She faced him once more. “I guess I’m being repetitive, but it’s incredible. That’s all I can think to say.”

Her words, the unmistakable awe in her voice—he was rendered mute. There she stood in that silly robe and those silly boots, saying things that just plain dumbfounded him. But there was no denying the way her words burrowed deep under his skin.

Say something.

“I, um . . . thank you.” The words felt paltry next to the appreciation simmering inside of him.

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“You were coming out here for a reason before I waylaid you, weren’t you?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Painting. I was going to start painting.” He motioned his head toward the unopened cans in the corner.

“Want some help?”

“Well . . . sure.” Why did his head feel so foggy? And his throat—had he inhaled sawdust? “You’re not exactly dressed for it, though. Might get paint on your robe.”

She flashed a grin. “Too bad for Greta.”

They were only footprints. And very soon to be lost in the placid morning rain. No reason to be up in arms.

Still. Neil straightened in the front yard, swiping at the raindrops on his cheeks, Lilian’s umbrella not quite the cover she meant it to be. Despite the damp, the morning was warmer than normal for late October, the mellow air creating a misty fog around them.

“They’re too small to be your shoes,” Lilian said, her usual travel mug tucked in the crook of one arm. “I don’t even know what made me notice them. But someone’s been snooping around.”

Snooping? What caused her to immediately jump to that? “Could be Sydney’s prints.”

Lilian shook her head. “Too big for hers. Or Indi’s. And don’t say Wilder—he’s got giant feet.”

Lilian had found him in the kitchen just as he was about to head out for chores a little later than usual. He’d lingered at the coffeepot longer today, wondering when their houseguest might appear.

Not that he was waiting for her. Why would he do that? So Sydney knew his secret. So she’d spent two hours last night helping him paint. So he’d actually kind of enjoyed talking to her.

Really enjoyed her endless barrage of compliments about all his work on the treehouse.

Didn’t mean . . . well, anything. Other than maybe he wouldn’t have minded if she’d arrived downstairs as early today as she had yesterday, accompanied him out to the barn again. He could’ve cajoled her into making nice with Melba.

He shook his head now, as much to brush off the silly thought as to quell whatever concerns were currently playing through Lilian’s head. “I just don’t think some random footprints are any reason to be upset.”

“But that car the other night.”

“Someone was lost. Maybe they didn’t realize it at first. Maybe they got out of their vehicle before realizing they weren’t where they thought they were.” He peered at his sister. Her tan trench coat was cinched at the waist and her high heels nearly put her at eye level with him. Why the faint circles under her eyes? The glint of heaviness hanging over her? “This doesn’t seem like you, Lil. Are you getting enough sleep?”