Page 92 of The Vet from Snowy River
‘I’ll make copies of all these so you can give her the file,’ said Sandy.
‘Thanks, Josh,’ said Hannah. ‘Thanks, Sandy. I’m not sure I could be the one who … it’s just … dealing with stuff isn’t really my special skill.’
‘No big deal, Hannah Banana. I’ve got your back.’ Yet another reason he’d fought so hard to come home: he didn’t want to leave Hannah on her own when their parents decided their retirement involved circumnavigating the country in a motorhome.
She butted her head into his shoulder so her thanks came out muffled against his shirt, but he got the gist.
She lifted her head. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have just ignored the first letter. If I’d been more proactive and told them to rack off, they’d have got the message and stopped harassing us.’
‘We’re too nice. That’s the problem,’ said Josh.
‘Correction. You’ve been too nice. I’m bitchy as hell, but only in the privacy of my own bathroom. I can’t take this on, Josh. I can’t do conflict.’
He put down the letter and his coffee and wrapped her in a hug. ‘I know. Hannah, I’ve got this.’
She didn’t need more pressure in her life. And damn it, he’d worked too hard to get tripped up by some crackbrained vendetta against the Cody vet business.
He’d sort this. Somehow.
CHAPTER
29
The gracious old snow gum in the centre of the town square was lit with a thousand white fairy lights. Around it, the timber and stone Federation buildings were mostly dark, their shopfronts closed and tidied away for the night; the residents of their upper storeys tucked into bed with a book, a chamomile tea, a late-night bingefest of their favourite show.
The world kept going round, even while it felt like it was ending.
Her indicator tick-tick-ticked in time with her thoughts as she slowed to make the turn into Dandaloo Drive. She had to be in the café at dawn the next morning which was—she looked at her watch—dear god, only eight hours from now. Food prep, check the catering jobs, order supplies. After the breakfast rush, she’d duck out to Connolly House and sit with her aunt for a while. Maybe she could work on the summer menu while she was visiting; tourists would be plentiful, and that would mean more slices to bake, more sandwiches to fill, more cold drinks to stock. Perhaps a line of picnic lunches for the hikers who’d flock to the Snowy River National Park over summer.
A busy day tomorrow, which was good. Busy meant no time for brooding about going to trial.
The three-storey building that was home to the Cody and Cody Vet Clinic loomed on her left and she took her foot off the accelerator. Not a crumbling ruin, then, despite the yellow crime scene tape flickering across the plywood sheeting where the clinic’s front windows used to be.
She eased into the kerb and sat awhile, surveying the charred bricks and rubble tumbling down the front steps.
She wasn’t the only one who’d had a crap few days, she should remember that. Movement in the narrow street that ran down the side of the building caught her eye. A man stood there, his hands shoved in his pockets, staring up at the building.
She couldn’t make out his face, but she knew it was Josh. She didn’t know how she knew it, she just did. Damn guy had snuck his way in past her defences while she was distracted by all that handsome manness.
Before her head could persuade her otherwise, she slid her fingers into the catch of her car door and opened it, to step out into the chill mountain night. A low woof sounded, and Jane Doe came scampering up to push her wet nose into Vera’s hand.
‘Hey, girl,’ she said and pulled a soft ear through her fingers.
Josh turned his head and watched her as she walked towards him.
‘Hey,’ she said.
She stood next to him and looked up to where he was looking. Stone. Timber windows trimmed in white. The gracious acanthus brackets of a bygone era carved beneath the old parlour windows of the upper floors.
The breeze off the lake had more than a whisper of cold in it but she welcomed it. The drive up from Queanbeyan had taken two hours, but it felt like she’d travelled back through history a hundred years. City traffic, diesel fumes, crowds … she’d barely noticed the busyness of Queanbeyan when she’d lived there, but these few months she’d been living in Hanrahan had changed her.
She pulled in a lungful of air, smelled the lake water, eucalypts, a lingering curl of woodsmoke from the fire. And Josh.
‘I’m so sorry about your building,’ she said.
‘Mmm.’
‘You get all the animals out?’
