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reputation in this town and he’s earned it the old-fashioned way.”
    “Got it.”
    “Although . . . ” said her father, and then paused.
    “Although what?”
    Her father smiled. “I’m thinking maybe I should now praise the boy, especially seeing as your mother’s just finished warning you away from him. Just to balance things out a little. Slip him back into neutral space where you’re concerned.”
    “I think you’ve both gone mad,” Bree said.
    “So you don’t want me to tell you why I like him?”
    Bree waited all of two seconds before admitting that her father was playing her like a fiddle. “Okay, why do you like him?”
    “I’ve seen him bring a fisherman into the surgery with a suspected heart attack and then stay and arrange for transport for the man. I’ve seen him pace my waiting room with his younger brother when his brother’s new wife came in for a health check. And I’ve seen him stand with his older brother, shoulder to shoulder, in a dispute that wasn’t of his making.”
    “We’ve all seen that last one,” her mother injected as she came out onto the verandah. “Don’t tell me he doesn’t enjoy it.”
    Her father snorted. “Could be that your mother’s right . . . and the boy doesn’t mind a little roughhousing. Crooks his finger and the women come running. Could be that the boy has his own reasons for letting people believe that he hooks up with married women. Sometimes a woman married to someone unstable needs help in order to get free of abuse.”
    “Who?” asked her mother.
    “Patient confidentiality. But Caleb Jackson didn’t hinder, he helped, and I think better of him because of it.”
    Her mother pressed a swift kiss into her husband’s thinning grey hair. “Sneaky old goat. Okay, I stand corrected. Caleb Jackson is a white knight with his very own horse. He’s still too pretty for his own good.”
    “Amen,” said Bree. “May we please change the subject?”
    Of course,” said her father. “Anyone for chess?”

Chapter Three

    O nce a month, the Brunswick Bay Surf Lifesaving Club held a trivia night at their clubhouse by the beach. Caleb had been a member since forever. Nippers, boats, iron-man, surf lifesaving and more—he and his brothers had rolled through every one of them with unswerving enthusiasm and sometimes outright glee.
    But he did not, would not, emphatically refused to frequent the clubhouse on trivia nights, ballroom dancing nights or any time he heard the words Art Exhibition or Crafterama by the Sea .
    Of course, that was before he had a sister-in-law named Zoey.
    Tonight’s excuse to get him down to the trivia circus was that she’d misplaced Eli’s car keys, possibly in Eli’s car. Caleb knew full well that his brother could get into that vehicle with his eyes closed, keys or no keys. And still Zoey wanted him to drop by with the spare set.
    The clubhouse was situated back from the beach, on the edge of the park. It was a long, low building with a second-story verandah, nautical décor and tables enough to seat a couple of hundred people.
    Eli made his way upstairs and entered the long room, his gaze automatically drawn to the table where Eli and Zoey were sitting, along with his mother, father, grandparents, and several other trivia artists extraordinaire. Not content to rope just Eli into service, Zoey had shanghaied the Jackson elders as well. He glanced over the rest of the room and saw all the usual suspects, along with a few people he hadn’t expected to see. Squaring his shoulders he headed towards his family.
    “Your wife is a menace,” he told Eli as he dumped the keys down in front of her.
    “Yeah, but you love me,” said Zoey. “We’re family. What’s Tonto’s horse’s name?”
    “Scout.”
    “Thanking you kindly. Which team has had the most State of Origin wins?”
    “Queensland. But you’re not allowed to say it.”
    “And what year was the inaugural State of Origin game