“We call it the town square,” Lilian explained, following Sydney’s line of sight, “even though it’s clearly not a square. And no, we haven’t met him. Indi’s dating history is a little bit of a whirlwind. She’s always been the most . . . carefree of all of us.”

Something told Sydney carefree really meant something more along the lines of flighty. But Lilian said it with obvious affection.

“That’s her store across the street, by the way.” She pointed to a tall, narrow building, brick exterior painted white and windows framed by yellow shutters. A nod to Maggie? An artsy metal sign over the entrance read Bits & Pieces. “She was only twenty-four when she opened it. Honestly, I was a little skeptical about the whole thing. Not Neil, though. He loaned her half of what she needed to make the down payment on the building. Pretty sure he’s never let her pay him back. She opened her second store in Augusta earlier this year.”

It was the most Lilian had spoken to Sydney. Almost felt as much of a victory as when Neil had let her come along to the treehouse last night.

That treehouse. Wasn’t all that hard to believe the same man who’d envisioned and created such a magical little haven in the middle of nowhere would see the promise in his younger sister’s dream.

A small car motored past, and Lilian lifted her hand in a wave at its honk. She gave the same greeting to someone inside a donut shop as they passed, the sweet smell wafting underneath its awning bringing Nikola and her caramel rolls to mind. She owed her friend a text one of these days.

“So is the meeting in the town square?” Er, circle.

Lilian shook her head. “Not today.”

Then why was Indi jogging to the center of the lawn? She stopped at a small bulletin board in front of a white gazebo, strings of faux red and orange leaves woven in and out of its lattice. A moment later, Indi reversed course and started their way again. “Earl’s Place,” she called.

Lilian gave a brisk nod and veered across the street, leaving Sydney, clueless, to follow. Within minutes they were passing underneath a green-and-white-striped awning and pushing their way into a . . .

Sydney paused on the threshold. A hardware store?

And a crowded one, at that. People milled in between shelves and metal bins—standing-room only. She moved farther inside, wedging into a spot near Lilian.

“Weird place for a meeting, I know,” the woman said. “We used to hold all our society meetings at Trinna’s Teatime.”

“Which is actually a coffee shop,” Indi added, coming up beside her.

“Right,” Lilian confirmed. “Though, to be fair, Trinna does have all these loose-leaf teas on display, but we’re all pretty sure they’re at least ten years old. She’s always complaining no one ever buys anything but coffee and mochas and lattes.” Lilian shrugged. “What can we say? We’re a coffee town.”