Page 30 of The Cottage on Blueberry Bay

This seemed to make her scowl.

“I’ll start with getting rid of any trash.” Quinn grabbed a trash bag.

Meredith stared at him. “A lawyer that cleans. How much did he pay you?”

Not enough, Quinn said in his head, but then aloud, he said, “I just want to help make your stay as comfortable as possible.”

She looked like she didn’t believe him, but she pointed her phone at the plastic container of blueberry scones. “Is this safe to eat, you think?”

“Linda makes the best blueberry scones this side of the Saco,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the cabinets. “Let me grab a plate for you.”

He pulled out a cooler he had packed. Cream, milk, a bit of sugar, a container of freshly picked blueberries, a box of crackers, and his mother’s own famous blueberry jam. After setting it on the table, he went to the cabinet before realizing she hadn’t given permission. He stopped in his tracks.

“I mean, if that’s okay?” he asked, wincing as he looked at her.

“That’s really nice of you,” she said, sitting down at the table. “Would you care to join me?” She held out her hand.

He hesitated for a split second. Did she really want him there or did she feel obligated? He set the container down between them, and sat, placing the plates down. “You can’t keep me away from Linda’s scones.”

“How well did you know Jacob?” she asked while opening the lid.

“Not as well as you would think living next door, but well enough.” Quinn rolled his eyes at his answer. Could he be more vague?

He didn’t want to tell the whole truth yet and scare the woman off. Jacob had been a bit of a recluse while Quinn had been growing up. He had been Ol’ Man Jacob back then, and he’d stayed in his house, no matter how many times Quinn had dropped off baked goods and treats from his mother. Quinn never saw Ol’ Man Jacob come out of his house more than a handful of times. He’d been a legend during Halloween. A real live Boo Radley.

When Quinn came back, a widower in over his head with a curious little boy, that was when Jacob had come out of the house. He’d liked Kyle. Kyle would knock on Jacob’s front door and ask to play in his yard. Jacob had never said a word, just gave Kyle a nod and retreated into the house.

Quinn hadn’t even known Kyle had started talking to Jacob until years after playing in Jacob’s yard.

“He said he’ll teach me to fish!” Kyle had said one day after coming home from the beach.

“Who?” Quinn had asked.

“Jacob!”

Quinn hadn’t liked the idea of the village drunk spending time with his son on a boat, alone, and Ginny hadn’t liked it either and told Jacob so.

“You can’t be drinking and take my grandson out on the water,” Ginny had said, sticking her finger in Jacob’s chest.

Quinn had been certain Jacob was afraid of Ginny, because he’d sobered up after that.

He turned to Meredith. “You don’t know anything about him at all?”

She shook her head, taking a scone and biting into it. She closed her eyes. “This is good.”

He got up. “Coffee?”

She looked pleasantly surprised. “Yes, please.”

He pulled out the familiar coffee grounds he had purchased for Jacob a few weeks ago.

“My mom probably knew him best,” Quinn said, scooping out the grounds into the coffee filter.

“Was he mentally disturbed?” she asked, her eyes glancing at the photograph that sat on the table.

Quinn shook his head. “He suffered a severe head injury in the boat accident, but he had a serious problem with alcohol as well.”

“Your mom said I should look it up,” she said, breaking the scone apart with her fingers. “The accident.”

---