Page 54 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

Meghan wore a robe and still clutched her wine. She took a determined sip as Jessica eyed her with disapproval.

“Alcohol never solves problems. It creates them.”

“When I start staggering about the house and hopping on the chandelier for a swing, I invite you to judge.”

She took another sip. Jessica grabbed the glass, hesitated, sniffed, and her face changed. “Ooooooh is this the Roshni Reserve? You opened it without me?” She glared at Meghan.

“You’re right here? And welcome to have some. It is a bit of a celebration, maybe.”

Jessica took a sip, swished it around her mouth a little, and swallowed, her eyes closed and expression blissful.

“It’s as delicious as I remember.”

“And better than tea,” Meghan said firmly, taking another pinot noir wine glass off the shelf and pouring herself out more wine.

“But I…” Jessica looked at the steeping tea.

“It’s not going anywhere. And you’re going to want the wine when I tell you the rest.”

“There’s more?” Jessica eyed her. Her fair complexion paled.

“Sit,” Meghan said, stoppering the wine and putting it in the fridge so that it would last a few days and they could invite Sarah and Chloe over to enjoy it when they shared the news—if they shared the news soon.

“How did you…”

“Sit.” Meghan plunked herself on the couch and drew up her legs to her chest. Jessica sat enviably in lotus position. Meghan had never had that flexibility—all of her sisters had mad pretzel skills, and then it hit her—hard—that Chloe truly was a sister, and yes, it made her father’s response to Chloe as she grew up more despicable and her mother’s understandable, though petty, in a way Meghan wouldn’t have credited.

“This is how it went down,” Meghan began and explained how Sarah had been sorting through all of Grandma Millie’s legal papers as part of her executor functions so that Jessica would have everything she needed for G. Millie’s taxes and Meghan could tackle the legalities.

“Do you have the letter? I want to see it.”

“Sarah kept it with other letters and scrapbooks. She’s put it back in the trunk that G. Millie kept at the foot of her bed. I took a picture,” she said slowly, reluctant to get to this part. Jessica had always been a daddy’s girl. She’d always been the favorite—their father could do no wrong. Mama had been more the disciplinarian—setting the expectations high, higher, and highest for all of them.

“Why did she pick Grandma Millie’s?” Jessica mused again. “The house, I bet.” Jessica sipped her wine, tea forgotten. “Do you remember, it had snowed that year. We’d been so excited to have a white Christmas, and then we heard those little cries, and I thought Santa had brought us a kitten.” Jessica’s face lit up at the memory.

“A baby was a true Christmas miracle, but how desperate she must have been, how sad to give up her baby that she’d nursed and cherished and cared for, for a few months. She must have been so… so…” Jessica waved her hand as if she couldn’t express the emotions that had brought Chloe into their lives.

“I wonder if she’s kept up with Chloe? I mean she couldn’t know that we’d keep her, but how couldn’t we? She was such a beautiful baby with all that curly dark hair and big eyes like pansies, and remember? Her lips were like a rose—so pink and poofy even as a baby. Adorable, like she was about to say something.”

“Jessie, there’s more.”

“Of course there’s more to the story. I want to see the letter.”

Jessica leaned forward as if to swipe Meghan’s phone out of her hand, but Meghan held on, debating. Would it be better for her to tell Jessica or let her discover the truth from the letter, like Sarah had done, and then she had?

“Let me read the letter.” Impatience edged her voice.

Meghan texted the picture she’d taken of the letter and Jessica eagerly swooped her phone off the table.

“It wasn’t random, but it sure was a trust the universe hail Mary in my opinion,” was all the warning Meghan gave her sister while she waited for the fallout as Jessica read.

When it came, it wasn’t what she expected. Jessica read, her expression wary. Then likely read it again before looking up.

“Poor, sweet Chloe.” Jessica’s tears were fat and rained down her cheeks. “Our poor sweet Chloe, our sister denied her mother and father. This makes it worse. Chloe’s mom—this Athena Zoe, that even sounds like a stage name, thought she was doing the right thing, leaving her precious baby with her father and ready-made family, and Daddy wanted to… he wanted to—” She broke off, sobbing into a throw pillow. “I remember hearing him argue once that Grandma Millie should have put her in foster care so she could be adopted by a suitable family. It was right before we moved to Cramer Mountain, and I didn’t understand what he meant, but I’d never heard Grandma Millie so angry.”

Jessica continued to sob. Meghan had never been emotional. She’d felt more anger than sorrow, and a deep-seated relief that G. Millie had had the moral code and open heart that her son had lacked. Still, she rose up and sat beside her sister, pulling her into a hug.

“How could he? How could he?” Jessica demanded and then she jumped up and paced around the room. “I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. How could he? Deny his own child. His flesh and blood. He must have had feelings for that woman to risk his whole family, and yet he just pretended to be outraged that his mother kept the baby—her grandchild.” Jessica paced, her hands fists.

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