While his wife yakked on about small town musings, Trevor laughed, barely able to get an affirming ‘ah-huh’ in, even when asked a question. Jack sat quietly, putting away an amount of food Nicole found truly staggering, even for a young man. Danny seemed relaxed, like he was part of the family.

Family. Nicole had to fight to keep melancholy thoughts from swallowing her. She looked around the room at the pictures of Mandy and Trevor and Jack that adorned the walls in mix-matched frames.

‘So, how do you like Ivy Wilson’s cottage?’ Trevor asked, as Mandy excused herself to prepare dessert. ‘Fair bit of work to be done, hey?’ He smiled warmly.

‘For sure. But with Jack’s help the garden at least isn’t quite so daunting.’

Jack gave a corroborative grunt.

‘Still,’ Trevor continued, ‘bloody big job to tackle on your own. Surely a good-looking sort like you has a fella waiting in the wings, hey?’

Nicole coughed. ‘Well, ah …’

Jumping up and running from the room was probably a bit extreme, but that was all that came to her mind right then.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to as Mandy came back in with a large pavlova bulging under the weight of cream and fruit piled on its delicate meringue crust. She whipped Jack’s dinner plate away as he scooped up the last morsel of his fifth helping of fish pie.

‘She’s not doing it alone, Trevor,’ Mandy said. ‘She’s got Danny helping.’

Nicole took another sip of wine. She wasn’t supposed to be tackling this job on her own. She wasn’t supposed to be here at all. She was supposed to be happily married by now, ensconced in her inner-city apartment writing her next bestseller. She fidgeted with her napkin.

Mandy sat down. ‘Have you got some family or friends coming to help you with the renos?’

She scrambled to cover her truth. ‘No. I … ah … felt, I guess, like … I wanted a personal project, I suppose.’

‘You’re a brave woman.’ Trevor shook his head and then jumped as if he’d been kicked or pinched.

Nicole didn’t feel brave. Not one bit.

‘Bit of a strange situation, though.’ Mandy served up the pavlova. ‘Making you fix up the place. It’s stayed empty all this time since the old girl died. No one knows why or how. Plenty of people sniffed around, made offers to the estate agent. But they were all turned down. Ivy had some big-shot Sydney lawyer taking care of things, apparently, and he wasn’t quite so forthcoming with information as one of our own might have been.’ She winked.

Smart lady, Nicole thought. If you want to keep a secret in a small town, keep it elsewhere.

‘I reckon she’s got cousins or something in Sydney that inherited it. Never had any kids of her own. I guess they’re finally going to sell. Whoever they are.’