Page 122 of The Vet from Snowy River
‘So what do you say? Does your gift want a little more input into how this café is going to go in the future?’
‘I’ll need to think about this, Vera. Talk it over with Alex.’
‘I know. I’ll send you the financials since we opened. The lease is a liability you need to consider. Maybe get a finance person to advise you.’
Graeme was leaning back in his chair, surveying the dimly lit interior of the café. The Billy Button had evolved over the months they’d run it together; the newness of the furniture had mellowed, her ferns in their brass pots had grown leggy and lush, the painting of the high country she’d bought from the Cooma markets echoed the splendour of the view through the old windows.
‘I have had some ideas,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘I bet you have. Like what?’
‘Like … a much bigger wine list. Big enough to support a wine bar in the back room on a Friday and Saturday night. Maybe Sunday afternoons, too, with a little live jazz set up in the window bay. In winter, with the fire going, we explore the reds. Cabernets from Margaret River. Shiraz from the Barossa. Grapes, mulled wine, pot roasts with dumplings and duck-fat potatoes.’
‘Oh, just excuse me while I mop up my drool. Fabulous idea,’ she grinned. ‘This is why we make a great team, Graeme. You’ve got vision and people skills, and I’ve got a lot of angst that enjoys being thrashed out in a kitchen under a rolling pin.’
‘I’ll think it over. Although, worst case scenario, hon … finding a cook to replace you won’t be easy.’
Vera looked up. ‘Flatterer.’
‘And it’ll eat into my share of the profits.’
She choked on her sip. ‘Okay, also true. But I’m saving that particular worry for later.’
Graeme’s warm hand rested on hers. ‘I have a good feeling about the future, Vera. Mine and yours.’
She smiled. ‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Come on. Let’s lock up together. Want me to drive you home?’
‘I drove today. My car’s out back in the alley.’
‘I’ll walk you there, then.’
CHAPTER
38
Vera almost had a skip in her step as she let herself out of the kitchen and into the alley. She’d made a small move in the right direction with Josh today, and that had felt good. Offering Graeme a share in The Billy Button Café … that felt good, too.
Maybe Marigold was right. Maybe shecouldhope, just a little. Even if Josh had stopped popping into her café. Even if he just smiled politely at her now whenever they met in the street, and didn’t linger to chat. She was the one who’d let him down—
A deep, sinister yowl rose up from the shadows by the rubbish bin and she paused. Surely grey cat hadn’t found her way back to the alley from her apartment?
‘You hear that, Graeme?’
Her bunch of keys was jangling in the door lock, but still she heard a faint scuffle. ‘Daisy?’
Nothing. Of course … she’d taken so long to name the stray cat who’d befriended her, why would the cat respond? She flipped over the phone and used the screen to illuminate the rubbish bin. ‘Grey cat?’ Two round, yellow eyes gleamed back at her from a still, sprawled shape.
‘Oh no,’ she murmured. ‘No, no, no!’
‘What is it, Vera?’
‘I think—’
She couldn’t say it. The alley was cool now the sun had hidden itself behind the mountain range, and shreds of leaf litter skittered along the old brick gutter. Her handbag slipped from her fingers as she ran forward.
‘Oh god.’
