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beer and waving it. “They create environmental and social problems when forests are cut down so more farmers can grow beef. The more of the stuff we eat the fatter we all get and then they encourage us to buy more of their meals because they’ll donate a dollar from every burger to the local school so it can buy footballs to keep the kids fit. And we all buy more burgers and applaud their generosity and think they’re such fine corporate citizens. I never thought of it like that.” Trevor’s watery blue gaze slipped around Tate’s shoulder and his eyes widened.
    That’s when Tate felt a hand rub the small of his back and a drawl that still sounded like maple sugar over pancakes after thirty years in Australia declared: “Here you are, Tate.
    You’re the hardest goddamn keynote speaker I’ve ever had to find. Shouldn’t you be signing autographs somewhere?”
    “Jancis,” he said, leaning down to kiss her powdery‐soft cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He meant it. Jancis Woody had given him his first job fresh out of university and untaught him everything he’d learned in his three‐year marketing degree. She’d been his boss and mentor for eight years in Adelaide, then she’d moved her PR business to Sydney.
    He’d stayed in Adelaide and gone out on his own to start Outback Brands. These days Jancis was his colleague and friend, and fifteen‐year friendships were rare in this business.
    “Thanks, Mark.” Jancis Woody flashed a smile at the moustached official who’d helped push her wheelchair through the throng. “Can you find that photographer now, please, and get him over here?” The official disappeared in the direction of a camera flash.
    Trevor Beard from Melbourne excused himself too.
    “Do we have to do the photographs, J?” Tate said, already resigned to it. Jancis was on a mission which meant if he was Mohammed, the mountain was about to be moved.
    “You betcha we’re doing photographs. The last one in my archives you were twenty-two and pimply. What are you now? Thirty‐eight? Ancient . No one will believe you were here if I don’t have hard proof. Lighten up and smile. We are in PR.”
    Tate gave up his bar stool and helped Jancis into it. Sweat broke across her lip. For a moment her arms held all her weight, like she sat on a plank above an icy pool. He leaned lower, tucked his arm around her waist and held her until she could settle.
    “Goddamn it sucks getting old.” The pain in her eyes was magnified through purple-rimmed glasses. “Thanks, honey. I hope you never need a new hip.”
    He signalled a passing waiter for a glass of Shiraz and once Jancis was comfortable and the lopsided table stopped rocking, pushed it toward her.
    “I thought walking was therapy. What’s with the chair?”
    “I’ll get back to the physio when AMPRA is all over. That crackpot from the hospital needs his head examined, the things he expects a woman my age to do. I haven’t been able to touch my toes in twenty years. I’m not about to start now.”

    Lily Malone
    He laughed, picked up his beer. “Have you been crunching the board votes for numbers?”
    “Yeah. I got president in the bag. Y’all might as well anoint me.” She looked around at the crowd. “Thanks to you putting in an appearance, we got double last year’s numbers.”
    “Good for you.” No bubbles rose in his glass and he put it down untouched.
    Jancis regarded him over the frames. “You look distracted, honey.”
    He was opening his mouth to answer when his phone rang. Caller ID flashed an Adelaide number he didn’t recognise. He felt a ripple through the pit of his stomach.
    Christina .
    “I have to take this, J.”
    Jancis smiled in a way that showed most of her teeth, including the gold ones. Red wine bled a tiny stain through her bottom lip. “Sure. Go on. I’ll wait.”
    He pressed accept , identified himself and waited for the buttery tones.
    “Hello, Tate. This is Lacy Graham… I’m the girl who painted