The Parting Glass Read Free Page A

was more interesting than pretty, but she made full use of her irregular features, bright hair and angular model’s body by choosing dramatic, quirky clothing and makeup. Casey always made a splash.
    Then there was Megan. Sensible, cut-the-fuss Megan who felt perfectly at home in khakis and an emerald-green polo shirt running the family saloon. Today she felt like a little girl playing dress-up. A particularly awkward little girl.
    “Here’s the problem,” Megan said. “I’m not doing this just for Nick. I believe in marriage, too. At least theoretically.”
    “When we were growing up you didn’t see too many happy marriages up close. You were too busy raising us to pay much attention.”
    “Mom and Rooney were happy at times.”
    “Well, sure, when he wasn’t hallucinating. Then Mom died, and Rooney flipped his wig altogether and took off for parts unknown. And you were left to carry on.”
    “There are plenty of happy marriages in the family. Look at Aunt Deirdre and Uncle Frank.”
    Casey went to the dresser mirror to check her makeup. “You were too busy protecting your turf to pay much attention, Megan.”
    Megan supposed Casey was right. Their father, Rooney, had abandoned the family when Megan was only fourteen. She had spent the next years trying to do everything a teenager could to keep the family saloon in operation and her sisters together. And she had been scarred by her father’s desertion. At first Niccolo had paid the price.
    “I know I was affected by those early years,” Megan said. “But I’m over the worst of that. Now I’m a big girl. I understand why Rooney left. I’m just glad to have him back—more or less back, anyway. I know he did the best he could.”
    Casey faced her. “If everybody without mental illness tried as hard as Rooney does, the world would be a pretty spectacular place.”
    “It’s not seeing enough good marriages that scares me. It’s seeing one. Yours,” Megan said bluntly. “Lately, that’s what worries me.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You and Jon. I don’t know how you do it. The two of you are happier together than you ever were apart. You make it look effortless.”
    “Jon and I were friends in high school.” Casey tugged one shoulder of Megan’s dress lower, then slapped her sister’s hand when she tried to pull it back up. “But what does that have to do with you? You love Nick. You like Nick. What’s the problem? You have what you need, don’t you?”
    “You make it look easy, and it’s not. I don’t know how to just fall into marriage the way you and Jon did. Nothing’s ever easy for me, Case. I don’t know about easy. I don’t think Nick does, either.”
    “Everybody has to work at being married. Maybe Jon and I make it look easy, but I can tell you there’ve been a few great fights.” Casey’s eyes shone. “And some great make-up sex.”
    “What if I give it my all and it turns out I’m not good enough?” Megan turned. “You do marriage counseling sometimes, right?”
    Casey, who was the brand-new director of a charitable organization that delivered social services to West Side residents, shrugged. “It’s not my field of expertise.”
    “Is this anxiety natural?” Megan bit her lip, then remembered she was wearing lipstick. “For two cents I’d bolt for the door and just keep going.”
    “And what if you did? What’s waiting out there that’s so tempting?”
    “I don’t want to fail.”
    “What would happen if you did?”
    Megan considered, but not for long. “I’d die. I can’t screw this up. If I get married, I want it to last. And what if I can’t figure out how to make that happen?”
    Casey crossed the room and rested her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Megan, you don’t have to carry the weight alone. Remember? There are two of you, and I’ve never known two more capable people. You’ll be a roaring success. Someday you’ll be kicking yourself for telling me all this.”
    Footsteps