Nicolette did as her mother suggested and by the time she got settled, Cook appeared on the porch with a small pitcher of icy margaritas and a glass with a salted rim.
Cook’s name was really Hattie Tibideaux, but she’d been the cook for the Sandbur for so many years that everyone simply called her by her profession. Her age had inched beyond seventy now, yet her tall, bony figure was more spry than a woman twenty years younger. In spite of her advanced age, her black hair was only sprinkled with sparse amounts of gray and most often it was pulled severely back from her face in either a ponytail or braid. Her fingernails and lips were always painted red and Nicolette figured the woman had been an exotic beauty in her heyday.
“Thank you, Cook, you’re too sweet,” Nicolette told her as she placed the pitcher and glass on a small table between the two women.
Cook rose up to her full height and with her hands on her slim hips gave Nicolette a quick survey.
“You look like hell, Miss Nicci. Are they trying to kill you over there at that clinic?”
“Not really. There’s just lots of sick folks these days.”
The older woman clicked her tongue with disapproval. “Too much hustle and bustle. That’s what makes ’em sick. If things were quiet and slow, we’d all live a lot longer.”
Nicolette gave the woman a tired smile. “Looks like the fast pace agrees with you, Cook. You don’t look a day older than you did ten years ago.”
“Hah!” With a loud snort, she waved a dismissive hand at Nicolette and started toward the door. “I don’t have a fast pace, Miss Nicci, I stay in the kitchen. Where I’m happy.”
The older woman disappeared into the house and Nicolette poured herself a small drink. “I guess that’s Cook’s secret to good health and longevity. She’s happy,” she said pensively.
Geraldine looked thoughtfully at her. “Speaking of being happy, there’s something on your face tonight, darling, that worries me. Is anything wrong? You’re not dwelling on Bill, are you?”
Frowning, Nicolette took a long sip from her glass and glanced out at the wide lawn sloping away from the house. Huge spreading live oaks obstructed the view of the night sky, but between the dipping branches the twinkling lights of her cousin’s house could be seen, along with several nightlights skirting the barns and feed lots. For now the ranch was quiet and peaceful and she felt its soothing arms wrap around her weary shoulders.
“If you think I’m still grieving over Bill, you couldn’t be more wrong,” she said flatly.
Geraldine softly drummed her fingers against the arm of the lawn chair. “You can’t deny you were terribly hurt when he left you for that—that other woman.”
Nicolette inwardly cringed. Tonight she was hardly in the mood to discuss Bill or her failed marriage, but she didn’t want to cut her mother’s questions short. Nicolette knew from experience that to do so would only make her mother dig more.
“You know how I feel about that, Mother. It wasn’t entirely his fault. I left him alone too many nights and he…decided to stray.”
“My Lord, you were working, Nicci! It wasn’t like you were out prowling with tom cats while he sat home pining for you.”
That much was true, Nicolette thought dismally. But she’d worked incessantly to make herself forget that her husband had misled her, that none of the special plans they’d made before their marriage would ever come true.
“Believe me, none of what Bill did or didn’t do matters anymore, Mother.”
Geraldine rolled her eyes. “How can you say that when the whole horrible affair is still leading you around by the nose? If it didn’t matter, you would have already found yourself another man by now. You’d be married and having kids. Instead, you’re still killing yourself trying to doctor half the town!”
Nicolette stiffened with resentment. “Is there anything wrong with that? I thought helping people to be healthy was a noble cause.”
“Damn it, Nicci, it is noble. But there are other things to life, you know. I’d like to have grandchildren before I die.”
The lonely pain that always lingered in Nicolette’s chest throbbed to life. “Lex or Mercedes will give you grandchildren, when the time comes. Besides, you’re a long way from dying, Mother.”
A disbelieving snort slipped from the older woman as she eyed her eldest child. “I might be a long way from dying, but your brother and sister are even further away from giving me grandchildren. Lex is too much of a playboy to be settling down anytime soon, if ever. And as for Mercedes, she’s never going to get over that bastard in college that broke her heart. At least, not enough to marry and have a family.”
For some odd reason, the image of Ridge Garroway popped into Nicolette’s mind and she wondered if he was a man who would want to settle down and have children. He seemed far from the sort. In fact, with his looks and playful charm, he could have a Nurse Good Body waiting for him in every nook and cranny of the hospital.
Nicolette took another long sip of her drink and hoped the tequila would fuzz the intrusive image of the doctor’s impish grin. “Mercedes is in the Air Force, Mother. She has other things on her mind right now. Give her time.”
Geraldine slowly shook her head in dismay. “I might as well face the fact that life is different from when I was your age,” she muttered. “Back then, young people considered finding a permanent mate an important part of their life.”
“It still is important. It’s just more difficult for us to do.”
As she absently combed fingers through her mussed hair, Nicolette glanced over at her mother. “What in the world has got you off on this subject anyway? It isn’t like you to start harping on your children.”
Geraldine shrugged with concession. “I wasn’t thinking about any of it until you sat down here beside me and I saw your sad face. I thought it might be Bill, but—I guess I was wrong. Want to tell me?”
Nicolette finished off the last of her drink and placed her glass next to the sweaty pitcher. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ve had a very long day. On top of that I met the doctor who took Dr. Walters’s place.”
Sudden interest caused Geraldine to sit straight up in her chair. “Oh? How did that go? What was he like?”
It was all Nicolette could do to keep from groaning out loud. “He was—well, to be honest I’m shocked the clinic hired someone so young. I heard he’s twenty-nine.”
“Being young is hardly a crime,” Geraldine pointed out.
Nicolette grimaced. “It means he can’t have much experience.”
“Everyone has to start at the beginning. You were there once,” Geraldine reminded her.
Sighing, Nicolette said, “Yes, I know. But Dr. Walters was so wonderful. And this new man—just doesn’t seem that professional to me.”
Geraldine’s brows arched upward. “Really? What makes you say that?”
With the fingers of both hands, Nicolette massaged her aching forehead. How could she describe that gleam in Ridge Garroway’s eyes or that wink he’d given her without throwing for flags at her mother? “He, uh, just doesn’t look like a doctor,” she said lamely.
Suddenly loud laughter erupted from Geraldine, causing Nicolette to cast an annoying look her mother’s way.
“Why are you laughing? It’s the truth. He looked more like some—I don’t know—some playboy than a medical person.”
Still chuckling, Geraldine asked, “Since when did looks have anything to do with being a doctor? C’mon, Nicci, don’t you think you’re reaching a little far to find something wrong with the man?”
With thoughtful