Page 23 of The Cottage on Blueberry Bay

Ginny had that way of making him do the right thing, even if it meant the wrong thing for him.

“It’s the largest property on the shoreline here in Blueberry Bay,” he said. “Lots of developers have been hounding Jacob to sell, but he wanted to leave it the way it was.”

“Why didn’t he make it into conservation if he had been so worried about it?” she asked.

How many times had Quinn tried to persuade him to do just that? Jacob had always refused. “Because he wanted the next generation to keep it in the family.”

She laughed at this. “He wanted to keep it in the family?” She laughed again but suddenly stopped cold. “I’m sorry, Mr. Michaud, but I want nothing to do with this piece of property.”

He closed his eyes for a split second as he felt the blow. All that work, and she didn’t even open the book.

“It’s not just a piece of property, Mrs. Johnson.” He stopped, knowing he was crossing into gray area as an attorney. “It has become a special place for our community.”

“It’s Ms. Johnson. I’m divorced.” Her voice came out hard, like a schoolteacher correcting a class clown. She got up, taking the booklets and packets of information Quinn had stayed up all night preparing and piled it up in front of her. “I’m sorry Mr.Michaud, but it’s just a property to me.”

Quinn stood from his seat as Ms. Johnson collected everything, along with Jacob’s keys, and walked out.

CHAPTER9

“Keep it in the family,” she said to herself in the car as she started it. “Are you kidding me?”

She reversed the car, then put it into drive. Then she stopped. Where was she going?

If Jacob’s attorney hadn’t come out of his office at that exact moment, she might have pulled back in and looked through the documents. Maybe called Remy and talked this through. She really wanted to call Phillip. Talk to someone who knew something about law besides Jacob’s lawyer who wanted her to hand over a piece of land for the good of the community.

She drove through the intersection and back up the road where she’d come from, heading in the direction of home. She would go back to Andover, where she could take her time and figure out what to do. Find a real estate agent willing to work with her from Massachusetts, because she’d had enough of this place already.

She threw on her blinker to take the next turn toward the highway, when she looked in the rearview mirror and saw her mother’s face. The statue stared back at her. When the light turned green, she didn’t turn. Instead, she pulled over into a parking spot and sat there, looking into the mirror. She cut the engine, studying her mother’s expression.

Grabbing the handle, Meredith got out of the car and faced the bronze statue. Her mother looked as though she floated on the water behind her. She slammed the door and walked back to the park, ranting off questions to her mother inside her head.

Why didn’t you tell me about him?

Why didn’t you say he had been in an accident?

Why didn’t he reach out if he had all this money?

When did you come back and visit besides the time you brought me?

Did Gordon know any of this?

She walked straight up to the statue, ready to scream at it, when a mother holding two little girls’ hands walked up to it.

“I want to be a mermaid,” one of the little girls said to her mother. She wore a pink polka-dot bathing suit.

“Are they real?” the other girl asked her mother.

The mother smiled. “Only in fairy tales.”

“I’m going to believe they’re real,” the little girl said, closing her eyes shut as if she were making a wish.

“Can I be a mermaid?” the little sister asked.

“No.” The mother shook her head, then picked the little one up. “But you can take care of the people we love, like mermaids.”

Meredith looked at the mother, wishing her own mother could answer her questions.

“Ms. Johnson?” a voice said behind her.

---