‘Black coffee,’ Stella said for him and Ava hid her smile. She was so glad not to have missed this, or worse, to have had Jock in tow.

They all sat at the table and Mim brought out her Anzac biscuits, and Stella had made one of her special carrot cakes with lemon icing and a magnificent bacon-and-onion quiche. Hana sat quietly amused. Quite the party, Ava thought, and tried not to catch her sister-in-law’s eye in case she laughed.

Lorenzo complimented her mother on everything, and Mim on her biscuits. He turned to her. ‘Do you cook, Ava?’

‘Ava makes very nice scones,’ her grandmother said loyally. That was about all Ava made. Cooking held no interest for her and her grandmother knew it.

‘Thank you, Mim.’ She gestured to the food on the laden table. ‘Do you cook, Lorenzo?’

‘Sì, though I have no one to cook for. My wife passed five years ago. My son and his wife met while backpacking in Australia two years ago. She is from Australia. These young ones are fearless.’ He shook his head.

‘I thought you buying Dreamtime was a little fearless,’ Stella said with a shake of her head.

‘No. You thought it foolish when you discovered it, but you will see. Again, you underestimate me, Stella.’

What was Stella underestimating? Ava raised her brows at her mother, who looked away.

Lorenzo caught the silent question between them and went on smoothly. ‘I digress. My son, Leo, and his wife, Aimee, have worked on cattle stations in your Northern Territory for several years now and have held their wish to return here to Central Australia.’ He shrugged. ‘So I came to see last year, and I too –’ here he glanced at Stella – ‘was drawn by everything.’ He shrugged. ‘My wealth is only to see my family happy. Happiness is all that I need.’

He certainly appeared happy while he was watching her mother. ‘I look forward to meeting them.’ Ava thought an outback station a particularly radical gift for his son, but she wished them well. If the son was used to working on stations, then with a good manager they’d work things out. It would be good for Jock to have young people near, too. Interesting changes were afoot.

‘Sì. And they you. They are in Sydney at present with plans for the station. I am home alone –’ he spread his hands and pretended a mournful face – ‘except for my Mrs Digby, the keeper of house.’ He looked at Stella. ‘And the cows. In Italy we have the Chianina, they are the oldest breed in the world. I will cook the bistecca alla fiorentina for you all one day with this meat and see how it turns.’

‘Turns out,’ Stella corrected gently.

‘Sì. Turns out.’ Another warm glance was directed at her mother.