on Yelp. The reviews said it has a lot of local flavor.”
“And the best margaritas ever,” one of the other women said.
“And curly fries,” the third woman said. “I love curly fries.”
The fourth, a petite blonde with too much makeup and a haughty expression, glanced at the stuffed javelina. “I see you have a wild boar by your door,” she said, looking Terri up and down. “I’m betting you shot it yourself.”
The other women snickered.
“You betcha,” Terri said. “Dropped him with a single shot right between the eyes. I don’t stand for anything charging at me, man or beast.”
Of course, the javelina had actually come from an estate sale Eve had run a year ago, but Terri had never been one to let the truth get in the way of a good story.
“Shall I make that four margaritas, then?” she asked the women.
Three of them nodded enthusiastically. The blonde, however, shook her head. “No. I’ll have a glass of Prosecco.”
“Champagne?” Terri said. “Honey, we don’t even have that on New Year’s Eve.”
The blonde looked exasperated. “Do you have white wine?”
“Yep. I think I can scare up some of that.”
The only reason Terri sold wine in addition to beer and hard liquor was because Cordero Vineyards was right in her backyard, and she wholeheartedly believed in supporting her fellow businessmen.
Just then, the squeal of microphone feedback filled the room. Rufus lifted his head and howled, and everybody in the place laughed. Everybody except the little blonde, who crinkled her nose with disgust. “Oh, my God. You have a dog in here?”
“That’s not a dog,” Terri said. “It’s an eighty-year-old man with an extra-long nose and floppy ears.”
“No, that’s a dog,” the blonde said, as if it needed saying.
“You do realize you’re in Rainbow Valley, don’t you?” Terri said. “Where pets outnumber people?”
“But I can’t believe you keep an animal in a place where you sell food.”
“He lives here,” Terri said. “It’d be downright unhospitable for me to ask him to leave.”
The woman turned up her nose at Rufus, then leaned in and whispered none too quietly to her friends. “That is so unhygienic. What if he licks something?”
Terri put her fist on her hip. “His mouth is a damn sight cleaner than yours, Twinkie.”
The blonde whipped around. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”
“Did you really not hear me, or are you asking me to repeat it because you think I won’t?”
The woman raised her nose a notch. “I’d like to speak to your manager, please.”
“Don’t have one of those.”
“Then I’d like to speak to the owner.”
“You’re talking to her.”
The woman drew back. “You’re the owner, and you talk like this to your customers?”
“I’m the owner, and I talk like this to people who say nasty things about my dog. Now, you gonna order, or should I get Rufus to lick something so you’ll leave?”
The woman snatched up her purse. “Come on, girls. Let’s go.”
“But I’m hungry,” one said.
“And they have curly fries,” another said.
“And margaritas—”
“Now!”
As the blonde and her entourage hightailed it away from the table, Shannon, Eve, Cynthia, and Tasha looked at each other with trepidation. Sure enough, Terri followed the women all the way to the door.
“Uh-oh,” Eve said. “Here it comes.”
“And don’t let the door hit you in the ass!” Terri shouted.
“Oh, my God,” Shannon said, dropping her head to her hands. “It’s a wonder she has any customers at all.”
“Hey, that woman was crabby,” Cynthia said. “I’m glad she’s gone.”
“Me, too,” Shannon said. “But Terri has bills to pay.”
Terri came back to the bar to find all three women staring at her. She blinked. “What?”
“You might try being a teensy bit nicer to your customers,” Eve said. “Even the difficult ones.”
“Okay, so how about I send that blond chick over to the Red Barn and let her bitch about the cat cooties all over your furniture?”
“On second thought,” Eve said, raising her glass, “life’s too short to put up with pissy people.”
The women clinked glasses and drank. A few moments later, the band stopped tuning up and the lead guitarist took the microphone.
“It’s nice to see all y’all here tonight,” he said. “Let’s get this party started!”
With that, the band launched into a bouncy country song, and everybody cheered. Couples got up from tables and made their way to the dance floor. Shannon, Eve, Cynthia, and Tasha turned on their barstools to watch. Shannon never danced—she’d been born with zero rhythm and a pitiful lack of coordination—but she liked watching other people do it.