They were only footprints. And very soon to be lost in the placid morning rain. No reason to be up in arms.

Still. Neil straightened in the front yard, swiping at the raindrops on his cheeks, Lilian’s umbrella not quite the cover she meant it to be. Despite the damp, the morning was warmer than normal for late October, the mellow air creating a misty fog around them.

“They’re too small to be your shoes,” Lilian said, her usual travel mug tucked in the crook of one arm. “I don’t even know what made me notice them. But someone’s been snooping around.”

Snooping? What caused her to immediately jump to that? “Could be Sydney’s prints.”

Lilian shook her head. “Too big for hers. Or Indi’s. And don’t say Wilder—he’s got giant feet.”

Lilian had found him in the kitchen just as he was about to head out for chores a little later than usual. He’d lingered at the coffeepot longer today, wondering when their houseguest might appear.

Not that he was waiting for her. Why would he do that? So Sydney knew his secret. So she’d spent two hours last night helping him paint. So he’d actually kind of enjoyed talking to her.

Really enjoyed her endless barrage of compliments about all his work on the treehouse.

Didn’t mean . . . well, anything. Other than maybe he wouldn’t have minded if she’d arrived downstairs as early today as she had yesterday, accompanied him out to the barn again. He could’ve cajoled her into making nice with Melba.

He shook his head now, as much to brush off the silly thought as to quell whatever concerns were currently playing through Lilian’s head. “I just don’t think some random footprints are any reason to be upset.”

“But that car the other night.”

“Someone was lost. Maybe they didn’t realize it at first. Maybe they got out of their vehicle before realizing they weren’t where they thought they were.” He peered at his sister. Her tan trench coat was cinched at the waist and her high heels nearly put her at eye level with him. Why the faint circles under her eyes? The glint of heaviness hanging over her? “This doesn’t seem like you, Lil. Are you getting enough sleep?”

She turned away with a sigh, taking the shelter of her umbrella with her. “Don’t you start in on me too. Maggie asks me daily how I could possibly have enough work to keep me at the office so late every evening.”

“It’s a valid question.”

“Why there’s unidentified footprints in our front yard is a valid question.”

Neil peeled off his jacket and held it over his head. “Lil—”

“Whatever in the world are you two doing out in the rain?”

Maggie’s voice beckoned from the open front door. One glance from Lilian was enough to know she had the same thought he did—no need to concern Maggie with questions about footprints and strange vehicles. Both of which were probably nothing anyway, right?

“Just heading in to town. I’ve got that Heritage Society meeting,” Lilian called. “Waiting on—”

“I’m here.” Indi burst past Maggie and down the porch steps. “I’m ready.” She tugged the hood of her bright yellow raincoat over her hair. “No one forget about tonight.”

Right. It was “meet the fiancé” night. He still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that his little sister was getting married to a guy he’d never met. Bennington. The man would probably show up in tails and a bowtie.

“Wait.” Maggie stepped onto the porch. “Take Sydney with you. She hasn’t seen Muir Harbor yet.”

Sydney must be just inside the house, her muffled voice barely reaching through the rain. Arguing, probably. Not wanting to put his sisters out. Lilian obviously wasn’t all that keen on the idea of taking Sydney along. Indi only shrugged as she reached them. “What are you two doing out here?”

Lilian motioned toward the footprints. “Trying to solve a mystery.”

“Isn’t that Wilder’s territory?”

Neil’s focus slid back to the porch, where Maggie had coaxed Sydney out. She stood facing Maggie, red hair hanging loose and wavy this morning. He spoke even as he continued taking in her muted conversation with Maggie. “You should take her along to the meeting, guys. Give her a taste of the real Muir Harbor.”

“You sure warmed up to her quickly.”

His gaze snapped back to Lilian. “Just doing what Maggie asked. Anyway, doesn’t hurt to be friendly.” He didn’t like the way Lilian was studying him now, almost as suspiciously as she had those footprints. Which meant this was probably a good time to take his leave. “See ya.”

But instead of rounding the house and heading for the barn, he dodged raindrops as he jogged to the porch and up the steps, bending to kiss Maggie’s cheek as soon as he reached her. “Morning.” He swiped the back of his hand over his damp cheeks before sliding a glance to Sydney. “Hey. Uh, they’ll wait for you if you’re not quite ready.”

