Page 32 of The Cottage on Blueberry Bay

“Hi, Dad,” she said, grateful he had called.

“Hey, sugarplum. How’s it going up there?”

“Good, good,” she said, looking around and wondering how much she could tell him. “When was the last time you came to Blueberry Bay?”

“Not since your mother and I were first married,” he said, he stayed quiet for a second. “I remember it’s gorgeous.”

She looked out at the endless blue sky. “It is that.”

Should she tell him about the statue?

“What a nice way to start your summer break,” he said, with the same enthusiasm as if she were headed on a tropical vacation and not going through her dead biological father’s house. “That’s one beautiful spot, but are you sure you want to stay there tonight, all alone? I could leave now and make it up before it gets dark.”

She checked the time. He would just barely make it.

“No, Dad. Thanks, I’ll be okay,” she lied.

If she could ask for anyone to come and figure this whole situation out, it would be the one person she couldn’t have. Her mother would’ve turned this whole situation into an adventure. Even when they had lived in a one-room studio, broke, with barely any furniture, she had made it cool to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag.

Then Jacqueline ran into Gordon, and the rest, they say, was history.

“It’s just weird, that’s all.” Meredith paused as a wave broke against the shore. “His lawyer is helping me clean the place tonight.”

She looked through the kitchen window and saw Quinn jump from his chair and rush to the front door. He swung the door open quickly, then dashed out. Meredith watched as Quinn met a woman standing in the field of blueberries with a wicker basket in her hand. They kept looking back at the house and pointing.

“Hey, Dad, can I let you go?” she said. “I’ll call you back when I have a free minute.”

“Sure thing, sugarplum,” he said. “But do me a favor, will you?”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Use this as a way to reevaluate,” Gordon said. “You don’t have to rush out of there, you know?”

Meredith stared out at the front yard at the interaction between Quinn and the newcomer. The two of them were deep in a heavy conversation, hands moving, basket being used for dramatics. Whatever they were talking about, the woman wasn’t having it.

“I will, Dad,” she said.

Meredith stood watching the exchange, wondering if she should go back inside or see what was going on, when the woman saw her and began to wave.

Quinn’s hand went to the top of his head, his face horrified, and Meredith gave a slight wave back.

Who the heck was this woman?

“Excuse me!” the woman called out, using her free hand to magnify her voice. “Excuse me, Ms. Johnson! Jacob’s daughter!”

Meredith stood stock-still. She couldn’t very well ignore the woman who stood there pointing at her, knowing her somehow but not knowing her enough to know her actual name.

Meredith thought about ducking around the corner, pretending she didn’t see her, but she didn’t move quickly enough these days.

“Hello, Meredith!” she called out.

Meredith looked at Quinn, who had obviously told this wild woman her name.

She took a deep breath and stepped off the porch to meet her.

“My name is Hazel,” she said, holding onto the basket. “I’ve been picking blueberries here since I was a little girl.”

She smiled at Meredith. The basket appeared empty.

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