Vaterfreuden

Jamie offered to show Greta Diamondwave around the ranch. He had no idea who she really was.

Jamie: “Gillian’s out at the moment, but she should be back soon. I’ll show you around in the meantime.”

Greta: “I’d love that. If I’d known the ranch had such charming and handsome staff, I would have come much sooner.”

When I returned, I found Jamie and a very elegant woman sitting in the lounge, drinking coffee and laughing together.

Gillian: “Jamie!!! Oh — I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

Jamie: “Gillian, this is Greta Diamondwave. She’s not here for me — she came all the way from New York to see you.”

So this was her. Greta Diamondwave. George’s daughter. I hadn’t expected her so soon. And now she stood there, looking like a movie star, telling me how happy she was to finally meet me — while Jamie practically had hearts in his eyes, enjoying coffee and conversation. This was the woman who was about to turn my entire life upside down. I suggested we continue the conversation inside the house.

Greta: “My mother kept silent for over forty years about who my father was. When I went through her estate, I found pictures from her vacation on Jorvik — and her notes. When I learned that George had passed away, I was devastated. I never had the chance to meet him.”

She showed me photographs. Her mother and George together. They had known each other — and from that summer romance, Greta had been born. Her mother had never told George about the child. But then… why hadn’t Jakob said anything? He appeared in some of the pictures too — casting very telling glances at Greta’s mother. George had always been shy. Still waters run deep, they say. There seemed to be no doubt. Greta was George’s daughter. She had already scheduled an appointment with a notary for the next day. And just like that, I was about to lose Meadowland — and everything I loved. The meeting with the notary took place at the town hall in Silverglade Village. All documents were read aloud. Only the signatures were missing.

Notary: “Ladies, you have understood the contents of the document. We will now proceed with signing.”

Suddenly, the doors burst open.

Claire: “Stop! Nothing is being signed yet. I found one of George’s diaries. He wrote about the summer of 1984 — when Ms. Diamondwave’s mother was here. George was not Greta’s father!”

She read from the diary: “The summer of 1984 was one of the best of my life. Jakob and I met Hilda Diamondwave, a breathtakingly beautiful American, in Fort Pinta. I liked her very much and believed the feeling was mutual. We had so much fun. We met every day. But then it happened again. Jakob slowly pushed himself into the foreground. The fact that he was married didn’t seem to bother him. The two of them spent more and more time alone — and suddenly I was out. If only I had been braver. Once again, I was the one left behind. I should have told Jakob’s wife…” Claire hadn’t been able to let it go. She had searched the basement again and found another hidden box — filled with George’s diaries. I threw my arms around her. I would never have kept searching. Greta wasn’t George’s daughter. She was Jakob Goldspur’s. Now it made sense why Jakob’s wife had left him back then. Greta was horrified — apologizing over and over. But her shock slowly turned into something else when we told her that Jakob Goldspur was still alive. Outside the town hall—

Greta: “Gillian, I’m so sorry for the chaos I caused. I was so sure it was George. Will you still come with me tomorrow to see Jakob?”

Gillian: “Yes. And Claire — you’re my hero. Without you, I would have lost everything today. And Greta would never have met her real father. We have to celebrate this.”

The next day, Claire and I accompanied Greta to the Goldspur Mill.

Jakob: “Oh my… such lovely ladies visiting me. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Greta: “Daddy!!! I’m so happy to finally meet you!”

For a moment, Claire and I thought Jakob might faint on the spot. He didn’t. But it was obvious how uncomfortable he felt. We quietly left them alone. Father and daughter had a lot to talk about. And I still had something to tell Jamie — who knew absolutely nothing about all of this. I found him in the tack room.

Jamie: “Oh, it’s just you, Gillian. Where did you leave beautiful Greta? Ha ha — just kidding. The jealousy was written all over your face last time.”

Idiot. But I told him everything anyway.