Though she looked ready to him—no hilarious robe or rain boots today, not even his bulky coat. Just a simple green sweater and jeans and tiny gold earrings, visible when she tucked her hair behind both ears, not quite meeting his eyes.

So maybe he wasn’t the only one not entirely sure what to make of last night. There’s nothing to make of it. Why was he making this weird? “I’ve only ever let them drag me to one Heritage Society meeting in the past. Not really my thing. Though it is technically the closest thing we’ve got to real entertainment in Muir Harbor—well, other than the seasonal markets. There’s four of those each year. The autumn one’s this coming weekend. We actually get tourists for those.”

Great, now he was rambling.

But she only smiled. Turned to Maggie. “You won’t feel like I’m ditching you if I go?”

“Of course not, dear. I’m the one who suggested it. Anyway, I’ve got a feast to prepare for Indi’s fiancé tonight.”

“I could stay and help.”

Maggie shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Neil’s not lying. Those meetings can get downright zany. You need to go.”

He knew even before he said the words, they were pointless. But they slipped out anyway. “You could go too, Maggie. It’s been a long time. I’m sure everyone misses you.”

Just as he knew she would, she shook her head again. Waved a hand. Pasted on a nonchalance he wasn’t at all sure she really felt. Why, Maggie? She used to love town events. Used to be so involved in everything that happened in Muir Harbor. But there wasn’t any use in arguing.

He felt Sydney’s eyes on him then, slid his gaze to her once more, could tell she hadn’t missed the change in the air around them. He did his best to cover Maggie’s unease with a small smile. “Well, have fun in town. That is, unless you’d rather stay here and come hang out in the barn with me and Melba.”

She grimaced. “No thanks.”

“One of these days, you’ll believe me when I say Melba is the most harmless creature you’ll ever meet.”

She rolled her eyes before leaning in to kiss Maggie’s cheek just as he had moments ago. “See you later, Maggie.” She tipped her head to look at him. “Enjoy the company of your cow, Neil.”

And then she was hurrying down the porch steps and jogging through the rain to Lilian’s Honda.

“She’s not like the others, Neil.”

Maggie leaned against the doorframe now, her white braid draped over one shoulder, her gaze fixed on Lilian’s car as it motored away.

“I like her better than Greta, anyway.”

He expected Maggie to laugh. Instead, she touched his arm. “I think she might need us. Whether or not she’s Diana’s. Whether or not she’s Cynthia. I can feel it. She needs us.”

He stepped to Maggie’s side and tucked his arm around her shoulder. He hoped he never forgot to be grateful for this woman who’d given him a home, a family, everything. “Well, maybe there’s some reason we need her too.” He dropped his arm, felt his forehead wrinkle. “Though I have no idea why I just said that.”

Now she chuckled. “Because no matter how determined you were not to like her, Neil MacKean, you’ve got a heart bigger than the sky and deeper than the ocean.” She elbowed his side and disappeared into the house.

Though the rain had dissipated by the time they reached town, damp air blustered over Sydney the moment she rose from the back seat of Lilian’s car, the gust capturing her hair and sending it fluttering around her face.

One thing she’d learned in almost two days at the farm—there was little point in fussing over style. Not with the seaside wind always at the ready.

Indi, though, didn’t seem to follow the same rule. Underneath her unbuttoned raincoat, her fashionable boho dress, a swirl of reds and purples and greens, billowed around her legs, her collection of bracelets clinking in time with the heels of her tall boots. “Hurry, ladies. If we’re late, Patti Brighton-Smythe will have our heads.”

Lilian closed her driver’s-side door, dropped her keys in her purse, voice low and apparently meant only for Sydney. “Ironic, really, Indi being the one to worry about being late.”

This was the most dressed-down Sydney had seen Lilian. Both Sunday night and Monday, Lilian had been in slacks and a blazer, but today she’d paired dark jeans with her heels and her top, visible near the open collar of her trench coat, was a soft gray sweater.

Whether either sister actually wanted her along for this outing, she couldn’t say. But it’d only made sense to accept the invitation. So far, her time at the farm hadn’t yielded any answers about her birth mother or her father. After helping Neil paint last night, she’d stayed up until after one in the morning looking through scrapbooks, willing herself to feel some spark of connection or memory.

But . . . nothing.

And other than a quick text from Wilder this morning saying he was still following up on a couple of leads, she had a feeling he wasn’t any closer to proving his theory today than he’d been last week.

