Page 26 of The Cottage on Blueberry Bay

“Is there a hotel or an inn where I could maybe stay a night or two?” Meredith asked Ginny, not wanting to stay in the stranger’s house.

Ginny frowned as she shook her head. “Not in town, but if you head out by the highway, you’ll find something.”

“Any B&Bs?” Surely, something had to be available in this beach town.

Ginny tapped her chin with her finger. “There are a few, but this time of year it’s real hard to find any vacancies. Let me make a few phone calls, and I’ll be right back.”

Ginny walked back toward the front door and out of the house, leaving Meredith alone. Carefully stepping over to the sink, Meredith looked out the window—the ocean seemed endless from that vantage point. Blue as far as she could see sparkled under the high afternoon sun. Triangular white sails quivered in the distance, slowly blowing along the horizon.

She turned back to the picture sitting right at the center of the round table. Picking it up, she closed her eyes to retrieve the tiny bits of memories she had of that day so long ago. All she could remember was the ocean and her mother sitting while watching her.

Exactly one placemat had been carefully arranged, along with a napkin holder and salt and paper shakers. The rest of the old oak table was free of any kind of clutter. A juxtaposition to the rest of the house.

A recliner sat in the corner of the room next to a woodstove. Kindling piled in a wicker basket. Quaint came to mind as Meredith walked the thick honey pine floors. She admired the wood beams that crossed the white spackled ceiling. The antiquated New England cape was adorable.

She stepped over a threshold into another section of the house that looked as though it were a later addition but still very dated. And it was beautiful. The A-frame interior made the room feel like a cathedral, with its beveled glass above the windows and French doors. Tiny rainbows scattered across the walls and ceiling. At the other end, a tall stone fireplace dominated the room from floor to ceiling. Smack in the middle sat a long rectangular table with no accompanying chairs. Only a wingback chair and what looked like a Turkish rug sat in front of the fireplace.

The rest of the room was filled with easels, paints, brushes, tools, papers, canvases—the space crammed with even more art and pottery. A door beside the fireplace led to another room beyond. Then she saw a porch ran along the whole backside of the house.

She reached out and unlocked the doors. The sounds of the ocean were amplified by a hundred as she stepped outside onto a covered porch. Beyond the porch was a small patch of blueberry bushes and beach roses that grew up to the edge of the granite shoreline. A wave pounded against the rocks below, spraying droplets into the sky. They hung suspended in the air, then splattered onto the rocky shoreline.

It was breathtaking. She inhaled the tangy, sweet scents, when an energy swept through her body, stealing her breath and stinging her eyes.

This place was hers?

Meredith had to catch a loose tear and started to laugh. She took in the scene, watching as one wave after another splashed against the rocks.

This place was hers.

“Hello?” a man’s voice called out from the other end of the house.

“Hello?” she said back, unsure where it had come from. She wiped her face with her hands.

“Ms. Johnson?” the voice said.

As she turned to find the voice, Mr. Michaud walked onto the porch.

“Sorry to startle you,” he said, holding out his hands.

She shook her head, crossing her arms against her chest. “It’s fine. Do you need something?”

He pointed back toward where he came from. “My mother said you were looking for a place to stay.”

“Yes,” she said, looking around the house. Did she need a place to stay? Or should she stay at Jacob’s? Or should she go back home and figure this all out?

What did she have to go home to? Phillip wasn’t coming back. The kids were gone doing their own things. Her father had his friends and his own life. She didn’t even have a dog to go home to.

“Just for a few nights.”

He frowned at that. “Look, what if I turn the water on and help clean it up enough for you to be comfortable for at least tonight or until you can find a better arrangement? It’s cramped, but Jacob took surprisingly good care of the place.”

She looked around the porch. She didn’t even think about the water being turned off. Would she have to start paying the bills? What else would she have to do?

Then she looked out at the water. Waking up and having her coffee here, listening to the waves, and watching the seagulls float in the water didn’t sound like a bad idea. When was the last time she had watched a sunrise?

“I think that might be a good idea,” she said, looking out at the water. What did she have to lose at this point?

“Great,” he said. “Let me run next door and grab some hands to help.”

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