“Yes, because it’s family tradition,” Maggie interrupted, a hint of censure hovering behind her sweet tone. “Everyone assists with meals throughout the week, but on Sunday, I like the time in the kitchen by myself.”

“We help clean up, though.”

Sydney’s eyes met his once more. She seemed startled that he’d spoken up.

Heck, he was startled. He’d planned to leave the chitchat to the rest of the group. Had wanted nothing more than to fill his stomach, dutifully load up the dishwasher, and head outside, spend the waning hours of the day working on the project no one at this table knew anything about.

Maggie touched his arm. “Neil, why don’t you say grace? Then we can dive in and—”

“Hello, hello. I’m here.” Indi’s singsong voice trailed from the front of the house, the sound of the front door thudding and the thump of her footsteps echoing. “I know I’m late, but only by a few minutes, and when you hear my news, you’ll totally forgive me. I know you will.”

Indi blew into the room with her usual energy, tugging off her jean jacket, her mass of tangled curls bouncing around her face. She plopped into the chair on Lilian’s other side and freed a band from around her wrist, reaching up to pull her hair into a messy bun. Only then did she seem to notice Sydney. “Oh. Hi. You’re the latest would-be Cynthia Muir, yeah? Guess you’ll get to hear my news too.”

Maggie’s sigh was barely perceptible. “Glad you could make it, Indi. Neil was just about to—”

“This can’t wait.” Indi practically bounced in her chair. “I’ve met someone and . . .” She paused, playing up the drama. Because that was Indi. Theatrical. Exasperating. Endearing, in her own way. “We’re engaged.”

Neil dropped his napkin as gasps rang out around the table. Lilian’s shrieked, “What?” about split his eardrums, and Maggie looked shocked enough to faint. Wilder was grinning and congratulating her, and poor Sydney was just sitting there.

Wait, not poor Sydney. She shouldn’t even be here. This was family business.

Indi, his little sister, was engaged? To a guy none of them had even met?

Maggie was standing now, rounding the table again, pulling Indi into a hug, though her bewildered concern was apparent. Lilian bulleted questions faster than he could think and . . .

And he needed a minute. Just one minute of silence and sanity.

He grabbed the half-empty water pitcher and stood, escaping to the kitchen. He marched into the room, jutted the pitcher under the sink. The windowsill above housed a collection of plants with leafy vines spilling over its edge, always in the way of the faucet. He pushed a tangle of leaves away, turned on the water, then let himself lean over the sink and simply breathe.

The farm. Tatum Carter. Sydney Rose. Maggie. Indi engaged.

“Wilder just asked Indi if he could perform the ceremony.” Lilian’s irritated voice, along with the rap of her steps as she entered the kitchen, punctured his moment of quiet. “He said technically he’s a sea captain, which means he should be able to officiate. As if owning a houseboat makes him a captain. Why is that man always here?”