In the distance behind them, the rolling hum of John Pettinger’s leaf blower sounded. Not her father. Not the JP from the photo.

Another billowing draft captured the ends of her scarf and set them flapping against her back. “I know we’ve already talked about this, Maggie, but are you certain you don’t remember anyone else Diana and CarleeAnn might have spent time with that last summer?” Someone had known the both of them, taken that photo with them. “Wilder said there was a guy at a pub. Are you sure she never mentioned or—”

Maggie stopped a few feet from the car. “I know you want answers. I do, too. But Diana was my daughter, and it’s not easy thinking about her being . . .” Her breathing hitched, her tone firmer than Sydney had heard before. “One minute you’re talking about her sleeping with a camp counselor and the next it’s a stranger in a bar and . . . she was only a teenager, Sydney. She was my daughter. Flippantly talking about who she was or wasn’t intimate with is not exactly comfortable for me.”

Hot reproach warred with the bitter wind. “I’m sorry.”

“I still have nightmares about her accident from time to time. I still wonder if I’d been a better mother . . .”

“Oh, Maggie. I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry.”

Maggie had a palm over her heart, apparently still working to catch her breath—from the walk or her exasperation? “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. You just wanted to find your granddaughter, and I’ve turned it into something else entirely. I’ve made it about finding my father instead and . . . and it’s dredging up so many hard things.” She turned around, needing the momentary reprieve from Maggie’s gaze, this benevolent, wonderful woman who’d only shown her kindness and unending welcome since the moment Sydney arrived. “I know this has to be so hard for you and I’m only complicating things further. Not only for you, but now everyone else has been drawn into it too. And it’s the last thing you all need, especially Neil with all he has going on—trying to save the farm, dig it out from a financial danger zone, and—”

“What?”

Too far, Syd. Neil didn’t want her to worry.

“Sydney.”

Why did she keep making things worse? Tell her you were exaggerating. The farm is fine. But lying to her wouldn’t make this any better.

“Maggie, I shouldn’t have . . . I didn’t mean . . .” She finally turned around.

Too late. Maggie was already crumpling to the ground.

Chapter 14

Neil didn’t trust himself to walk into Maggie’s bedroom.