Page 83 of The Cottage on Blueberry Bay

“I want to check this restaurant out with you.”

“Can’t we do it on a weekend?”

“What do you have to do?” he had snapped at her.

The bite in his voice had made her pause, and then she’d answered, “Sure, okay.”

And like walking into a haunted house, not knowing danger had lurked in the shadows, she’d met Phillip at the new restaurant.

“But first.” Remy pulled out the blender and said, “How about a blueberry margarita?”

“Or we could open that bottle of wine?” Meredith pointed to the newest and most curious blueberry item of all—blueberry wine.

“Let’s do it,” Remy said, putting the blender back.

She went to the cabinet and grabbed two mason jars they had been using as their wineglasses, threw in some frozen blueberries from the freezer, and passed the glass to Remy.

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Remy said as she poured the wine into the glasses.

Remy picked up the first glass and held it up to Meredith. “To second chances.”

Meredith held up her glass, and an idea popped into her mind. “Invite him here.”

“What?” Remy said, holding her glass steady.

“Invite Joe up here,” Meredith said. “Have him see the cottage and spend time together. Just the two of you.”

“Where are you going to be?” Remy asked, surprised.

“I should go back to Andover for a bit,” Meredith said. “See how my pool’s doing. Check in with Dad. I haven’t been there in weeks.”

Remy thought about it for a second and then tapped Meredith’s glass again. “Alright, I will.”

Meredith tapped her glass against Remy’s, hoping she’d take her advice. Maybe they just needed a new place to figure things out.

Remy picked up her phone. “Would you mind if I called him?”

Meredith shook her head. “Of course not. Go.” She gestured toward the porch.

“I can work on things upstairs,” she said.

Remy started dialing but then stopped. “Thank you, Mer.”

Meredith waved off her thanks. “No need. You would’ve done the same for me.”

Remy shrugged. “I didn’t though. I should have come to you and helped you through your divorce. I’m sorry about that.”

“You had enough going on,” Meredith said. “Let’s not worry about all that happened. Let’s figure out what’s going to happen next instead.”

Remy took a long breath, her chest expanding. “You’re right.”

Remy opened the screen door and went out on the porch. Meredith shut the door behind her to give her some privacy.

As Meredith cut through the dining room, she stopped in front of the piano, right in center position. She used her thumb to slowly lift the fallboard, letting the white keys peek out. Gently, she folded the cover over, exposing the bottoms of the eighty-eight keys. With a soft tap of her right thumb, she pressed down center C. The key’s pitch was perfect.

She glanced back into the kitchen, looking out the window and seeing Remy’s head walking back and forth.

She opened the fallboard fully and placed her hands into position above the keys, memories of her dying mother flooding her head. She closed her eyes, and that’s when she remembered her first recital, or at least one of the very first. She wore a daisy-yellow sundress, just like the fabric that sat in the sewing room, with her hair done in pigtails. She dressed the part to perform “You Are My Sunshine” as her song.

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