“Well, there’s a fine thing. I don’t know much about jewellery but there’s plenty of material for your pencil around here.”

“Yes.” Keely sighed and stood up. It was a long time since she’d admitted to anyone that she drew. “Would you like another cup of tea?”

“No thanks, I must be on my way, though I wouldn’t mind a piece of that cake to take with me.”

Keely wrapped a large piece of the lemon cake and met him on the verandah where he was doing up his laces. She watched as he adjusted the twine tied below his knees.

He looked up. “Bowyangs.”

“Pardon?”

“Stops my trousers dragging on the ground.” He grinned. “Bit of protection as well. Snakes start to get active this time of year. Wouldn’t want one sliding up my trouser leg. Could get nasty.”

Keely glanced around the yard. She’d never given snakes much thought. Surely she wasn’t in any danger of meeting one here.

Jack held out his hand. “Goodbye, Keely. I hope we’ll meet again.”

She looked at his wise old face. She felt sure it masked a myriad of stories. Just like she’d experienced when she first met Euan, there was something about Jack that made her want to capture him in a sketch. She shook his hand and took a deep breath.

“Would you mind if I took your picture and sketched you, Jack?”

His eyes lit up and he lifted the hat he’d just put on his head and made a sweeping bow. “I’d be honoured, Miss Mitchell. I hope you’re not one of those real-life artistes who likes to draw the naked figure.”

“Oh…no…I prefer clothes on…I’ll just get my phone.” Keely rattled the glass door in her haste to get through it and behind her Jack’s chuckle reverberated in the morning air.

* * *

“I’m amazed at how much busier the whole area is since I was here last.” Kat sat in her cousin Michael’s office while he went over his menu. “I’ve been looking at the tourist map with all the wineries and this week Pappou wants me to visit as many as I can.”

Michael put down his pen. “Spying, hey?”

“I like to think of it more as getting to know the opposition. Surely you check out the other restaurants?”

“I don’t get a lot of time.”

Kat pressed her fingertips together and raised her eyebrows.

“Well, maybe sometimes,” he said. “Don’t look like that. You are the image of Pappou.”

“Thanks.” She grimaced.

“You’re going to do the job then.”

She studied her cousin. He was a few years older than she was. He had been an apprentice chef at one of the large hotels in Perth, then had spent several years developing his culinary skills in Greece and Europe. Now, here he was, running the restaurant at River Dynasty.