“One of these days, you’ll believe me when I say Melba is the most harmless creature you’ll ever meet.”

She rolled her eyes before leaning in to kiss Maggie’s cheek just as he had moments ago. “See you later, Maggie.” She tipped her head to look at him. “Enjoy the company of your cow, Neil.”

And then she was hurrying down the porch steps and jogging through the rain to Lilian’s Honda.

“She’s not like the others, Neil.”

Maggie leaned against the doorframe now, her white braid draped over one shoulder, her gaze fixed on Lilian’s car as it motored away.

“I like her better than Greta, anyway.”

He expected Maggie to laugh. Instead, she touched his arm. “I think she might need us. Whether or not she’s Diana’s. Whether or not she’s Cynthia. I can feel it. She needs us.”

He stepped to Maggie’s side and tucked his arm around her shoulder. He hoped he never forgot to be grateful for this woman who’d given him a home, a family, everything. “Well, maybe there’s some reason we need her too.” He dropped his arm, felt his forehead wrinkle. “Though I have no idea why I just said that.”

Now she chuckled. “Because no matter how determined you were not to like her, Neil MacKean, you’ve got a heart bigger than the sky and deeper than the ocean.” She elbowed his side and disappeared into the house.

Though the rain had dissipated by the time they reached town, damp air blustered over Sydney the moment she rose from the back seat of Lilian’s car, the gust capturing her hair and sending it fluttering around her face.

One thing she’d learned in almost two days at the farm—there was little point in fussing over style. Not with the seaside wind always at the ready.

Indi, though, didn’t seem to follow the same rule. Underneath her unbuttoned raincoat, her fashionable boho dress, a swirl of reds and purples and greens, billowed around her legs, her collection of bracelets clinking in time with the heels of her tall boots. “Hurry, ladies. If we’re late, Patti Brighton-Smythe will have our heads.”

Lilian closed her driver’s-side door, dropped her keys in her purse, voice low and apparently meant only for Sydney. “Ironic, really, Indi being the one to worry about being late.”

This was the most dressed-down Sydney had seen Lilian. Both Sunday night and Monday, Lilian had been in slacks and a blazer, but today she’d paired dark jeans with her heels and her top, visible near the open collar of her trench coat, was a soft gray sweater.