the house than a hospital room,” Nicolette reminded her. “And by the way, what is that you’re drinking?”
“Cook made me a mild margarita. And believe me, there’s not enough tequila in it to make a bird stagger, much less give your old mother a buzz, so quit worrying.”
With another heavy sigh, Nicolette sank into a chair positioned at an angle to her mother’s. “I guess I sound bossy, don’t I? But I just want you to get back to your old self.”
For the past two weeks Nicolette’s mother had been very ill with an acute case of summer bronchitis. At sixty-three Geraldine still looked young for her age and she was normally strong and healthy, but the summer had been extremely dry and dusty. With Lex and Matteo both busy, she’d taken on the job of overseeing the hay baling in the south meadow. The fog of dust and hay had done a number on her lungs and the only thing that had kept the woman out of the hospital was Nicolette’s diligent care.
“I understand that, honey. And you have your right to gripe at me. I caused you to miss two weeks of work. How am I ever going to repay you?”
Nicolette chuckled. Money was not an issue with her or any of her family for that matter. After nearly a century of raising some of the finest beef cattle and cutting horses in the business, the ranch had made both the Saddler and Sanchez families extremely wealthy. Nicolette worked in medicine because she’d always had a deep need to help people, not to make a living.
“Stay out of the hayfield. That’s how.”
The silver-haired woman held her glass out toward Nicolette. “Have a sip. From the looks of you, you need it.”
Nicolette groaned. Her mother didn’t have to tell her she looked as tired as dirty dishwater. She’d unfortunately caught a glimpse of herself tonight in the restroom mirror before she’d left the clinic. Her brown hair was fuzzed, dark crescents smudged the skin beneath her eyes, and her skin was pasty with fatigue. If Dr. Ridge Garroway saw her now, she very much doubted he’d give her one of those gleaming smiles. But that didn’t matter, she silently insisted. She didn’t want one of his smiles or anything else the man had to offer. She wasn’t in the market for romance.
“I do need a drink,” Nicolette admitted. “I’ve had a long, long day. Everyone seemed to be ailing with something. Dr. Kelsey couldn’t keep up and sent several patients down to my office.”
Geraldine reached for the cell phone on the coffee table and began to punch numbers. “Poor darling, put your feet up and I’ll call Cook.”
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.”
