has a drawbridge and a moat and everything. It’s situated along the banks of a river. There’s lush gardens and rolling woodlands. Cass, you should see the pictures. It’s breathtaking and so romantic.”

“Sounds to die for.”

“I just hope it works,” Morgan fretted.

“Things have gotten that stale?”

Morgan nodded and looked away, but not before Cass saw the darkening of concern in her eyes.

She gulped. Her big sister was always the one to comfort her. Now that the shoe was on the other foot she really didn’t know how to reassure Morgan that everything was going to work out okay. Rather than deal with the awkward silence, Cass started rooting around in the stack of books Morgan had taken from the box, looking for something, anything to make her sister laugh.

“Hey, what’s this?” Cass picked up a dusty old tome. It was just the sort of book Morgan would love, ancient and lore-riddled. “Look, it’s in French.”

Her ploy worked. Morgan glanced up, curiosity replacing the worry.

“Think you can translate it?” Cass passed the book to her.

Morgan took the thick volume, traced a finger over the aged lettering. “I’ve just started my lessons.”

“Yeah, but you’re a fast learner, Miss Top Ten Percent of her NYU graduate school class.”

Morgan smiled. “All right. I’ll give it a go.”

Cass changed positions, scooting around until she was sitting knee to knee with her sister. They used to sit this way when they were kids, telling each other romantic fairy tales about stalwart knights and fair maidens and true, undying love. It felt good to sit with Morgan like this again. To remember what their relationship had been like before life had gotten in the way.

As a kid, Cass had always looked up to Morgan and tried to emulate her. But later, as her parents inevitably ended up comparing her to her older sister and she continually came up short, Cass found herself rebelling. She could never be Morgan, so why try?