It looked like hope that kept searching. It looked like faith that didn’t give up. It looked like opening your door to a stranger, letting her in and loving her . . . even when she didn’t turn out to be the person you’d hoped.

“I’m not Cynthia.” The strained murmur caught in her throat. She’d have to say these words again later, when Maggie was awake to hear them. Because Neil was right—she couldn’t leave without having this conversation, hard as it might be. Maggie deserved to hear the truth from her. “Tate Carter is my father and he . . . he said CarleeAnn is . . .”

The tears she’d refused to let herself cry last night when she’d attempted to say goodbye to Neil sprang to her eyes now. She blinked them back.

“The thing is, I’m still so glad I came here. Which is probably selfish of me because I know how much you were hoping to find little Cindy. And the thought of hurting you kills me.” She leaned forward, curling her fingers around Maggie’s. “But I just can’t bring myself to regret coming here. I’ll never forget these two weeks.”

They’d changed her. Stretched her. Reminded her . . .

That she had more to give. That somewhere down deep, underneath years of hurt and regret and just trying to get by, she was still the Sydney Rose who knew how to dream. How to find the blessings in life as it was while not being afraid to imagine life as it could be.

And maybe the things she’d imagined in these two weeks weren’t going to come to pass. Maybe after Sunday, she wouldn’t wake up in the yellow house by the sea. Maybe Maggie wasn’t her grandmother. Maybe Neil would never be . . . whatever he might’ve been.

She swallowed and a lone tear slipped free.

But the point was, she’d imagined. She’d hoped. And even now, as her heart broke at the thought of saying goodbye to Neil and Maggie and everyone she’d come to care about in Muir Harbor, there was still a hushed whisper breaking through, beckoning her . . .

Assuring her life could be good even when it didn’t look exactly as she’d imagined. She could return to Chicago and her job and Micah and find joy and purpose and peace. She could seek out new challenges, dream new dreams. She could search for God and find Him in unexpected places.

And on the hard days, she could remember these two weeks and the woman who, in the wake of loss and grief, had created a family and poured herself into it, day after day after day.

“You’ve given me more than you’ll ever know, Maggie Muir.”

She leaned closer and kissed Maggie’s cheek like she’d seen Neil do so many times before.

“By the way,” she whispered, “Neil’s treehouse—it’s amazing. I know it’s not my place but . . . maybe when you’re well, could you just let him show it to you again? Please? I know he can make a success of it. Just don’t let him try to do everything on his own, okay? And especially don’t let him mess up my website. Maybe Lil or Indi can—”