Lilian’s barking voice greeted him the moment he stepped into the kitchen, the chaos pulsing through the crowded room tempting him to step right back out. He’d hoped to grab a shower before being pulled into market preparation. If only he’d been smart enough to walk in the front door and slip upstairs before Lilian spotted him.

The heat of the kitchen told him Maggie had been doing plenty of last-minute baking. And she’d had help, by the looks of things. A pie balanced in each hand and a third tucked in the crook of one elbow, Sydney moved across the room as if gliding, her berry-stained apron hanging unknotted and loose. Was that a streak of flour on her forehead?

“I don’t know how she does it,” Maggie said, suddenly at his side. “Earlier I watched her carry five of them at once.”

Sydney must’ve heard the remark. She glanced over at them, grinned. “A thousand years of waitressing, that’s how.”

“The jam, Neil.” Lilian again.

“She’s bossy today.” Maggie lifted a basket filled with Saran-wrapped baked goods. Blueberry scones, muffins, turnovers. The heavenly smells permeating the room made his stomach gurgle.

He picked up the crate filled with jams, mason jars rattling inside. “She’s always bossy on market days.” And frankly, he was thankful for it. Lilian’s organization was the reason Muir Farm had one of the best booths each fall—not to mention at the winter, spring, and summer markets too.

The seasonal Saturday evening events, much bigger affairs than the weekly roadside farmers markets that took place throughout each summer and autumn, were Muir Harbor traditions, coaxing visitors from surrounding counties and even all around the state. Vendors came in by the dozens, selling all manner of homemade wares, hand-crafted jewelry, and art and gift items. The food stands were his favorite—though the chances of Lilian freeing him from their own booth long enough to fill his stomach were slim, especially with Indi busy at the Bits & Pieces stand.

Then again, they had an extra pair of hands helping this year.

Sydney pulled one last pie from the oven, her gaze glimmering with delight as she turned to Maggie. “Will it cool in time to pack it up?” Her gaze tilted to Neil. “My very first pie. That is, the first one Maggie let me make on my own.”

“And she did a fine job. Crimped the crust and everything.” Maggie waved a hand over the pie’s surface. “Probably best not to cover it just yet. Hold it on your lap on the drive into town. Should be fine for boxing up by the time you get there.”

“Or you could keep it here.” Neil lowered his crate to the table once more. “We could all have a midnight snack when we get home tonight.”