Page 4 of The Cottage on Blueberry Bay

“I think I’ll wait until tomorrow.” She shrugged. “I don’t really want to know what he left me.”

“Take your time,” he said, but it was obvious that he wanted to know what was inside. How did Gordon feel about her father? She had no idea. He never spoke a negative word about Jacob O’Neill, the situation, about becoming her father, and adopting her. Did this bring up feelings about his relationship with Jacqueline?

She poked her finger through the small opening at the top and ripped it through.

Inside were thick papers with fancy ink letterhead.

Meredith pulled off a business card that was paper clipped to the letter.Quinn Michaudwas written on top of the card, with Attorney at Law underneath it.

“You should call him,” her dad said.

She looked at the return address—Blueberry Bay, Maine. She pulled the papers out. A quick glance revealed standard last will and testament documents. Like her divorce papers—cold, wordy, and without emotion.

“Okay, then,” she said, stuffing the papers back into the envelope. “I love you, Dad, but I’m tired. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

Gordon nodded, not pushing her to call the attorney like Phillip and her mom would have.

“I’m just really tired and had a long day, and I…” She paused, then said, “Don’t want to deal with this until the morning.”

“Of course,” he said, getting up from his seat at the table. He walked his bowl to the sink and put the ice cream into the freezer, leaving hers there. “You’ve had a long day.” He stood next to her as she got up and hugged her for a long time. “I love you, sugarplum.”

“I love you, too,” she said as he kissed her on the cheek.

“You can always come back home and stay with me,” he said into her ear.

“Dad, I’m fifty.” She was not going to have a sleepover with her father. “I live down the road from you.”

“We could combine households,” he suggested. “Save some money.”

Meredith had thought she’d reached rock bottom with Phillip having a baby with another woman, but she could not believe how bad things continued to get.

“Are you okay to get home?” She changed the subject, ushering Gordon toward the door.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m just glad there are streetlights.”

“Yeah, those help at night,” she said. Her father had not been particularly good at driving at night lately. Not that she was after she’d started needing to wear readers.

“Bye, Dad,” she said, trying to sound upbeat, but her voice came out weak. She opened his door once they got outside.

He kissed her on the cheek once more before getting in. She shut the door and gave him a thumbs-up, a gesture they’d done with each other since she was a little girl playing soccer for the first time.

When she got back inside, she stared at the envelope. Her biological father was in that envelope. This was the closest she had ever been to him since she was a small child.

She thought about reading the papers, but instead she turned off the lights and went upstairs to bed.

By midnight, she had tossed and turned so much, she gave up and came back downstairs and decided to call her sister.

“Hey,” Remy whispered into the phone. “Everything alright?”

Meredith could hear instrumental music playing in the background. Was she interrupting something?

“Sorry, is this a bad time?” she asked. Was her sister having a party?

“Joe’s having a small thing at the house,” she said.

Meredith could feel the pang of not being included. Did her sister not invite her to their fancy parties anymore because she didn’t have a husband to bring? Or was it Phillip who they enjoyed? Was a divorced housewife who taught piano lessons not good enough for Remy’s high society friends?

“I can let you go,” Meredith said.

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