Page 32 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Albert just nodded sagely. ‘Truth.’

‘I don’t know how you nurses do it, darl,’ Reggie murmured. ‘Angels, the lot of you.’

Rowena was uncomfortable as ever at the compliment. God knew there’d been many days when she’d had to bite her tongue to keep herself from yelling at people for their stupidity.

‘Now.’ With a pat to Rowena’s hand, Reggie had moved on. ‘I was wondering if you could help me, darl.’ The older woman stood, her chair scraping slightly against the wide wooden floorboards. She reached for Rowena’s plate.

‘Oh, no.’ Rowena also stood. ‘Please let me clean up. It’s the least I can do after such a sumptuous meal.’

A swat at the air with her hand dismissed Rowena’s suggestions. ‘No, no, sit down.’ The command was issued in a way that brooked no argument and Rowena sat. ‘You’re our guest. Guests don’t do the dishes. The boys’ll do it.’

The boys rose immediately and started to clear the table, Lachlan shooting her a wink. ‘What I’d really like you to do is taste some jam for me, darl. I could do with another opinion and those two are sick of being my tasters.’

‘Oh.’ Rowena blinked. ‘Okay, sure.’

Looking much younger than her eighty-plus years, Reggie grinned like a schoolgirl, rubbing her hands together in glee before heading to the bench where the jam jars sat. After a few minutes of clattering around, she was back, placing three saucers, with a blob of jam on each, in front of her. A spoon accompanied each plate.

‘I hope you like marmalade?’

‘I love marmalade.’

Reggie beamed and Rowena felt like she’d passed some kind of test. ‘Now, I’m entering the jam section at the show this year and I’m doing this Christmas marmalade recipe. It’s risky, but sometimes it pays to stand out from the crowd, right?’

‘Right,’ Rowena agreed, which scored her another smile.

She chanced a glance at Lachlan. He was drying the dishes as Albert washed, but he was watching the proceedings, a small smile playing on his mouth.

‘There’s three different batches here.’ She indicated the three saucers. ‘This one—’ A thick, gnarled finger pointed at the one on the end closest to the wall. ‘It’s the latest and the best, I think, but there’s something still missing. Taste them all so you can see the progression and tell me what you think.’

Rowena hesitated. ‘I’m not exactly an expert on marmalade.’ This seemed important to the older woman—she didn’t want to screw it up.

‘Not necessary. You just have to know what you like.’

‘Okay.’ Rowena nodded. ‘Sure.’

Dutifully, she tasted the three samples in front of her. They were all exquisitely zesty—just the way she liked it. But there was a definite Christmassy flavour to them as well. Rowena wouldn’t have said her palate was that sophisticated but she thought she could taste cloves. And cinnamon? Maybe some kind of booze.

‘These are all amazing—they’re so wonderfully tart.’

Reggie nodded enthusiastically. ‘That’s the finger limes, darl. Albie suggested it and it gives a really Aussie twist, I reckon.’

Rowena agreed. ‘I definitely like the last one best, though. Do you have whiskey or brandy or something in it?’

Another enthusiastic nod from Reggie. ‘Sherry.’

‘Ooh. Nice.’

‘I think it needs something else, though. I’m kind of after Christmas cake and mulled wine.’

‘I don’t know …’ Rowena sank her teeth into her bottom lip. She usually had mulled wine this time of year when a group of friends headed to the Blue Mountains for the annual Yulefest. ‘Maybe some cardamom or star anise?’

Reggie really beamed then and Rowena felt like she’d aced the test this time. ‘Yes! It has a pinch of cardamom already but star anise! That’s what I thought.’

Glancing at her grandson, she asked, ‘You did pick me up some of that, yes?’

Lachlan feigned affront. ‘You asked me to, didn’t you?’ He pulled the packet out of his pocket, where he’d stashed it after he’d paid at the checkout.

His grandmother covered the distance between them, squished his cheeks together like he was a little kid and gave each one a kiss. ‘Good boy.’