So why not venture into Muir Harbor? Maybe she’d meet someone who might remember a JP.

“Come on, slowpokes.” Indi tossed her cheery order over her shoulder with a light laugh, already moving down the sidewalk.

Lilian’s eyebrows lifted. “I have absolutely no idea why she’s so enthusiastic about this meeting. It’s more of a gossip-fest than anything.”

“Excited to show off her ring, maybe?”

Lilian didn’t have a reply to that, just watched her sister hurry onward. Why did the whole family seem so doubtful about Indi’s engagement?

“So none of you have met the guy?” She fell into step beside the older sister, drinking in the sight of the small town center as they walked. An undeniable old-world charm hummed from every detail she took in—the cobblestone street, spindly black lampposts, decorative storefront facades. Brick buildings with yawning windows lined both sides of the road, and up ahead the street split into two directions, curving around a large circle lawn, still-green grass puddled with patches of fallen leaves.

“We call it the town square,” Lilian explained, following Sydney’s line of sight, “even though it’s clearly not a square. And no, we haven’t met him. Indi’s dating history is a little bit of a whirlwind. She’s always been the most . . . carefree of all of us.”

Something told Sydney carefree really meant something more along the lines of flighty. But Lilian said it with obvious affection.

“That’s her store across the street, by the way.” She pointed to a tall, narrow building, brick exterior painted white and windows framed by yellow shutters. A nod to Maggie? An artsy metal sign over the entrance read Bits & Pieces. “She was only twenty-four when she opened it. Honestly, I was a little skeptical about the whole thing. Not Neil, though. He loaned her half of what she needed to make the down payment on the building. Pretty sure he’s never let her pay him back. She opened her second store in Augusta earlier this year.”

It was the most Lilian had spoken to Sydney. Almost felt as much of a victory as when Neil had let her come along to the treehouse last night.

That treehouse. Wasn’t all that hard to believe the same man who’d envisioned and created such a magical little haven in the middle of nowhere would see the promise in his younger sister’s dream.

A small car motored past, and Lilian lifted her hand in a wave at its honk. She gave the same greeting to someone inside a donut shop as they passed, the sweet smell wafting underneath its awning bringing Nikola and her caramel rolls to mind. She owed her friend a text one of these days.

“So is the meeting in the town square?” Er, circle.

Lilian shook her head. “Not today.”

Then why was Indi jogging to the center of the lawn? She stopped at a small bulletin board in front of a white gazebo, strings of faux red and orange leaves woven in and out of its lattice. A moment later, Indi reversed course and started their way again. “Earl’s Place,” she called.

Lilian gave a brisk nod and veered across the street, leaving Sydney, clueless, to follow. Within minutes they were passing underneath a green-and-white-striped awning and pushing their way into a . . .

Sydney paused on the threshold. A hardware store?

And a crowded one, at that. People milled in between shelves and metal bins—standing-room only. She moved farther inside, wedging into a spot near Lilian.

“Weird place for a meeting, I know,” the woman said. “We used to hold all our society meetings at Trinna’s Teatime.”

“Which is actually a coffee shop,” Indi added, coming up beside her.

“Right,” Lilian confirmed. “Though, to be fair, Trinna does have all these loose-leaf teas on display, but we’re all pretty sure they’re at least ten years old. She’s always complaining no one ever buys anything but coffee and mochas and lattes.” Lilian shrugged. “What can we say? We’re a coffee town.”

Indi gave a breezy laugh. “But the point is, we used to have all our meetings there until Annie and Dale from the café complained that it wasn’t fair. They said Trinna was receiving special favor—”

“—and extra profit—”

“Because of the meetings,” Indi finished. “So now Heritage Society meetings take place at a different business every month. The location is posted on the gazebo bulletin board an hour before the meeting.”

Sydney gaped at the two sisters. “So you never know until the last minute where the meeting will take place?”

Lilian shrugged again. “The downtown is all of four blocks long. Doesn’t take much travel time to get to the right place.”

“But why not have a schedule of locations? Why communicate via a bulletin board? Couldn’t you have, like, a text group or something? An email chain?”

Both sisters only stared at her.

“What an odd little town.”

Indi smirked. “And the meeting hasn’t even started yet.”

Forty-five minutes the committee had been arguing about where to host the Annual Muir Harbor Thanksgiving Dinner next month. 

