Page 12 of A Cowboy's Bride
“Just a welcome-to-town shot,” Sydney promised. She cracked the bottle and poured them small glasses, handing them around. She lifted hers in the air. “To Petra, who can take names and kick ass but also knows when it’s time to run.”
Petra considered then realized it was probably the wisest toast she’d heard in her life. “You should’ve said that when I was a little tipsy, because I would’ve offered homage to you from now till eternity.”
Sydney raised her glass in the air and they clinked them together. “To Petra.”
“To Petra,” Tansy repeated.
“To friends,” Petra insisted.
The burn of the liquid down her throat was a reminder of what it felt like to be alive. A little bit of pain mixed with the sweet.
Her happiness was up to her. Her choices, her decisions. While the last six months had been tough, and she wouldn’t have wished it on anyone else, she was here now, stronger because of it.
Ready to make a difference.
“Before we do anything else, we have gifts.” Tansy pulled a bag from beside the couch and passed it to Petra. “Welcome-to-town gifts. Small ones from me and Sydney.”
“To prove we planned ahead,” Sydney added with a glare at Tansy.
Tansy snickered.
Petra discovered a hard object wrapped in tissue. “Candles? I love candles.”
“We know this,” Tansy fluttered her fingers to hurry up. “Unwrap. This century.”
Tempting as it was to tease her friend and remove the paper slowly, Petra didn’t have the patience. She tore it off and held candle one aloft and read out loud. “I’d Shank A Bitch For You.”She snickered even as she peered at the much smaller writing underneath. “Right In The Kidneys. Thanks, Sydney. It’s a sweet sentiment, and totally you.”
“You’re welcome.” The petite woman grinned. “Anytime, anywhere.”
“Read mine,” Tansy demanded.
This one also made Petra grin. “BESTIE: the one who will tell you that you are full of shit but support any and all stupid choices you make when called upon to do so.” She hugged Tansy. “You guys are the best.”
“We’re glad you’re here,” Tansy said, a hint of seriousness in her expression. “And now, let’s eat.”
They dove in hard on the wings and treats, conversation flowing rather than liquor. It had been over a year since they’d truly gotten to catch up, and all of them had big news to share.
“I could have the door of the clinic open from five in the morning to past midnight, and there’d always be somebody in the waiting room,” Sydney told them. “Of course, I’m not doing that,” she said quickly when Petra began to ask a question. “I run the clinic four days a week, based on my priorities. Then I make a lot of house calls.”
Tansy jerked her thumb at Sydney as she explained to Petra. “She’s visiting all the seniors who either can’t get out or refuse to get checked. They call her Captain Jeremiah because when she shows up, nobody dares countermand her orders.”
“Oh, please,” Sydney said dryly. “It’sGeneralJeremiah, thank you very much.”
“Good for you,” Petra said. “You’re probably still working more hours than a regular nine to five.”
“I don’t think there’s a doctor alive who works a regular nine to five,” Sydney offered. “Trust me, I’m getting enough sleep, especially compared to my interning days. This is why I wanted to be in Heart Falls. If I’d wanted tons of billable hours, I’d have gone to the big city.”
“You’d think sometimes we were in the big city the way people moan about a lack of access,” Tansy complained. “Buns and Roses is also what we want it to be. Coffee, breakfast, lunch. I’m not staying open for dinner where people book tables then don’t show up.”
It was a different business than Petra had ever worked in. “They really think they’re in charge?”
“The customer is always right.” Tansy said perkily before sticking out her tongue. “Bah, humbug. I believe in customer service, and I believe in serving a good product, but if it’s not on the menu, don’t ask for it. I get that people have allergies, and I absolutely make sure I have menu choices available for them, but I’m not listening to somebody who sneakily tells me how to make their omelet, including how many shakes of salt, and the pan temperature, and which spatula to flip it with.”
“They don’t,” Petra goggled at the idea.
“Oh, they do. Or at least attempt to. Then I seem to mysteriously run out of ingredients.” Tansy’s grin was pure evil.
“Chefs are supposed to be temperamental and a little diva-ish,” Sydney leaned back in her chair and rested her hands on her stomach. “Oh my God, that was delish. If you did decide to open a place that served dinner, you could cook whatever the hell you wanted and people would buy it up in a minute.”
