Daring In a Blue Dress Read Online Free

of which faced another bank of three, and said, “No, not at all. I was just talking to myself.”
    â€œI do that a lot, too,” the woman said, hefting a couple of suitcases onto the white metal racks arranged above the seats. She gave a quick look around the compartment, adding, “I haven’t seen a train like this since I was small.”
    â€œFrom what the ticket person said, I gather they had some mechanical issues, and had to pull a few old compartments out of retirement. I think it’s kind of fun, actually. It’s very Agatha Christie, don’t you think? I half expected to find a body under the seat, and a box of stolen jewels hidden in the luggage rack.”
    She gave a tight, brief smile and took the seat opposite me, pulling out her phone and moodily tapping at it before setting it on the seat next to her. Distantly, a metallic voice droned some instruction or information,wholly incomprehensible. “They are different, aren’t they? I suppose these old compartments let people talk more than the row seats we normally get.”
    â€œExactly. I’m Mercy, by the way. Mercedes, actually, but everyone calls me Mercy.” I didn’t offer my hand, not because I felt she’d spurn it, but because she was tapping at her phone again, clearly preoccupied.
    â€œJanna,” she said abruptly, then looked up, a frown pulling her brows together. “Sorry, that’s my name. Are you Canadian or American?”
    â€œBoth, actually. My mother was from British Columbia, but my dad is a Californian. I was studying history of law here in London, but ran out of funds, so now I’m heading to Cornwall to start a new job.” I stopped, realizing I was doing the oversharing thing that caused so many Americans to be the butts of jokes by folks less willing to blab out every little nuance of their life to strangers.
    â€œOh?” She looked up from her phone. Her face was tight with some worry or concern. “Sorry, I’m scattered today. Geoff, my partner—well, ex-partner, I guess you could say—he’s gone off to Ibiza to work at a resort, and now he’s telling me that he made a mistake leaving me, and I should go out there with him.”
    I settled back into the well-worn (but still oddly comfortable) seat, prepared to enjoy the human drama that never failed to intrigue. “Goodness. Ibiza sounds exotic and sunny.”
    â€œIt is.” She glanced out of the window, her lips a thin line. The train gave a lurch and then started forward, rolling us past the mass of humanity that filled the station. “I wish I knew what to do. We were together for four years, and one day it all fell apart. . . .” She stopped and gave me a chagrined look. “Sorry. I’m babbling.”
    â€œNo, not at all. I don’t mind if you want to talk. I’m told I have a very sympathetic manner, probably due to the two years of psychology I took back at the University of Calgary.”
    She looked a bit doubtful, but evidently the promise of a sympathetic ear was too much, because within five minutes, she was telling me about her life, her hopes, and especially her plans of life with Geoff, which had been dashed when he ran away from her growing demands of commitment. “And now,” she finished up some twenty minutes later, “now he says he can’t live without me, and wants me to throw away everything and go to Ibiza with him.”
    â€œThat’s a tough situation,” I said slowly, not wanting to give advice that wasn’t desired (or needed). “I suppose there’s pros and cons to consider.”
    â€œNot so many cons, that’s the problem,” she said miserably, glancing at her phone. “I really have nothing keeping me here. My roommates will replace me without any trouble. I haven’t even started the job I’m on the way to, and it’s only for the summer. And the resort where