Nine #2
‘Oh.’ She smiled, and her skin cracked into an entire ecosystem of ravines, her face the kind of deep brown that indicated long-term sun exposure. ‘Rowena. How lovely to meet you.’ She stalked forward, absently wiping her hands on her apron before extending one. ‘I’ve heard all about you.’
Rowena frowned. From Lachlan …?
Those shrewd eyes missed nothing and Reggie hastened to clarify. ‘Sorry, I meant about the way you came into town.’
Oh, that. Rowena laughed at the relief of it and took the crinkled, callused hand in hers for a brief, firm shake. ‘Yeah. It wasn’t exactly the way I’d planned it.’
‘Well, you know what they say, darl. Man plans, god laughs.’
After less than a minute in Lachlan’s grandmother’s company, she wouldn’t have pegged her as religious.
She looked like she’d had a hard life and could easily be forgiven for a lack of faith, but a small gold cross hung around her wrinkled neck and on the wall above the table hung a solitary crucifix.
‘Indeed,’ Rowena agreed. She was living proof of that! ‘I’m sorry for just landing on you like this. I did suggest to Lachlan that he ring ahead and let you know.’
She swatted away the explanation like a bothersome fly. ‘Nonsense. There’s always enough food to go around, and any friend of Lachy’s is welcome at our table.’
‘Speaking of,’ Lachlan said, his head tipping in the direction of the table, ‘this is Reggie’s partner, Albert.’
Rowena smiled and extended her hand as Albert stood. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said as his big hand enveloped hers.
‘And you,’ he acknowledged with a quick, firm shake.
‘Dinner smells great, I’m starving.’ Lachlan wandered over to the oven and grabbed one of the roast potatoes out of the dish his grandmother had just removed.
Reggie smacked his hand. ‘You’re always starving.’ She glanced at Rowena. ‘Never could fill him up.’
‘Always had hollow legs,’ Albert agreed.
Lachlan grinned. ‘Only because you’re the best cook in the district.’
Albert shook his head as he gestured for Lachlan to grab him a potato. ‘In the country, I reckon.’
Reggie rolled her eyes at them both as Lachlan swiped another spud. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’
Rowena watched as Lachlan handed over the contraband to Albert, the affection between all three of them not only obvious but palpable.
It hinted at longevity and she wondered about Albert and Reggie’s story and how it intersected with Lachlan’s.
It wasn’t any of her business but, given the reputation of outback Australia not being a bastion of tolerance, it definitely piqued her curiosity.
‘Make yourself useful, Lachy, and show Rowena where she can wash up. Dinner’s in fifteen. Just gotta make the gravy.’
Lachlan saluted his grandmother, who whipped up the tea towel hanging off the oven door and quickly flicked at him with it. He managed to evade the manoeuvre, but only just.
Grinning at his grandmother, he said, ‘This way,’ to Rowena, who followed him, also with a smile on her face.
*
If the aroma hadn’t already confirmed it, Rowena only had to take one morsel of the lamb to know Lachlan had not been exaggerating his grandmother’s cooking prowess. She had to bite her tongue from groaning out loud at the succulent flavour of the melt-on-her-tongue meat.
‘What did I tell you?’
She dragged her eyes away from her plate to find Lachlan watching her. To find them all watching. ‘You were right.’ Rowena smiled as she fixed her gaze on the woman in question. ‘She is a wizard. This lamb is magic in my mouth.’
Reggie chuckled, dismissing the compliment with a wave of her hand. ‘It’s not rocket science, darl.’
‘No,’ Lachlan said with a smile. ‘It’s witchcraft.’
Reggie gave a snorty-cackly laugh, which did nothing to dispel the suggestion, and Rowena smiled as she returned her concentration to her plate. There was no chatter then for quite a few minutes, just the scrape of cutlery against crockery and the occasional murmur of appreciation.
Eventually, though, conversation restarted, Rowena bombarding them all with questions about the farm and lambing and shearing and markets. It was interesting stuff, with the added bonus of avoiding any questions coming her way.
‘Could you pass me the mint sauce, please, Ro?’ Lachlan asked.
Rowena passed the mint sauce, which was also homemade and mind-blowingly divine. Apparently, Reggie had her own herb garden down the far side of the house.
Placing her knife and fork down, Reggie, who’d only had a small serving, pushed her plate aside and reached for her china cup, taking a sip of her tea. ‘I hear Silvano might be home next week,’ she said.
