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"So where do you go for cocktails in New York?" Cole asked, gripping the stem of his maraschino cherry, and using it to stir his drink.
"I don't go out much, really. We had a mixologist at The Tortoise named Pavel."
"A mixologist?"
"Right. It's just a pretentious word for a cocktail-maker. Or bartender, I guess."
"So, did you get to try his recipes?"
"Not often. But they were always super-fancy. He'd do stuff like dip leather in alcohol to extract its flavor. Or freeze-dry olives to make olive dust.”
“Mmm. Dust.”
“Pavel would probably laugh at these cocktails. Call them basic," I admitted, rolling my eyes playfully. I took another sip of the Negroni, letting the flavors dance on my tongue. "But hey, basic doesn't mean bad, right?"
"Damn straight. Sometimes, the simplest things are the best. What is it about the New York you love so much?"
I sighed. "It's just all the . . . life. The people. The opportunities. All the variety and excitement."
"Sounds like with your job you didn't have much time to experience it, though."
"True. It was a lot of work."
"Exciting work, though?"
"Yeah. Although I never felt satisfied, exactly."
"You're ambitious. Always want more. I used to be like that."
Our chat was interrupted by a sudden cry of, "Cole? Are you drinking a cocktail?" It was Ida. She came bustling across the diner and stood next to us.
"I don't believe it. You're drinking something that's not beer or whiskey."
"I'm expanding my horizons."
Ida looked at me. "How's the drink, hun?"
"Yummy, thank you."
"Cole, before I forget—I need to talk to you about the diner's gutters."
Cole sighed, shooting me an apologetic look. "Right, I forgot. You need me to take a look?"
"Please. And I was hoping you could check out the storm drain, too. This run of good weather isn't going to last forever."
"Of course. As soon as I've wrapped up the bar job, I'll swing by."
Cole was always there for the people of the town. Any time anyone asked him for help, it was like he couldn't bring himself to say no. He was a hero.
"Thank you so much. I appreciate it. You both look nice, by the way." Her eyes narrowed. "And cozy."
"It's a comfy place," I said, feeling suddenly under scrutiny. "Very plush booths."
"It is," Cole agreed, sounding slightly awkward. "And the booths are, indeed, plush."
"I didn't know the two of you were such good . . . friends?" She looked between the two of us, like a chihuahua trying to decide whether or not to cross a road.
Cole's eyes met mine. I give him a tiny nod.
