Familienbande

When I opened the mail that morning, I almost collapsed. It was a letter addressed to me — from a law firm called Baur & Green in New York. Letter: “Dear Ms. Meadowland, Our client, Ms. Greta Diamondwave, born August 17, 1985 in New York, as the biological daughter of the deceased George Meadowland, hereby asserts ownership claims to: Meadowland Ranch 158/1-17 in the Firgrove area. Ms. Diamondwave will travel to Jorvik within the next few days. We have instructed our colleagues in Silverglade to handle the legal proceedings. Our client will contact you to arrange an appointment. Sincerely, Charles Green (Attorney-at-law)”

Gillian: “Oh my God… I need to call my parents immediately. And I have to speak to Esmeralda.”

I went straight to Esmeralda.

Esmeralda: “George… a child?! That would be news to me. Neither he nor his sister ever mentioned anything like that — and she definitely would have. You know we were very close friends. Try the town hall in Jarlaheim. Or Jakob Goldspur — George was friends with him.”

I tried the town hall first. Nothing.

Gillian: “Well, my little one… no records of any children here. Let’s visit Jakob Goldspur. If anyone knew Uncle George well, it was him.”

At the Goldspur Mill—

Gillian: “…Esmeralda thought you might know something.”

Jakob: “Ha! Old George, a child?! That’s a joke. He was afraid of women. He adored his nephew — but he moved away. Maybe Dorith Jarlasson knows something. George and a child… ha!”

He told me where to find Dorith.

Dorith: “Jakob sent you? I’ve never heard that George had a child. But there was once a young American tourist who spent a summer here… Diamondwave, I think that was her name. Jakob and George were practically glued to her. But a child…?”

Diamondwave. That was the name in the lawyer’s letter. I had to talk to Claire. At the Jorvik stables—

Gillian: “Claire… something happened. I received a letter today. I’m desperate. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Claire: “There must still be documents and papers from George somewhere. I’ll come over later and we’ll search through everything.”

Claire was just as shocked as I was. She loved Meadowland too. We had already made plans — ideas to do even more for the horses. A physiotherapy area. Workshops. Events to raise funds. Now those dreams felt like they were shattering. In the basement, I found countless boxes labeled with George’s name.

Gillian: “Oh wow… this looks like a lifetime of paperwork.”

We searched until the early hours of the morning. Box after box. Document after document. Nothing. Not a single letter. Not a photo. Not one word about a child.

Gillian: “I don’t know what to do anymore. There’s nothing. I’m so tired… I don’t even have the strength left.”

Claire: “I’m so sorry, Gillian. We still have a little time before this woman shows up. Let’s not lose hope just yet.”

I called my parents again. They offered for me to come to Canada. But I didn’t want to leave. Not Meadowland. Not my friends. Not Jamie. The next afternoon, a red sports car drove onto the yard. I was in Silverglade Village. Jamie welcomed the visitor.

Jamie: “Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to Meadowland. Can I help you with anything?”

Visitor: “Oh, good morning, young man. I’m Greta Diamondwave. I’m looking for Gillian Meadowland.”