Regret Not a Moment by Nicole McGehee

quiet trouble of her sister, was disturbed. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, studying Devon’s face.
    Devon jumped a bit as Grace’s voice intruded on her reflections. She had almost forgotten her presence. Laughing lightly in an attempt to hide her mood, she replied, “Nothing’s wrong. I just was thinking how much I miss having you around to talk to.”
    Grace looked at her skeptically, but let the matter rest. “Well, as you know, I’ll talk your ear off while I’m here. Enough to compensate for all the times I’m not here,” she said self-mockingly.
    “Tell me everything about Paris, Grace. Do you love it? Your letters always make your life sound so glamorous!”
    “There is a certain glamour to life there, but it rains a beastly amount,” said Grace with a laugh. “Almost as bad as London.”
    “But you seem to prefer it to London,” said Devon.
    “Oh, yes. I like the freedom of Paris. I like the way Frenchmen look at a woman. I like the way Frenchwomen dress and behave. I’ve rather adopted the French outlook, I’m afraid. I’m not certain how well I’ll do when we have to move on,” said Grace, with a sigh of regret.
    “What do you mean, the French outlook?”
    “Well, you’ve been there. It seems that women are regarded as desirable until they are really quite old. As I grow older, I find that trait very endearing. Then, there’s always such scandalously juicy gossip. It seems that love affairs are, if not exactly accepted, at least not too harshly judged. Mind you, I would kill Philip if he ever… well, you know… but it does lend a certain piquancy to social gatherings. And there’s something else, too. Many of society’s intellectual leaders in Paris are women. Women are valued for their intelligence. I find that refreshing, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” said Devon, with more intensity than she intended. “It sounds quite ideal. I guess I wasn’t there long enough to find out much about how the society works. And I was there as a tourist.”
    “Wouldn’t you like to come for a visit? You know we’d love to have you.” Grace took Devon’s hand in hers and squeezed it.
    Devon squeezed back, loving her sister so very much. How she wished Grace lived closer! “Maybe when I’m back on my feet again. Of course, that won’t be for months. It would be fun to travel back together on the ship though, wouldn’t it? But I don’t suppose you can stay that long,” said Devon with disappointment.
    Grace, concerned at her sister’s uncharacteristically low spirits, attempted to tease her out of her mood. “Well, I’ll certainly stay until you get your looks back. If I leave before then, I’ll have no memory of what the beauty of the family is supposed to look like.” Grace was not a beauty like Devon. Her round face was nothing like Devon’s high-cheekboned one, nor did her coloration have any of the drama of Devon’s. Whereas Devon had startling aqua eyes with shining ebony hair, Grace had more mundane brown eyes with curly auburn hair. But Grace had a sparkle that made men flock to her. With her dramatic style of dressing and her theatrical gestures, she had never had cause to envy her younger sister’s looks. Instead, she took great pride in Devon’s beauty.
    Devon frowned at the mention of her appearance. “My looks? Fat lot of good they’ve done me so far.”
    “What’s this? Self-pity? That’s something I’ve never heard from you, Devon,” said Grace, going from gay to serious in a split second as she sensed her sister’s depression.
    “It’s not self-pity exactly. I guess I’m just cranky from being in bed all this time,” said Devon, ashamed that she had succumbed to such an unworthy emotion within minutes of her sister’s arrival. But Grace was so sympathetic, so comforting. And Devon had always shared her deepest secrets with her.
    “You’re not just cranky,” said Grace sternly. “Tell me what’s bothering you. I know something is.”
    Devon did