‘Uh huh.’ Rowena had no problems confirming the news. It was hardly a secret. Concetta told everyone who walked into the bakery about her brother-in-law’s ETA.
‘He’s lucky you were there, isn’t he, Albert?’
Albert, who’d turned out to be a man of few words, nodded. ‘Reckon.’
‘Lachy was there, too.’ God … when had she started to call him Lachy? When had she started to think of him as Lachy?
‘No.’ Lachlan shook his head. ‘By the time I came across him, he’d have been dead. You saved his life that day, Ro, not me.’
She went to protest, because it had been a team effort. Reggie, however, interrupted that train of thought.
‘You prefer Ro?’ she asked.
Rowena laughed. ‘My preference doesn’t really seem to matter.’
Reggie grimaced. ‘Sorry, darl, we’re bad for that out here. Shortening names.’ She regarded Rowena through narrowed eyes for a beat or two. ‘It suits you, though, I reckon.’
‘Yup,’ Lachlan agreed as he pushed his empty plate aside.
‘But you’re not a fan,’ Reggie clarified.
Shrugging, Rowena admitted, ‘It’s growing on me.’
Lachlan grinned at her admission and Rowena rolled her eyes. What could she say? It was.
Reggie took another sip of her tea. ‘I heard Glenda Warwick died this afternoon.’
Rowena stilled at the statement. Lachlan had told her in the car that his grandmother knew everything and everyone, but that news had travelled fast. Her gaze dropped as the sadness of Glenda’s collective family grief revisited, before she shuttered her sorrow and lifted her gaze.
Lachlan’s eyes met hers and, in a split second, she knew he knew what had caused her earlier tears.
Pressing on unaware of Rowena’s turmoil, Reggie said, ‘It apparently happened quickly in the end. Such a wonderful woman. And with her daughter expecting her first baby in a few months, too. Cancer is a fucker.’
Rowena suppressed an absurd urge to laugh. Cancer was indeed a fucker, but she hadn’t expected to hear that word coming out of the mouth of an eighty-something.
Underneath a crucifix!
Albert just nodded sagely. ‘Truth.’
‘I don’t know how you nurses do it, darl,’ Reggie murmured. ‘Angels, the lot of you.’
Rowena was uncomfortable as ever at the compliment. God knew there’d been many days when she’d had to bite her tongue to keep herself from yelling at people for their stupidity.
‘Now.’ With a pat to Rowena’s hand, Reggie had moved on. ‘I was wondering if you could help me, darl.’ The older woman stood, her chair scraping slightly against the wide wooden floorboards. She reached for Rowena’s plate.
‘Oh, no.’ Rowena also stood. ‘Please let me clean up. It’s the least I can do after such a sumptuous meal.’
A swat at the air with her hand dismissed Rowena’s suggestions. ‘No, no, sit down.’ The command was issued in a way that brooked no argument and Rowena sat. ‘You’re our guest. Guests don’t do the dishes. The boys’ll do it.’
The boys rose immediately and started to clear the table, Lachlan shooting her a wink. ‘What I’d really like you to do is taste some jam for me, darl. I could do with another opinion and those two are sick of being my tasters.’
‘Oh.’ Rowena blinked. ‘Okay, sure.’
Looking much younger than her eighty-plus years, Reggie grinned like a schoolgirl, rubbing her hands together in glee before heading to the bench where the jam jars sat.
After a few minutes of clattering around, she was back, placing three saucers, with a blob of jam on each, in front of her. A spoon accompanied each plate.
‘I hope you like marmalade?’
‘I love marmalade.’
Reggie beamed and Rowena felt like she’d passed some kind of test. ‘Now, I’m entering the jam section at the show this year and I’m doing this Christmas marmalade recipe. It’s risky, but sometimes it pays to stand out from the crowd, right?’
‘Right,’ Rowena agreed, which scored her another smile.
She chanced a glance at Lachlan. He was drying the dishes as Albert washed, but he was watching the proceedings, a small smile playing on his mouth.
‘There’s three different batches here.’ She indicated the three saucers.
‘This one—’ A thick, gnarled finger pointed at the one on the end closest to the wall.
‘It’s the latest and the best, I think, but there’s something still missing.
Taste them all so you can see the progression and tell me what you think. ’