Samantha Moss

Midsummer Inheritance

The midsummer sun sat at just the right angle to make it impossible to find Anders. Turning away, I scanned the handful of people gathered in the shadows of the cabins that lined the beach. No Anders. He wasn’t the old man in a pilling wool sweater I’d imagined when AncesTree called to tell me I had won the Heritage Sweepstakes, but he wasn’t a stereotypical tall, bright-blonde Scandinavian either. He had dark loose waves and glacial blue eyes, stood almost nose-to-nose with me, and was guiding me through Norway on a month-long trip through my mother’s homeland. All I’d had to do was spit in a tube and send it off. Best case, in my mind, I’d win $10,000 and a personal genealogist. Worst case, I’d have my ancestry mapped. Maybe I’d find some relatives on my mom’s side. Maybe even learn my mother’s name. For only the price of a DNA kit, I figured it was worth it. Turns out it was.