Page 7 of The Vet from Snowy River
‘In what way? You didn’t pick some gross colour for my room, did you?’
‘Baby pink, just like you asked for.’
‘I so did not! Bloody hell, Dad.’
He chuckled. ‘Just winding you up. I haven’t got around to paint yet. I only just got the planning notice sign erected out front.’
‘What do you need that for?’
‘It’s a formality for council. Gives the locals a chance to make comment before council approves the plans. The building is heritage listed, you know.’
‘Huh. Like I care about old buildings.’
‘Oh? Well, that’s too bad, because it’syourheritage. I don’t want to mess it up by making a dumb building decision.’
‘What …myheritage?’
‘Well, the building will be partly yours one day. And it’s part of Snowy Mountains history. Not everybody gets to restore a three-storey Victorian stone building built during the gold rush.’
‘Wow. I had no idea it was so old.’
Was that interest he was hearing in his daughter’s voice? She delivered her comments with such a chilly tone, sometimes it was hard to tell.
‘Plus, I’m no good at choosing sheets, or any cooking appliances besides a sandwich maker, and the tiling in the bathroom’s only half done.’
‘You do make epic toasted sandwiches, Dad.’ Yeah—she was definitely warming up a little.
He sighed. Mournfully. ‘I don’t know, Pop. It’s so difficult making all these decisions all by my lonely lonesome self.’
Silence pulsed down the phone line for a long moment.
He broke first. ‘Poppy? You still there?’
‘No. The deputy principal just saw me on my phone, so I’m currently being dragged off to the interrogation room to be torn apart by alsatians.’
He grinned. ‘So, what do you think? Could you spare a teeny-weeny bit of time over your break to help your old dad out?’
‘If this is your idea of bribery, it sucks.’
‘Will you think about it?’
The silence dragged out again, but this time Poppy was the one to end it. ‘I’ll try,’ she said.
‘I love you,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she said, and the line went dead in his ear.
CHAPTER
3
It’s done, Jill,Vera wrote on the letter pad she had perched up against her knees.Our café is open.
Her thoughts wandered as the bubbles in her bathtub made gentle popping noises against her skin. Her aching feet felt better now she had them submersed in hot water, and the lavender oil she’d dolloped into the tub was doing wonders. A half-hour in the tub relaxing, a quick dry of her hair, and she’d be out at Connolly House to see Jill for a sunset tipple of the monstrously sweet sherry her aunt was partial to.
She could call the egg supplier on the drive down to Cooma. She’d need to double her order for the coming week if their first day’s sales were any indication, and she’d need to go visit the local butcher, too, and start prepping the more substantial meal menu she was hoping to offer.
She tapped her pen against the porcelain. Kitchen logistics could go on hold for now, she had to think how to describe today—opening day of The Billy Button Café—to her aunt. She’d been so busy working her butt off, the details were a blur.
