“Your daddy’s a dear man, Meg,” she said mysteriously. “I know you want him to be happy, dear.”
When he finally told her, the words were said so quietly that Meg almost missed them. “Kathy Larsen and I love each other, Meggie. We plan to get married, and we hope you and Bill are going to approve. After you have time to get used to the idea, that is.”
No thunder overhead. No earth-rumbling below. Just two people in a gently rocking boat, and an eagle circling over the nearest shore. Meg kept her eyes on the eagle till it settled into the highest branches of a pine tree. Then she looked at her father. In spite of his casual tone, there were little drops of perspiration on his forehead.
“We’ll still be a family, kiddo. It’ll be a bigger family, that’s all.”
“It won’t be the same,” Meg said. “You and Mama and Bill and me—”
Her father leaned forward. “I couldn’t make your mother happy—you have to admit that, Meg. I’m very lucky to find a wonderful person like Kathy who’s willing to take me the way I am. She hasn’t wanted to set a wedding date till now, mostly because she’s worried about Caleb. But now that you kids found that ring—well, she thinks Caleb’s going to be okay.” He reeled in his line, inspected the worm, and threw it out again. “Well, what do you say? About our getting married?”
“I guess it’ll be all right,” Meg answered painfully. “I mean, if that’s what you want. Mrs.—Kathy—is nice.”
“Great!” Her father mopped his face. “Wonderful! How will Bill take it?”
“He won’t mind as much as I do.” Meg knew that was true. Last night, thinking over what she and Caleb had discussed on the way home from the museum, she’d realized that Bill knew a lot about keeping himself separate. Rhoda did, too. Now Meg had to learn how to do it.
“What are you thinking about?” her father asked anxiously. “Let your old man in on it.”
“I was thinking, the last time we went fishing I was sure you were going to tell me about getting married. This time I didn’t expect it.”
Mr. Korshak looked stunned. “Last time! You mean you guessed how things were with Kathy and me?”
“Sort of. Granny Tate knows, too. I think she even guessed you were going to tell me about it today.”
“She’s a wise old girl. Kathy confides in her, and she knows that finding the ring makes this a lot easier for us.” Meg’s father leaned back and stretched his legs as far as the little boat would permit. “I feel great,” he said softly. “Grandma Korshak’s okay, and you’re not upset about anything. Are you, Meg? How do you feel?”
“I’m glad you told me,” Meg said. “Not knowing is the worst thing.” She would have liked to talk about that some more, but her father was too excited to listen.
“Kathy likes you a lot, Meggie. In fact, she thinks you’re terrific. We want you and Bill to come to Trevor for the wedding this fall. You will, won’t you?”
The wedding. Her father marrying someone else. The absolutely final end to life the way it used to be.
“If you come for the wedding, Kathy wants to make you a dress,” he coaxed. “She’s a great seamstress, you know. She even showed me the material she’ll use if you like it—beautiful stuff she’s been saving for the right occasion.”
“Yellow material?” It was easier to think about the dress than about the wedding.
“Right!” He raised his eyebrows. “My daughter the mind reader.”
“I like yellow.”
She could have told him that Grandma Korshak had seen the dress in a dream—a real dream—but she knew he didn’t want or need an explanation. He just wanted Meg to be as happy as he was at this minute.
Tonight, she thought, she’d write long letters to Bill and to Rhoda, telling them everything that had happened in the last two days.
After that, she’d write to Grandma Korshak and tell her that it looked as if their secret windows were still working very well indeed.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1987 by Betty Ren Wright
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1340-6
Holiday House
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This 2015 edition distributed by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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BETTY REN WRIGHT
FROM HOLIDAY HOUSE
AND OPEN ROAD MEDIA
In Holiday House: The First Sixty-Five Years (2000), Russell Freedman and Barbara Elleman describe the early days of the publishing house, which was founded in New York City:
In 1935, a new firm called Holiday House set up three desks in the corner of a printing plant and prepared to publish its first list of books. “The event was unique in at least one respect,” Publishers Weekly would say. “The new company was the first American publishing house ever founded with the purpose of publishing nothing but children’s books.”
The first of its kind, then—a specialized publisher with a unique program and a diminutive catalog, small enough to fit in a child’s palm. The catalog announced five books, three nursery rhyme broadsides, and the publisher’s intentions: “… Its editorial policy embraces only such books as are worthy of inclusion in a child’s permanent library.”
And so began our history. Holiday House “has changed over the years, sometimes by design and sometimes not. And it will continue to evolve and adapt. Yet in many ways it remains the same old place: relatively small, very independent, and completely devoted to its authors and illustrators.”
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