Louisa Jacobson, the daughter of famous actress Meryl Streep, has publicly come out as queer. She shared the happy news on Instagram with a photo of herself and her partner, which made fans and social media users very excited.
The 33-year-old actress, known for her role in “The Gilded Age,” posted pictures with her partner, Anna Blundell, on June 22. This date was special because it was both her mother’s birthday and during Pride Month.
In her post, Jacobson shared how happy she felt, writing, “blessed to be entering the Joyful New Era bb.” Her caption referred to a recent New York Times article called “We’re Entering a Joyful New Era of Lesbian Fashion.”
Support for Jacobson’s announcement flooded social media. Blogger Sky Maddas praised her choice of timing, saying, “COMING OUT AT YOUR MOM’S BIRTHDAY IS SO ICONIC.”
Socialite Derek Blasberg also joined in with a happy “Happy Pride.” Fans left encouraging comments like “omg so happy for you!” and “We’ll support you in every era kiddo!”
Earlier in June, Jacobson gave hints about her relationship by sharing ten photos on Instagram that showed her close bond with Blundell. One photo showed them taking a mirror selfie in an elevator, both wearing matching black outfits.
Another photo featured Blundell, wearing an “ITALIA” hat, kissing Jacobson’s cheek. Jacobson, in orange-tinted sunglasses and a grey denim jacket, looked happy.
One more photo showed them holding hands while walking down the street, both in denim and black long-sleeve outfits.
In the final photo, they stood in a living room, each holding a drink and looking towards a table outside where a child was sitting alone. Jacobson captioned the post, “Cute spring things.”
Even though Jacobson has come out publicly, she has kept her romantic life mostly private. She has shared photos with Blundell, but Blundell has only posted about their relationship once on Instagram.
On December 15, 2023, Blundell, a producer, posted a similar photo with the caption “Annual update,” showing herself looking away while Jacobson smiled at the camera under red light.
Jacobson’s new relationship is similar to her mother’s romantic life. After separating from her long-time husband, Streep was rumored to be dating one of her “Only Murders in the Building” co-stars last March after their appearance at the Golden Globes.
Before the recent rumors, Meryl Streep had been married to Don Gummer for 45 years. They got married in September 1978 after knowing each other for less than a year. They met through Streep’s brother, Harry.
Now, Streep and Gummer are separated. In 2023, a spokesperson for Streep revealed that they had been living apart for more than six years. The last time they were seen together was at the 2018 Oscars.
The spokesperson said that even though Streep and Gummer still care about each other, they have decided to live separate lives.
After their split, there have been rumors that Streep might be involved with her co-star from “Only Murders in the Building,” Martin Short. The rumors started when they were seen together at the 81st Annual Golden Globes.
At the event, Streep and Short were sitting with Selena Gomez, their co-star. All three were nominated for their roles, which added to Streep’s record as the most-nominated actor in Golden Globes history.
Fans noticed the chemistry between Streep and Short and began speculating on social media about whether they might be a couple. One fan said, “Sitting with the knowledge that Meryl Streep and Martin Short might be in love but I have no proof.”
Fans thought that if Streep and Short were dating, it would be a big deal. “If Martin Short and Meryl Streep are dating, that’s the biggest power couple going,” one fan said. Another fan added, “Martin Short and Meryl Streep — be the power couple of 2024 we all need if you aren’t already.”
Like Streep, Short was also in a long-term marriage. He married his wife, Nancy Dolman, in 1980, and they were together until she passed away in 2010.
Dolman died of natural causes after Short called 911 from their Los Angeles home. They had been married for 30 years and had three children: Oliver, Henry, and Katherine.
Reports said Dolman had been battling ovarian cancer since 2007. In 2019, Short talked about his marriage and losing his wife, calling it “a triumph.” He said he still feels connected to her and seeks her guidance on decisions, especially about their children. He believes that those who have passed away continue to have an impact on their loved ones.
Short explained, “This idea that it just ends, and don’t speak of them — that’s wrong. That’s based on denial that we’re all going to die. So to me, she’s still here.” Losing his wife also led him to embrace risk-taking.
The Canadian-born actor doesn’t believe in bucket lists, focusing instead on daily happiness. He keeps a list of categories like health and career, periodically giving himself a report card to identify areas for improvement.
Short reminisced about a childhood question: “What is the most important thing in life?” His response was simple yet profound: “To be happy.” For Short, part of that happiness comes from being helpful to the people he loves. “That’s what takes you from day to day,” he added.
Now, fans speculate whether Streep is one of the people Short loves. Rumors of a romance between them intensified after they were seen together at the 2024 AFI Luncheon.
Moreover, Streep and Short’s characters in “Only Murders in the Building” fell in love during the third season of the Hulu comedy. Fans have noted their great on-screen chemistry. “Only Murders in the Building” is a collaborative creation by Steve Martin and John Hoffman.
Hoffman shared that Streep expressed gratitude to him for crafting the romantic storyline involving her and Short’s characters in the series, noting their incredible on-screen connection. In season three, episode five, Streep and Short’s characters share a date on a ferry overlooking New York City.
Hoffman recalled Streep’s fondness for the ferry location, ranking it among her top two favorite filming sites. “It was the most magical night of shooting, and they were completely beyond wonderful together,” Hoffman remarked about the scene and the chemistry between Streep and Short.
Besides their on-screen chemistry, Streep and Short have been enjoying their time together off-screen. On February 21, 2023, the pair had dinner with friends at Giorgio Baldi in Santa Monica, California.
