“I’ve reheated all the food.” Maggie turned back to Sydney. “But could we talk? Just for a minute?”

She couldn’t have declined if she’d wanted to, not with that kindness in Maggie’s gaze. The woman moved to the daybed, pushed Sydney’s luggage toward the brass bars at the back, and sat, patting the spot beside her.

Sydney obeyed, lowering next to Maggie.

“I know this must be all so very bewildering to you. I’m still finding it hard to believe myself that Wilder managed to get you on a plane and bring you here. I’m pretty sure he thought I was batty for insisting he go to Chicago.”

“He said you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Maggie let out a low chuckle, one white tress escaping its plait and uncurling over her shoulder. Her gentle nature seemed right at home in this room with all its soft colors and feminine touches—white wallpaper patterned with little sprigs of flowers, lacy curtains, light green comforter and bed skirt and matching pillows.

“This used to be her room, you know.”

Her . . . ? Oh, of course. Diana.

“There’s so much I’d do differently if I could go back in time. I was so young when I became her mother. I . . .” Maggie shook her head. “I know you’ve had a bumpy start to your visit, Sydney, but I hope you’ll stay. I’d like to tell you about my Diana.” She reached for Sydney’s free hand and clasped it between both of her own. “Wilder can keep searching for answers, but I think we just might find our own simply by talking, getting to know one another.”

It sounded so . . . lovely. So very inviting. “But what . . . what if I’m not—”

Maggie squeezed her palm before releasing it, then lifted her hand to pat Sydney’s cheek. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. Now, I’d better leave you so you can eat your supper before it gets cold a second time.” She moved to the door but stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “You will stay?”

Wilder was right. There was simply no saying no to Maggie.

But it wasn’t just Maggie. It was this charming bedroom. It was this big, old house. It was the ocean.

Perhaps it was even the others downstairs, the camaraderie she’d sensed between them just in those few minutes in the dining room. And some small, nonsensical hope that maybe she could find her way into their circle.

She nodded, and an unmistakable relief eased the lines in Maggie’s face. The older woman turned to leave but halted again. “Oh, Neil. You’re heading outside? Wait for a minute, will you?”

Neil was out there? Sydney caught a glimpse of plaid and dark hair past where Maggie stood in the doorway. Shoot. Just when she’d begun to feel better about being here . . .

“Do you need something, Maggie?”

That was a fair degree of reluctance lurking behind his Scottish-tinged words.