Page 44 of Where the Wattles Bloom

He shrugged dismissively. ‘A little.’

‘You’re taking something for it?’

Gina nodded definitively. ‘Every six hours, as prescribed.’

‘She’s my drug dealer now,’ he joked.

Rowena and Brooke laughed, but they both knew that keeping on top of pain was important for his healing. ‘And the rehab?’ Brooke enquired. ‘How’s it going?’

He grimaced and Brooke arched an eyebrow, clearly not about to accept any excuses. ‘It’s very important, especially if you want to get back to the patisserie.’

‘I know, I know.’ He sighed as he lifted a placatory hand. ‘It’s just very … tiring.’

‘The hospital physios here are taking over his rehab,’ Gina assured, holding up a pamphlet. ‘He has to walk around the block twice. Once in the morning. Once at night. Then we gradually increase it. We’ll do it together.’

If Rowena had still been living in town she’d have volunteered to walk with them. After all, she was as invested as them in getting Silvano in shape and reducing his risks for having further events.

She placed a soothing hand on his forearm. ‘I know every step is exhausting at this stage in your recovery, but it will get better, I promise.’ She gave him a gentle smile. ‘You’ve just got to stick with it.’

He nodded wearily in acknowledgement. ‘Believe it or not, I’m already stronger than I was in the hospital.’

‘And what about the dietician?’ Brooke enquired. ‘What did she say?’

He gave a pained half snort. ‘No more cannoli.’

‘We have a plan to manage his diabetes.’ Gina tapped her handbag. ‘Which we’re going to stick to this time.’ She eyed her husband with a determined gleam.

‘See what I have to deal with?’ He turned long-suffering eyes on Rowena. ‘All the women in my life, they gang up on me.’

Rowena laughed, which shattered Silvano’s hangdog expression. He didn’t look like he objected to being bossed around too badly. ‘You’re lucky to have people who care.’

When she’d needed a little TLC from the people who were supposed to love her the most in life, she’d gotten the usual chin-up platitudes.

Brooke nodded in agreement. ‘People who care enough for some tough love.’

‘Speaking of.’ Gina glanced at her watch. ‘We have to get going. We have scripts to pick up at the pharmacy.’

Silvano nodded. ‘You will come by the patisserie, yes?’ His gaze met Rowena’s. ‘I’ll feed you cannolis. Someone’s got to eat them now I can’t.’

Rowena laughed. She might not have been here long but she knew those melt-in-the-mouth masterpieces walked out the door perfectly well without her help.

‘I’ll do that.’

They watched the Morellis depart. When they’d disappeared, Brooke turned to her and waggled her eyebrows.

‘Forget the free cannolis, you’re in the will, baby!’

Rowena laughed. ‘I think this town would rather see Silvano going for many more years so let’s concentrate on that, huh?’

Brooke raised her hand and they high fived. ‘Deal.’

Twelve

Lachlan was standing at the Cattleman’s Bar about four on Saturday afternoon shooting the breeze with Stevo, a mate he only ever saw once or twice a year.

There was nothing fancy about the bar situated within one of the four iconic pavilions of the showgrounds. Looking out on the main drag that led from the admission turnstiles to sideshow alley, it had a cracked concrete floor and a pockmarked wooden slab for elbow resting and beer serving.

There was only one beer on tap, and no chairs.