Free Training Days by Jane Frances Page A

this chord told her it would be for the good.
    “Ally!” she called. The irony that she was going to invite another woman into her compartment for a potentially troublesome interaction was not lost on Morgan. “Ally. Stop!”
    But Ally didn’t stop, or even slow down. She continued at her rapid pace, occasionally knocking her shoulders on the walls of the corridor as she moved in opposition to the carriage’s sway. Morgan, unwilling to draw any more attention to herself than necessary, ceased calling after her and watched her disappear into the next carriage. She hesitated for just a moment. Then she followed.
    She followed her through the Red sleeper, lounge and diner cars, and she followed her into the first and then second of the upright seating carriages. Being close to the end of the luncheon session, there was a lot of movement in the corridors. Morgan nodded politely to all those who said hello to her and murmured, “Sorry, but I can’t stop and chat at the moment,” to those who appeared to want to extend the niceties beyond a greeting. She was glad she didn’t bump into Marge. Morgan was aware she had brushed her off this morning and didn’t want to have to do the same again now. “Oh, crap,” Morgan muttered to herself. She really had to stop even thinking of Marge. Because, just as occurred yesterday when she made her mad leap into a seat opposite the fabulously French Marie, the mere thought of her made her appear. She was near the other end of the carriage and—surprise, surprise—talking to someone. The carriages were long, and luckily she was facing the other direction, but right at this moment, the distance between them was not nearly far enough.
    For the second time since commencing her pursuit of Ally down the length of the train, Morgan hesitated. Then she bit the bullet, increased her speed for the few steps it took to catch up to her, reached out and grabbed her by the arm.
    Not surprisingly, the reception Morgan received was even colder than when Kitty had introduced her to Ally at lunch. At the time, Morgan had wondered why Ally was so chilly toward her. Little had she known that Ally’s frigid reception was at least partly due to the fact she had lost her sleeper berth and ended up in an upright seat. In fact, knowing what she did now—had Morgan been Ally—she would have told Kitty to shove her lunch invitation where the sun didn’t shine. Or else she would have accepted, downed as much expensive wine she could lay her hands on and then let rip. Ally had in fact done just that—with the exception of the consumption of an excess of alcohol—but to her credit she had let fly only after realizing she had been told a barefaced lie.
    Now, Morgan wondered if Ally would have even mentioned her less-than-ideal travel circumstances had Kitty not insisted on pursuing her ridiculous charade. Somehow she doubted it. Over lunch, once Ally’s initial defenses came down and she relaxed, she had seemed content just to enjoy the moment and leave past events in the past.
    All things considered, she didn’t blame Ally one bit for the return of the icy glare. Nor was she surprised at the “Get your hands off me!” that she hissed at her.
    Morgan loosened her hold on Ally’s arm but quietly pleaded, “Please, Ally. Let me explain.”
    “Let go of me,” Ally repeated.
    Morgan let her hand fall. “I’m sorry.”
    “As well you should be.” Ally looked down as she smoothed the material of her shirt where Morgan’s hand had been. When she eventually met Morgan’s gaze, her expression was one of angry confusion. “Can you please explain to me just what was going on in there?” She pointed back toward the rear of the train, presumably to indicate the restaurant car. “What was all that bullshit about you and Nick? Because I know it wasn’t him with you last night.”
    Morgan opened her mouth to explain it was all Kitty’s stupid idea, then stopped herself. No matter how little she thought