Page 122 of Tempest (Old West 3)

“That’s what quilts are for.”

“One of these days, Cupid’s going to hit you with an arrow right between the eyes. I just hope I’m around to see it.”

Smiling, Portia ignored the prediction only to hear Regan gush, “Oh my, they’re sharing a kiss.”

Portia sighed audibly. “Why don’t you step away from the window and let them have their privacy.”

“They’re having a picnic by the gazebo. If they wanted privacy they’d be in their suite behind closed doors.”

She supposed Regan was right. The couple’s love was legendary and they didn’t keep their mutual affection a secret. At any moment of the day one could round a corner and find them stealing a kiss, holding hands as if still courting, or drowning in each other’s eyes. Not that Portia found their affection unseemly; she was glad they were in love and that it extended to their nieces.

Regan vowed, “When I find someone to marry I want that type of love.”

Their mother, Corinne, had been in love, and when her intended demanded she cast her daughters aside because they weren’t his progeny, Corinne put the then twelve-year-old Portia and ten-year-old Regan on a train to their aunt Eddy in Virginia City and never looked back. In the fifteen years since, they’d not heard a word. Portia wanted no part of something that could cause such irreparable harm. She planned to remain unmarried and immerse herself in work. Work didn’t break hearts.

“Don’t you want to marry, Portia?”

“Not particularly, but if I do, he’ll have to be an exceptional fellow who loves me for my intelligence and business acumen, not for how I perform on my knees. I’m not Mama.”

Regan turned from the window, her voice thoughtful. “Do you ever wonder where she is?”

“Sometimes.” Portia would never admit how much her heart still ached from being abandoned so callously or how often she thought about her.

“Do you think she wonders about us?”

“I don’t know.”

Corinne had been a whore, and the hardship of their life with her still held a pain they rarely discussed. Thanks to Aunt Eddy and Uncle Rhine they’d survived though and were still together.

Regan’s attention returned to the scene outside the window. “I would love to be as happy as they are.”

“I added this column wrong,” Portia muttered, and began searching for her mistake. She blamed the error on being distracted by her sister’s chatter.

“Thoughts of being in love can do that.”

“No, your going on and on about love can do that,” she replied, humor in her voice.

“Don’t you want a man you can sneak off into a corner with and who will kiss you so passionately you don’t care if the whole territory is watching?”

Portia shook her head with amusement. Regan changed beaus as frequently as some women changed their gloves but never stayed with any of them very long. “You’re so shameless.”

“I know, but somewhere there’s a man who’ll appreciate that part of me. I have no intentions of relying on quilts to keep me warm at night and neither should you, sister.”

“Don’t you have mail to deliver or something?” In addition to his vast business holdings, their uncle Rhine owned the government mail contract, and the unconventional Regan had talked him into letting her take charge of delivery. Twice a week she and her mule, Josephine, drove the five miles to Tucson to see to its distribution. As far as Portia knew there’d been no complaints about Regan’s race or gender; folks just wanted their mail.

“Not until the day after tomorrow, which you’d remember if you weren’t so focused on your duties.”

“I take my position very seriously.”

“I know.”

The tone made Portia look up.

Regan said sincerely, “I don’t claim to know a lot about life but there has to be more to it than work. When was the last time you spent the day sitting in the meadow listening to bird songs or riding out to the canyon to take in the waterfalls?”

“I don’t have time for that, Regan. A lot goes into keeping this hotel running. There’s staff to manage and menus to approve, guests to oversee...”

“Which is why you have a staff. This place won’t fall to pieces if you left your desk every now and again.”

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