Neil had told her to look for the massive house at the top of the hill. “Four dormer windows and a red front door. A crazy amount of house for two single men—though, I guess there’s three of them when Tate’s son is with him.”

Tate Carter, Jr., apparently, had moved in with his widowed father when he’d divorced more than a decade ago. She’d seen the scattering of outbuildings dotting the hillside as she drove the winding road to the house, recognized the Carter Farms logo on the side of a bright red barn.

Now here she stood, rooted to the mat just inside the front door, wondering why she’d been so set on doing this today. Alone. Without so much as a phone call in advance.

But it was too late to turn back now. Tatum had already seen her pull in the huge circle drive. He’d come ambling over from what looked like a garden shed, hadn’t more than cocked an eyebrow when she’d asked to talk to Tate Carter. He’d let her inside and disappeared down a wide hallway.

This was insane. Coming here with only a yellowed photo and the memory of a vague remark from CarleeAnn Picknell that might or might not mean what she’d always assumed.

“Uh, good morning.”

The shadowed corridor hid the approaching form for a moment both too long and too brief. He might think this is some crazy joke. He might get angry. He might say it’s not even him in the photo.

But Neil had been positive. Not a doubt in his mind, he’d said. The young man in the photo was Tate Carter.

And now Tate Carter stood in front of her, the light of the half-circle window over the front door, cloud cover and all, confirming Neil’s assurance. Same slightly crooked nose as in the photo. Same blondish hair with a hint of red. Goodness, he even wore a shirt with the Carter Farms logo on it. Not blue like in the picture, but—

“My dad said you wanted to see me.” He jutted out his hand. “Sorry if I’m not quite placing you. I don’t have some appointment I’ve completely spaced off, do I?”

Did he notice the clamminess of her hand as they shook? “No. No appointment. In fact, I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I . . . I—”

“Heading into town, son.” Tatum Carter strode into view, pulling the same hat he’d been wearing when she arrived over his head again now. He gave her only a quick nod, and she stepped to the side so he could pass her and open the door.

But he stopped just outside. “Maggie Muir’s place. You were there the other morning. Knew your face looked familiar.”

She couldn’t help a quick glance at Tate. “Y-yes.”

“She didn’t by any chance send you with some good news, did she?”

All she could manage was a shake of her head.

“Well, had to ask.” He moved off, disappearing behind the shed.