“Have the siblings told you much of their own history? I’d imagine they’re probably pretty tight-lipped if your identity hasn’t been confirmed yet. Neil’s story, in particular, is an interesting one. You have to admire a man with a background as rocky as his being so committed to keeping the farm going, especially with the way it’s gone downhill through the years and—”

“She’s not interested.”

Lilian. When had she stepped outside?

Cecil’s glasses slipped down his nose. “Now, Lil—”

“Haven’t we had all our family business spread all over your front page enough? Leave Sydney be. Leave all of us be.”

“As you wish.” But he reached into his pocket and came up with a business card. “In case you change your mind, Ms. Rose—”

Lilian waved his hand away. “She won’t.”

With a sigh of resignation, the man stuffed his notebook in his pocket. “Well, then, I’ll bid you both good day.”

He turned to leave, but before he’d even made it a few steps away, Lilian tugged Sydney to face her. “What were you thinking, talking to Cecil?”

“I . . . I didn’t know—”

A fire lit in Lilian’s cobalt eyes. “Maggie doesn’t need another disappointment splayed in newsprint for everyone to read. It’ll be hard enough when . . .”

A disappointment. Hard enough when . . . when I leave. Sydney’s breath caught in her throat.

“Look, everyone’s trying. We’re being nice. We’re being welcoming. Even Neil.” She shook her head. “But if you go around spilling family business to Cecil Atwater, the gloves come off. Got it?”

Sydney hardly had time to nod before Lilian spun on her heels and reentered the store. She let out a tight breath, the exhale doing nothing to relieve the tension gripping her neck and shoulders and all of her.

The harsh assumption embedded in Lilian’s words stung. But even more than that, the realization that she’d probably never fully grasp all the family dynamics at play at Muir Farm. Even if she did belong, even if her name was supposed to be Cynthia and she was supposed to have grown up here . . . she hadn’t.

There was meaning in the look Lilian and Indi had shared minutes ago inside. There was some unspoken reason Lilian reacted so vehemently just now. There was weight she didn’t comprehend to Neil’s tentative suggestion that Maggie come to town today . . . and her instant refusal. There were secrets and understandings and memories between Maggie and Neil and the sisters she simply wasn’t a part of.

Why did that feel like such a wound? She hadn’t even been here a full forty-eight hours yet. She shouldn’t feel so attached.

You’re just tired. You stayed up too late last night looking at those scrapbooks and—