Page 7 of Love, Morgan

Somewhat annoyed with myself for giving in to thoughts of my parents on yet another vacation, I pulled out my phone and dialed Ripley. She was going to be at work, but it was early, and she could still take my call.

“Good morning, Morgan,” she said as she answered, sounding wide awake and happy. “How’s the airport?”

I groaned. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked with a laugh.

“Be so awake in the morning. You sound like it’s not torture being up at this time.”

“I’m always up at this time, Morgan. The shop opens at nine. You know this.”

“I do, but I feel like the Grim Reaper woke me up and dragged me over the fiery coals of hell.”

She laughed, clearly having no idea how painful her life was. “I’m going to once again remind you that you’re up so you can head off on a wonderful, tropical vacation. Isn’t that worth the early wake-up call?”

“Not yet it’s not.” I took another bite of one of my doughnuts. “Though, admittedly, these doughnuts are making life a little better.”

“And I’m not?”

“Do you think I would have called you if you were going to make life worse?”

She laughed, and I could imagine the way she must be shaking her head. “I guess that’s the highest form of flattery I’m getting from you.”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said through a mouthful of doughnut. “My company is amazing and you wouldn’t get it if you weren’t truly worthy.”

“Remind me to thank the gods for blessing me later.”

“Why not now? I’m right here. Thank me.”

She laughed again. “Thank you, Morgan, for blessing me. Now, tell me, is everything going well? All packed and checked in?”

I huffed. “You mean, did I manage to pack my own suitcase, or am I here with just my carry-on?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Hm. Yes. While you were off gallivanting with your wife last night, I packed my suitcase. But, when I’m inevitably without an outfit I need, I’m blaming you.”

“Hey, you’d have been in worse condition if I'd packed for you. I’d only have given you beachwear.”

“Ripley Stone, how are you so uncouth? What would you wear to dinner? What would you wear to the spa? What would you wear around the resort?”

The bell at Petal and Pebble tinkled in the background of the call and I heard her greeting someone before returning to our conversation. “Morgan Franklin, are you telling me you don’t think there are going to be people living in swimsuits and coverups for the next two weeks? Because do I have news for you…”

“The restaurant has a dress code.” I scowled, shaking my head, even though she couldn’t see me.

“Then, as I said, it’s a good thing I didn’t pack for you, because you’d have been stuck eating sand.”

“You’re the worst. And I know you know how to pack. I’ve seen all the pictures from your vacations with Alicia. Iknowyou get dressed up for dinner.”

“And I look forward to seeing how you get dressed up for dinner in the clothes you packed.” She paused briefly to allow me to grumble before continuing. “But I have to go now. Freddie’s here and they brought lemon squares.”

“Ah! I want a lemon square.”

Freddie was the best at-home baker in all of Jackson Point. They almost always brought treats to our bridge games, but I could never get enough of their baking.

Ripley snorted. “You have doughnuts.”

“I want lemon squares too,” I said, pouting.

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