“You deserve to be able to do that,” I said, giving her another squeeze. “Just like he deserves everything we do to keep him from winning, and then some.”

“And for what his family’s doing to the orchards, too,” Linden said darkly, shaking her head. “You should see their fancy new outdoor setup over at Camelot, Em. Maybe it’s not personal to them, just more tourist money. Diversifying their assets or whatever. But Honeycake is special, anyone can feel it. How could they—how could anyone—put a perfect place like this at risk?”

Caught up in righteous outrage on Linden’s behalf, I’d almost forgotten that piece of things. On a Halloween-month weekend like this one, the orchard should have been slammed with a steady stream of visitors, bouncing along on the hayride that became charmingly “haunted” after dark, rambling their way through the hedge maze, wandering through the tidy rows of trees with lumpy totes slung over their shoulders, apples rolling in their wake. But instead I’d seen only a thin trickle of tourists the whole time we’d been here.

And given how teeming the town was with visitors, there should have been more than enough to go around—had things not become so rigged in the Blackmoores’ favor.

“That just makes me hate that jagbag even more,” I said, jaw tight. “Him and his whole shitty family.”

Linden let out a surprised little burst of laughter. “That what?”

“Jagbag, it’s a Chicago thing. I think it’s a slightly more couth version of jackass, or maybe jerkoff? I just like how it sounds.”

“Jagbag,” she repeated, trying it on. “Yeah, you know, I like it for him, too. It fits.”

We lapsed into companionable silence as the sunflowers bobbed above us, their heads rippling as a brisker edge of wind scythed through the field. I tugged my fisherman’s sweater tighter over my shoulders with a cozy shiver, enjoying both the spun wool and the chill.

“I’ve missed this, Lins,” I said, tilting my head back to squint up at the sun. “Just talking with you. And all the dumb stuff we used to pull together, thinking we were such hot shit. Remember when we went swimming in the water tower à la the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, like that was ever gonna end well?”

“And then our hard cider buzz wore off, and we both remembered how we felt about heights. Poor Rowan had to come grow us a rescue vine.” She breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. “We were so ridiculous.”

“But in the best way, right? I really have missed us, Lin. I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?” Linden said, in such a quietly wounded tone that my head snapped up, my heart suddenly tripping over itself. “Because I’ve tried so hard, Em, so hard to keep us together. To keep us friends. And sometimes it seems like you want that, too, and I feel like I still have you, like we’re still us. But then other times . . .” She shook her head, the corners of her mouth drawing down. “You feel so far away. Like if we never saw each other again, you might be totally okay with it.”