“And yet, you came here. You scared me half to death. You insisted on telling me this whole thing. What’s the point when it’s not even provable? What am I supposed to do with it?”

Wilder leaned forward, the bag of frozen veggies crinkling. “I never said it wasn’t provable. Only that I haven’t proved it yet. And as for why I came here and why I told you . . .” Another slow sigh. “It’s like I said earlier. I told Maggie my theory and she sent me. She didn’t want to wait for me to do any more digging. Apparently she thinks her grandmotherly instincts will have all the answers. She wants me to fetch you. Bring you home to Muir Farm. Her words.”

“Fetch me. As in . . . you want me to just drop everything and go to Maine with you?”

He lifted one shoulder, his expression turning apologetic. “That’s about the gist of it.”

The engine’s growl should’ve tugged Neil from sleep.

Would’ve—if he hadn’t already been wide awake, mind churning until he was as knotted up inside as his sheets tangled around him. Instead, the rumble from outside merely stilled his restless movements.

Indi?

But no, she wasn’t due back until Sunday. And Lilian had come home from work around eight, just when he’d been leaving the house, intent on spending the rest of the evening working on the project that just might save Muir Farm.

If he could ever muster up the nerve to tell Maggie about it.

But if it wasn’t either of his sisters in the vehicle outside—and certainly wasn’t Maggie—then who . . .

With a groan as much from fatigue as frustration, he tossed his comforter aside. He dropped his bare feet to the cold hardwood floor and rose to pad across the room to the window overlooking the front lawn.

There, at the end of the gravel driveway—the shadow of a vehicle.

One of his sisters’ friends? Maybe one of them had a boyfriend they hadn’t yet spilled the beans about. Indi’s last breakup had been a good—what? Five, six months ago? Which meant she was probably about due for another relationship soon. Not that she’d appreciate him making assumptions about her roller coaster of a love life.

But no, Indi was in Augusta. Which meant if there was some sort of little late-night tryst happening, it was Lilian. And she, even more so than Indi, definitely wouldn’t love the idea of him standing at the window, playing Nosy Parker.

Except he would’ve heard her if she’d left the house. Every creaking floorboard in the place would’ve given her away. Chilled air wafted from the glass of the window.

With a huff, he turned and reached for the zippered hoodie draped over one bedpost, shrugging it over his shoulders as he padded to his bedroom door. You’re being ridiculous. It’s probably just a lost tourist. Muir Harbor’s Autumn Market was next week and always drew visitors from up and down the coast. Maybe . . .