Wait, was that what this was about?

“I wanted to adopt you, Neil. I hope you know that. But with all the logistics, I honestly couldn’t afford it. And your aunt and uncle weren’t exactly being helpful from across an ocean and—”

“We don’t need to talk about this. I’m not upset. I’ve always understood.”

“You can understand the facts of something and still hurt over it.” Her eyes roved over his face, as if looking for something, asking a question of him.

Emotion snuck up on him, his voice coming out husky and low. “You’ve never not given me anything I truly needed, Maggie.” But maybe this was something she needed now. Honest, vulnerable words.

Perhaps in his efforts in the past days and months and years to be dependable, to be strong, to prove his place in the family even if he didn’t have the name to show for it, he had somehow, without even realizing it, pushed away the one woman who’d only ever offered him . . . everything. Love and family and a home.

“But I guess . . . I did hurt over it. I did want . . .” He took a breath. “I wanted something that I know now—always knew, really—that I already had. To be your son. To be in your family.”

“Then I say it’s time we make it official. Although there’s a slight complication in that neither I nor Lilian have any idea what the process is to legally adopt a thirty-four-year-old.”

He would laugh if he was at all capable of doing anything other than taking in the love in her voice and her eyes.

“But a legal name change?” She tilted toward him. “It’s just a little money and some paperwork. So I’m just wondering, dear, how attached are you to your current last name?”

He really couldn’t speak now. Not with tears pricking the backs of his eyes. But Maggie waited, and finally he managed to croak, “Not very.”

“Well, good then.”

He rubbed his free hand over his eyes. “But I thought this was about your will?”

“Yes. Once you’re officially Neil Muir, I’ll need to update the will. Specifically, the part where I leave you the land. The house will go to the girls, but I’m sure by that point your rental business will be booming and you can buy them out.”

Emotion clogged his throat all over again. “Maggie—”

“Neil, you are Muir Farm. Maybe your name didn’t reflect it, but the farm and what you’ve made of it reflects you. And what you’re going to make of it, too.”

He didn’t know what to say, how to express the gratitude welling inside him. “I love you, Maggie.”

“I know you do.”

“And I’ll only do the treehouse thing if it’s truly what you want.”

She let out another quiet laugh and closed her eyes. “You’ve already done the treehouse thing. But yes, move forward with it. Build two or three more and show off Muir Farm to the world. I’m done letting the past steal our future.”