“I was just about to come out to you.” Steve appears then, holding a pint. “Local IPA. One of my favorites. I think you’ll like it.”
I remember tasting it on Tyler’s tongue the last time I was here, and I loved it.
I smile politely as I accept it and then introduce Steve to Jonah and Calla. The conversation doesn’t last long before someone’s pulling Jonah aside, wanting to know about his planes. It’s inevitable.
“Well, the sergeant is waving me down, so … come see me when you’re hungry. Or for any reason.” With one last knowing look, Calla ambles toward Muriel, shedding her coat along the way.
“My friends are over there.” Steve points toward the corner where a group sits, his hand settling on the small of my back, goading me that way.
But my focus quickly snags elsewhere, on the set of hazel eyes locked on me. Tyler’s seen me, and there’s not much I can do but cast a tentative wave.
He returns it with a lazy salute, but his face is stony.
I feel sick, as if I’m doing something wrong when I know I’m not. He’s the one who isn’t ready. Not me. I was ready for everything.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, hoping it hides my inner turmoil. “You know what? I’ll be there in a minute. There’s someone at the bar I need to say hello to first.” I don’t wait for Steve’s response, rushing to the other side of the room, hoping to find temporary haven in Toby.
Only, Harry Hatchett cuts me off.
I stifle my groan.
“Hey, Marie! I was going to come into your clinic next week, but here you are. Man, it’s been awhile, huh?” He smooths a hand through his blond hair.
“Since you tried to tell me how to run my business and then set fire to a four-decade relationship between our families? A few months, yeah.” I am in no mood to be exchanging false pleasantries. I step to the side to go around him.
He moves with me. “I’m sorry.” His face is a mask of sincere apology. “I was an idiot, and I was wrong.”
His blunt admission takes me by surprise.
“The last few years have been hard. It may seem like I know what I’m doing, but half the time, I think I should quit.” He pauses, as if waiting for me to counter his frank words.
I allow the awkward break in conversation to drag on until Harry begins to fidget. “I appreciate your apology. Is there something else you want?” Bonnie must have relayed my father’s advice.
“Okay, what I mean to say is, you and Sid have always been good to us. Too good. You are the best vet I could ever hope for, and I was hoping you’d come back. At least consider it,” he adds quickly. “The dogs would love to see you.”
I know Harry is quickly running out of veterinarians, but I sense remorse in his voice. Taking on his kennel again would alleviate financial worries—that he aggravated in the first place. But I’m not in the right frame of mind to be making commitments to him. “I’ll consider it.”
His shoulders sag with relief.
Seated at Harry’s table is a young woman twirling locks of auburn hair while scrolling through her phone, looking out of place surrounded by a pack of weathered mushers. “You should get back to your date. I’ll let you know what I decide next week.” Let him sweat for a few days.
With that, I head for the bar.
Toby sees me approaching, and his scruffy face splits with a wide smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.” He frowns at the pint in my hand. “Changing things up?”
“Don’t ask.” I set the drink on the counter.
Roy is on the stool next to me, gnawing on a chicken wing. In front of him is a full bottle of beer that will still be full at the end of the night.
“Good wings?”
He grunts in response.
I shrug off my coat and hang it next to his cowboy hat on the wall. “How’s Lucky?” That’s what Mabel’s been calling the white puppy after Roy refused to name it. Agnes and Mabel are keeping her at their place for now, until she gets bigger, and he gets used to the idea of owning another dog.
“Still alive and annoying.”
And wearing a pink collar that Roy drove into town to buy for her, from what I’ve heard.
“Marie!” Agnes saunters through the swinging tavern-style door, holding a tray of clean glasses. Around her hips is a bar apron with several beer bottle openers holstered in the pockets.
“Agnes? You work here now?”
“I’m helpin’ out. Pouring drinks and giving people advice.” She grins as she carefully positions a pint glass to the draft tap, dispensing the beer with the skill of a person just learning how. “I always wanted to be a bartender, ever since I saw Cocktail. What do you think? Do I look like Tom Cruise?”