Page 25 of The Cocktail Bar
“It’s just not really what I had in mind,” she said, swallowing hard on the urge to take him in her arms and kiss him passionately to make up for upsetting him. “Waitressing, playing barmaid, it would feel ever so slightly like I’d taken several hundred steps backwards. I mean yes, I’m back, and I don’t want the celebrity lifestyle any more than you do, but if life takes on any proper meaning now, then that meaning has to be following my passion too. And that’s horses. I know my parents sold mine, but there are so many villages and riding centres surrounding us here that for sure I have to be able to find something, even if that’s a stable hand, or a live-in position on a farm. I’m not fussy. All I want is not so much a foot up the ladder as a foot in the saddle. I’m young, I’m fit and active, and the time is now. If not now, when?” She raised the cold glass to her lips and took her first sip of creamy vodka coffee goodness. “Oh god this is incredible. Way better than New Orleans, way better… How do you do it, River?”
“I see, and I totally support you,” he ignored her praise, evidently still more than a little disappointed that she hadn’t snapped his arm off for the opportunity. “That’s the way I felt about the bar, it’s a good sign when it sets you on fire like that. Well, you know I’m here to help you in any way I can, even if it’s just driving you to an interview. We’ll get you riding again. Before you know it, you’ll be competing again too, just like you used to.”
“One trot at a time,” she laughed, and then downgraded to a smile of relief as she realised he was – at least trying – to be genuinely happy for her decision.
“Oh, and by the way, what was that envelope you mentioned earlier? I checked in the pocket at the back of the book,” she put her glass down and picked the giant cocktail book up to demonstrate. “But it’s empty; no trace of an envelope anywhere.”
Her words cast River to stone.
“I’m guessing it was pretty important, huh?”
“Shit,” said River finally. “Oh Shit.”
