“Thanks.” Alice appreciated how hard Karen found overriding her decluttering setting so it was a big deal that her mother had brought the stack home. She immediately leafed through them to see if she could use anything with the nursing home set. There was a mixture of Australian Geographic, Women’s Weekly, car and four-wheel drive magazines and a few health-related ones. The headline, “Fertility preservation for women over thirty,” caught her eye and she thumbed the pages until she found the article. Scanning the horrifying statistics of falling fertility from age thirty-five, she slammed the magazine shut.

“Alice, you’ve still got time to meet someone and have a baby,” her mother said gently.

“I don’t think anyone can say that with any accuracy.”

“And it’s just as inaccurate to say it won’t happen.” A familiar glint entered Karen’s eyes and Alice recognized it. It was the same determined light that had burned brightly when she was a child and Karen had taken her to the many appointments with doctors, physiotherapists, speech therapists and tutors. What the family called Alice’s catch-up years.

“You say you want a career and a family, yet you’re languishing down here.”

“I’m not languishing!”

“Darling, you’re hardly thriving. Perhaps you should go back to Melbourne and talk to that counselor you used to see?”

Anger slashed Alice along with a splash of guilt. It had been years since she’d seen a counselor and even then, she’d only gone to placate Karen, who’d freaked out when she’d refused to share a house with Libby and Jess. Alice loved her mother, but dear God, was she ever going to see her as an adult? Or was she always going to view her as someone who needed fixing?

“I have to go to work.” Without waiting for a reply, Alice hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and left the room.

The weather had closed in and wind and rain buffeted the bay. As a result, the regulars were absent making it a very quiet night at the RSL. Dan van den Berg had signed in solo—the third time since Alice had gone on the Cape Conran bushwalk with the Bay Bushwhackers—and he’d taken a seat at the bar. Usually, Alice was happy to chat and banter with him, but after the conversation with Karen, she was out of sorts.

“So, Twin Two …” Dan spun a coaster through his fingers.

“So, Dan the man … Can I interest you in a raffle ticket for the meat platter?”

“Maybe. What’s it for this week?”

“A swing for children with disabilities. Basically, you’ll look like a prick if you say no.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Harsh would be not buying any tickets.”

He shot her his trademark grin. “Are you sure I’m not talking to Libby? I don’t remember Alice ever being this confrontational.”