And Sydney was beginning to wonder why she’d thought joining Lilian and Indi at this meeting was a good idea. 

Not that it hadn’t been without its entertaining moments. There’d been that second when Patti Brighton-Smythe, the head of the society, according to Lilian, had dipped her head too low, too quickly, and the pile of platinum blond curls on her head had leaned dangerously to the left. A wig, clear as day, and not a stable one.

There’d been Earl, interrupting every few minutes to alert the committee members of current sales. Two-for-one drill sets. Fifty cents off a container of one hundred nails. Rakes, only ten dollars.

And there was the man in glasses over by the front window, furiously scribbling away in a small notebook as if his life depended on capturing every word said. That is, in between peering at Sydney with the intensity of an artist studying a bowl of fruit. 

Unnerving, really. And yet that man looked as harmless as a ladybug.

“One of these days, you’ll believe me when I say Melba is the most harmless creature you’ll ever meet.”

The memory of Neil’s voice rose above the chatter around her, along with the image of his almost-smile as he’d lingered on the porch this morning, jacket splotched with raindrops. He’d almost seemed . . . teasing wasn’t the right word. Playful, maybe.

As if underneath his reserve and diligence was a lively spirit not all that different from Indi’s. He just tucked it away a little deeper, the cares of the farm and his family taking top priority.

“What about Muir Farm?”

A voice near the front of the store plucked her attention once more—Patti Brighton-Smythe, adjusting her wig as she spoke.

“Yeah,” another woman chimed in. “I remember back when the Muirs hosted the dinner every year. When it was cold, even when it was snowing—they’d set up a huge tent and bring in space heaters.”

Now the man in the glasses with the notebook was staring at Lilian and Indi instead of Sydney. As was pretty much every face in the room. 

Indi turned to her sister, a sort of panic in her eyes.

But Lilian was pure calm. “I’m afraid most of those dinners were before my time. It’s not really feasible to expect Maggie to single-handedly host such a large event.”

“Wouldn’t be single-handed,” Patti Brighton-Smythe cut in. “The committee would help. The whole community would. Used to be the Muirs loved taking the helm of this kind of thing. Why, I remember when—”

“Thanksgiving is less than a month away,” Lilian interrupted. “It’s simply not doable. I’m sorry.”

A look passed between the two sisters, one Sydney couldn’t hope to decipher. But there was a weight to it. As if Lilian’s excuses to the committee were just that—mere excuses meant to cover a deeper trepidation.

But what? Did it have something to do with Maggie’s reasons for declining to join them today? When Neil had suggested it, it’d been clear he’d already known what Maggie’s answer would be. Maggie herself had said the other night that she rarely ventured away from home. 

Was she as wary of inviting townspeople to the farm as she was of leaving it? Why?

And what would it be like to have a sister with whom she could communicate the way Lilian and Indi just had? Silently—just a look, an expression.

She’d come today thinking maybe she could ask around about JP. But maybe deep down her real reason had been a desire to somehow bond with these two women. Maybe if something wonderful happened in the twelve days she had left in Muir Harbor, if she found out they actually were legally related, if not biologically—

“Ms. Rose, it is, yes?”

The man in the glasses no longer stood by the front window, instead having come up beside Sydney. 

“Um, yes. But how did you—?”

The man offered a crinkled smile. “Could we talk outside for a moment?”

Lilian and Indi were whispering back and forth to each other, oblivious to Sydney or the man. So she followed him outside. He nudged his glasses upward with his pencil, offering her a warm, if probing, smile. “Cecil Atwater. Publisher of the Gazette. And editor, reporter, photographer, and ad salesman. Very much a one-man operation.”

“Uh, Sydney Rose. Though it seems you already know that.”

“I wish I could credit my prowess as a newspaperman, but I’m afraid that’s simply Muir Harbor for you. News doesn’t so much travel as it gallops. Full-speed.”

But how had anyone known she was here? Had Lilian said something to someone at her office? Or maybe Indi had mentioned her presence to a customer. 

“I’d love to talk to you about what brought you to our fair city.”

“Shouldn’t the galloping news have already answered that question for you?”

He chuckled. “Oh, I know the bare facts, certainly. You’re Maggie’s latest hope. But I’d like to hear more. Where do you come from? How many pieces has Wilder Monroe put together? Is it for real this time or—”

“Mr. Atwater—”

“Cecil, please.” He nudged his glasses again. “If you’d rather find a time to talk later, we could meet at Trinna’s. Or the Brunch Barn. Which, just in case no one has filled you in, is not actually a barn and they serve more than brunch.”

