“Like what?” It was hard to imagine her Milt as anything but a farmer.

“Fly planes.” He threw his arms out, knocking some papers off the desk.

“Really?”

“No.” He gave her a sideways look as he bent to pick up the papers. “But I often wondered about the life of a fireman.”

She smiled. “Every little boy’s dream.”

“Maybe.”

The reflective look on his face made her pause. Perhaps he truly had thought about it.

“You were in the Country Fire Service for years; you could go back or you could join the Emergency Service.”

“I’m too old.”

“Milt, you’re turning sixty next birthday. That’s not old. They don’t knock back volunteers who’ve got two strong legs and a level head on their shoulders.”

Milt shrugged and went back to the desk. She watched him take some more measurements and thought back to her early days on the property.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” she said. “When we were first married I really wanted to become more involved in the running of the property.”

He looked back at her. “But you had your teaching.”

“I know and I loved it but I sometimes wonder if I’d been allowed to learn more about the stock and become more involved than cooking and paperwork and roustabout duties, perhaps I might have…learned to be more help in other ways.”

“You just told me we’re not old. It’s not too late.”

She thought about that as she sipped her coffee and he kept fiddling around the desk. When she’d left home she’d questioned her existence and part of the reason had been the knowledge that her own sixtieth birthday was only two years away. While she’d been away she’d worked out there were still plenty of things she wanted to do with her life. “I love the property but my interests have changed and I don’t think we’re too old to try something new.”

“Which reminds me, I haven’t told you about the paperwork the girls and I sorted with the lawyer last week. Everything’s in our names now, yours and mine until Bree decides what she wants to do.”

“I thought everything was in our names already.”

“Not Mum’s unit in town and several other assets. We were joint owners with her but now it’s just us. We’ve paid for that place, for her car, and Connie’s not going to get her hands on them.”

“Fair enough.” She could see Milt’s temper rising.

“And I’ve made it clear to Bree that she needs to decide whether she wants to take the place on or not, before I turn sixty-five.”

“We discussed that after Clem died.”

“We’d started talking about a decision date but we hadn’t made it definite.”