The last light of day cracked open the sky in a wash of fire—golds and corals streaked with violet, the kind of sunset that makes a soul ache. Terry and Wren swung open the barn doors wide, and the darkness inside was suddenly alive—hundreds of tiny round lights strung like constellations across weathered beams, lace-draped tables glimmering beneath them like a dream.

Isobel’s fingers laced tighter through Ryder’s, her pulse racing. “What is all this?”

Ryder leaned closer, his low ...