“Cecil—”

“Surely you have a few questions of your own. I know pretty much everyone in Muir Harbor. I could be helpful. I can tell you anything you’d like to know about this town, about Muir family lore, about the accident.”

The accident that’d killed Diana?

“Have the siblings told you much of their own history? I’d imagine they’re probably pretty tight-lipped if your identity hasn’t been confirmed yet. Neil’s story, in particular, is an interesting one. You have to admire a man with a background as rocky as his being so committed to keeping the farm going, especially with the way it’s gone downhill through the years and—”

“She’s not interested.”

Lilian. When had she stepped outside?

Cecil’s glasses slipped down his nose. “Now, Lil—”

“Haven’t we had all our family business spread all over your front page enough? Leave Sydney be. Leave all of us be.”

“As you wish.” But he reached into his pocket and came up with a business card. “In case you change your mind, Ms. Rose—”

Lilian waved his hand away. “She won’t.”

With a sigh of resignation, the man stuffed his notebook in his pocket. “Well, then, I’ll bid you both good day.”

He turned to leave, but before he’d even made it a few steps away, Lilian tugged Sydney to face her. “What were you thinking, talking to Cecil?”

“I . . . I didn’t know—”

A fire lit in Lilian’s cobalt eyes. “Maggie doesn’t need another disappointment splayed in newsprint for everyone to read. It’ll be hard enough when . . .”

A disappointment. Hard enough when . . . when I leave. Sydney’s breath caught in her throat.

“Look, everyone’s trying. We’re being nice. We’re being welcoming. Even Neil.” She shook her head. “But if you go around spilling family business to Cecil Atwater, the gloves come off. Got it?”

Sydney hardly had time to nod before Lilian spun on her heels and reentered the store. She let out a tight breath, the exhale doing nothing to relieve the tension gripping her neck and shoulders and all of her. 

The harsh assumption embedded in Lilian’s words stung. But even more than that, the realization that she’d probably never fully grasp all the family dynamics at play at Muir Farm. Even if she did belong, even if her name was supposed to be Cynthia and she was supposed to have grown up here . . . she hadn’t.

There was meaning in the look Lilian and Indi had shared minutes ago inside. There was some unspoken reason Lilian reacted so vehemently just now. There was weight she didn’t comprehend to Neil’s tentative suggestion that Maggie come to town today . . . and her instant refusal. There were secrets and understandings and memories between Maggie and Neil and the sisters she simply wasn’t a part of.

Why did that feel like such a wound? She hadn’t even been here a full forty-eight hours yet. She shouldn’t feel so attached.

You’re just tired. You stayed up too late last night looking at those scrapbooks and—

Wait. There’d been a reason she’d come with the sisters today. She glanced down the block, caught sight of Cecil’s strolling form. 

“Mr. Atwater?” She jogged after him. Please don’t let Lilian look out the window. Don’t let her see . . . 

“Ah, don’t tell me you’re defying the formidable Lilian Muir?”

She shook her head as she reached him, huffing to catch her breath. “You said you know almost everyone in town. Do you know anyone named JP?”

He tapped his pencil against his chin. “There was a JP Ewbanks. Used to own the tackle shop, but he passed away last year, just shy of his ninety-third birthday. Why do you ask?”

“Um, I probably shouldn’t . . .”

He looked over her shoulder, likely checking to make sure Lilian wasn’t lurking. “Off the record?”

“Just . . . someone I’m looking for.”

He raised a finger to his glasses at the bridge of his nose, openly studying her, surely piecing together the reason behind her question easily enough. But in a surprise show of discretion, he simply nodded and reached into his pocket. “Won’t give you my card, lest I earn Lilian’s wrath, but here.” He held out his notebook and pen. “Write down your number. I’ll do some mulling and I’ll give you a call if I think of anyone. Could JP possibly be initials?”

“Maybe. I really don’t know.” She scribbled her number on the small card. “But thank you. I appreciate it.”

“And if you change your mind on that exclusive—”

“I’d prefer to stay out of Lilian’s warpath, too.” But from the look in Lilian’s eyes moments ago, she very much feared it was too late for that.

So much for bonding.