Maggie’s look was pure triumph. “JP. I already tried calling the camp twice, but no answer. Makes sense considering the season. And there’s no photos of him on their site. Not that I can find anyway.”

Indi started tapping on Maggie’s screen. “But they might have an Instagram account. Or a Facebook page. We can search through photos there, see if Syd recognizes anyone.”

“Or we can drive out. Right away. Today. It looks like the director lives right on site.”

“Maggie—” Lilian began.

But Maggie cut in. “There’s no reason not to. It’s such a short drive. Sydney, we can go together.”

“A road trip sounds more fun to me than milking Melba, that’s for sure.”

Why did he get the feeling if no one else was watching, Sydney would’ve stuck her tongue out at him just then? He narrowed his eyes at her for the briefest moment before returning his attention to Maggie. This was a long shot. That camp director’s name could be pure coincidence.

But wasn’t everything about their quest a long shot?

Their quest. Sometime in the past two days, he’d stopped thinking of Sydney’s mission as hers alone. “If you guys wait a couple hours, I could go with you. Lil’s got work and Indi needs to hit the road but—”

“There’s no need, Neil.” Maggie plucked her phone from Indi’s hands. “Sydney and I are quite capable. We’ll take the Buick.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that he couldn’t remember the last time Maggie had driven anywhere. How rarely she left the farm or went into Muir Harbor, let alone hit the highway.

But another glance at Sydney stopped his words in his throat and he could practically hear her voice. You don’t have to do it all. Let your family help.

She lifted her brow.

Okay, fine, Syd. We’ll do this your way. “Guess I’ll just get back to work, then. Someone has to milk our poor cow.”

Moments later, he watched the women walk away, their chatter drifting behind them—and was glad he had when Sydney turned her head, gave him the briefest smile, a quick wave. Then she tucked her arm through Maggie’s, his too-big coat billowing in the wind behind her.

The sight was enough to keep a smile on his face all the way back to the barn.

Until he saw the truck sitting in front of the machine shed, the Carter Farms logo on its side. Not Tatum again.

Only it wasn’t Tatum striding across the patchy lot. Not enough swagger in his gait.

And yet, Tate Carter was a spitting image of his sire, save the older man’s rugged lines. Sandy hair, brown eyes—determination glinting in his expression. “Morning, MacKean.”

Trapping his groan inside, Neil moved forward, forced out a greeting, and held out his hand.