Page 57 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

Tyler checked his watch, then met her gaze. “We’re free to join you, if you want company.”

“You don’t think Emma will revolt?” Robyn asked, arching a brow.

“Does your grandma still keep homemade ice cream in the freezer?” he countered.

Robyn’s mouth curved. “She does.”

“Then let’s go,” Tyler said.

Emma whooped, already stuffing her books back into her backpack, and as they headed for the doors, Robyn felt the strange, thrilling certainty settle over her.

Whatever Isabel had hidden all those years ago, they were about to find it.

TWENTY-SIX

TYLER

“You’re telling me I get to have ice cream for dinner?” Emma asked as Robyn turned off the main road and onto the narrow lane that led into Hidden Hills campground. The paper birch trees lining the roadway were showing off their brilliant golden-yellow leaves while a white-breasted nuthatch called out into the early evening air.

Tyler hid a smile. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, bracing a hand on the dash as they bumped over a pothole. “This is a very special, limited-time-only loophole.”

Emma made an impressed little “hmm” sound, clearly filing that away for later negotiation.

The campground opened up in front of them, quieter than Tyler had ever seen it. If they turned right, the road curved down toward the main loop—past the registration cabin and country store, the empty RV pads, and the bathhouse. Now, in late October, everything was mostly shut down. The big rigs and pop-up campers were gone, the picnic tables stacked, the fire rings cold. Only a handful of diehards would hang on through hunting season.

Robyn flicked on her blinker out of habit and veered left, onto a dirt track lined with pines. The trees closed in for a moment, then the road opened into a clearing where a small cabin sat tucked back from the lane, smoke curling from the chimney and maple leaves scattered across the yard.

“Who lives here?” Emma asked, face pressed to the window.

“This is my grandparents’ place. But I spent a lot of summers here while my parents were off on European vacations and Mediterranean cruises.” Robyn looked up in her rearview mirror.

“You mean they sent you away while they went on fancy vacations?” Emma was incredulous.

“They sure did, but you know what? My sister and I loved it here,” Robyn replied.

Tyler could hear the fondness in her voice, the way it softened around the edges. He tried to picture younger versions of Robyn and Krista running feral through these trees while their parents hopped from one European vacation to another. It fit—this place fit her—more than the polished Yale image she carried.

They parked in the driveway, and Tyler got out just as Emma piped up again, apparently still stuck on the important parts. “So… ice cream for dinner is a yes?”

Robyn laughed, coming around the front of the car. “You are very focused.”

“We made a deal,” Tyler reminded her. “Ice cream if you’re good.”

“I’ll be sure to be extra good,” Emma replied solemnly. “I already was,” she added, swinging her backpack over one shoulder. “I even did my math.”

Robyn’s mouth tilted. “Then, yes. Ice cream is happening.”

That earned a small fist pump.

They started across the yard together. Walt was off to the side, half-hidden behind a row of arborvitaes, wrapping the shrubs in burlap and tying the fabric off with twine. He wore a faded U.S. Navy ball cap, a sweatshirt, and jeans that looked permanently stained with dirt.

“Hey, Gramps,” Robyn called, lifting a hand. “How was your trip?”

Walt straightened slowly, then broke into a grin when he spotted them. Robyn went up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Oh, it was alright. You know how your grandma and Aunt Grace can be. I couldn’t get a word in between them.” He chuckled.

“Whatcha doing?” Emma asked, curiosity beating out shyness as she stepped closer to the shrubs.