He peered at the screen, seconds ticking by before he understood what he was seeing. A picture of wood crates filled with lush berries, white letters overtop. Welcome to Muir Farm. Underneath the heading, three more pictures of the farm and smaller headings. Reserve Fresh Berries. Join Us for Harvest. Book Your Stay.

A website?

“What do you think?” Sydney moved her mouse, clicking on the third photo. “Putting the treehouse on Airbnb is smart, but I also think it’s a good idea to have a reservation form on your own site.”

“You made us a website?”

“Maggie was napping yesterday and I was feeling creative. I’ve only got the bare bones in place and, of course, it’s not live yet. But you need a website, Neil. All those orders you take over the phone—it’d be so much easier to track them here.” She clicked open another page. “And if you were serious about inviting guests to help with harvest, they can sign up for that here too.”

“But . . . but why would you . . . how . . .” He was speechless again. Just like that night in the treehouse. Was that a logo at the corner of the screen? A graphic of a house, ocean waves behind it, Muir in scripted font in front of it.

“I built a site for my friend’s bakery recently, and the restaurant where I work, too. My one year in college was good for something, at least.”

“Syd, I . . . thank you. But you shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to. You’ve all been so welcoming. This is a small thing I could do to say thank you.”

They hadn’t all been welcoming. Not at first. Lilian still hadn’t warmed up to her. “This isn’t a small thing.”

She swiveled in the desk chair and stood. “Well, it’s like I said the other night, you need to let other people help. This is what I could do to help. You know, since I’m still not up to milking Melba.”

He shouldn’t do it. He really shouldn’t do it.

But he couldn’t stop his hand from lifting, his fingers from brushing the flour from her hair.

Until her look of surprise brought him to his senses. “Uh, sorry . . . flour. In your hair.”

“Oh.” She took a step back, gave a nervous laugh.

Stupid, Neil. What in the world had possessed him? He needed Lilian in this moment, barking no-nonsense orders and telling him not to stare. Say something.

But Sydney came to the rescue first. “By the way, I thought of something else we could add to the website.”

Was there an airiness to her voice or was he only imagining it?

“Maggie told me this old Muir Harbor legend yesterday while we were baking. I think we should offer nighttime hayrides or seaside walks or something and we could tell that story. Make it kind of eerie and fun.”