For their outing, Streep wore black pants with a hot pink button-down shirt and a red jacket. Short wore a gray sweater and a black blazer.
An insider shared details about their dinner. The source said, “They were really enjoying their meal and having a blast the whole time,” mentioning there was “lots of laughing” and that the group “couldn’t have been having a better time.”
Despite their close friendship, Short has denied any romantic relationship with Streep. In a January 2024 interview, Short said, “We are not a couple; we are just very good friends.”
Both Streep and her daughter Jacobson are moving on to new phases in their lives. Jacobson is in a new relationship with Blundell, and Streep is enjoying her close friendship with Short. They are both embracing these new chapters with love and support.
Our Late Father Left Me Only an Apiary While My Sister Took the House and Shut Me Out, but One Beehive Hid a Game-Changing Secret — Story of the Day
I lost everything in one day—my job, my home, and then my father. At his will reading, my sister took the house and shut me out. I was left with nothing but an old apiary… and a secret I never saw coming.
Routine. That was the foundation of my life. I stocked shelves, greeted customers with a polite smile, and memorized who always bought which brand of cereal or how often they ran out of milk.
At the end of every shift, I counted my wages, setting aside a little each week without a clear purpose. It was more a habit than a plan.
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And then, in a single day, everything crumbled like a dry cookie between careless fingers.
“We’re making cuts, Adele,” my manager said. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t wait for a response. There was nothing to discuss. I took off my name tag and placed it on the counter.
I walked home silently, but as soon as I reached my apartment building, something felt off. The front door was unlocked, and a faint trace of unfamiliar female perfume lingered in the air.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
My boyfriend, Ethan, stood beside my suitcase in the living room.
“Oh, you’re home. We need to talk.”
“I am listening.”
“Adele, you’re a great person, really. But I feel like I’m… evolving. And you’re just… staying the same.”
“Oh, I see,” I muttered.
“I need someone who pushes me to be better,” he added, glancing toward the window.
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That “someone” was currently waiting outside in his car.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I picked up my suitcase and walked out. The city felt enormous, and suddenly, I had nowhere to go. Then my phone rang.
“I’m calling about Mr. Howard. I’m very sorry, but he has passed away.”
Mr. Howard. That’s what they called him. But to me, he was Dad. And just like that, my route was set.
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In half an hour, I bought a bus ticket and left the city behind, heading to the place where my childhood had been rewritten. Howard had never been my father by blood. He had been my father by choice.
When I was almost grown, after years of drifting through foster care, he and my adoptive mother took me in. I wasn’t a cute, wide-eyed toddler who would easily mold into a family. I was a teenager.
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But they loved me anyway. They taught me what home felt like. And finally, that home was gone. My mother had passed away a year ago. And then… my father had followed.
I was an orphan again.
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***
The funeral service was quiet. I stood in the back, too consumed by grief to acknowledge the sharp glances my adoptive sister, Synthia, kept throwing my way. She wasn’t happy I was еhere, but I didn’t care.
After the service, I went straight to the lawyer’s office, expecting nothing more than a few tools from Dad’s garage, something small to remember him by.
The lawyer unfolded the will.
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“As per the last testament of Mr. Howard, his residence, including all belongings within, is to be inherited by his biological daughter, Synthia Howard.”
Synthia smirked as if she had just won something she always knew was hers. Then, the lawyer continued.
“The apiary, including all its contents, is hereby granted to my other daughter Adele.”
“Excuse me?”
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“The beekeeping estate,” the lawyer repeated. “As per Mr. Howard’s request, Adele is to take ownership of the land, its hives, and any proceeds from future honey production. Furthermore, she has the right to reside on the property as long as she maintains and cares for the beekeeping operation.”
Synthia let out a short, bitter laugh.
“You’re joking.”
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“It’s all outlined in the document.” The lawyer held up the papers.
Synthia’s gaze sliced through me. “You? Taking care of bees? You don’t even know how to keep a houseplant alive, let alone an entire apiary.”
“It’s what Dad wanted,” I said finally, though my voice lacked conviction.
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“Fine. You want to stay? You can have your damn bees. But don’t think you’re moving into the house.”
“What?”
“The house is mine, Adele. You want to live on this property? Then you’ll take what you’ve been given.”
A slow dread crept into my stomach.
“And where exactly do you expect me to sleep?”
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“There’s a perfectly good barn out back. Consider it part of your new rustic lifestyle.”
I could have fought her. Could have argued. But I had nowhere else to go. I had lost my job. My life. My father. And even though I was supposed to have a place there, I was treated like a stranger.
“Fine.”
Synthia let out another laugh, standing up and grabbing her purse.
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“Well, I hope you like the smell of hay.”
That evening, I carried my bag toward the barn. The scent of dry hay and earth greeted me as I stepped inside. Somewhere outside, chickens clucked, settling in for the night.
The sounds of the farm surrounded me. I found a corner, dropped my bag, and sank onto the straw.
The tears came silently, hot streaks against my cheeks. I had nothing left. But I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to stay. I was going to fight.
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***
The nights were still cold, even as spring stretched its fingers across the land. So, in the morning, I walked into town and spent the last of my savings on a small tent. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
When I arrived back at the estate, dragging the box behind me, Synthia was standing on the porch. She watched as I unpacked the metal rods and fabric, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“This is hilarious,” she said, leaning against the wooden railing. “You’re really doing this? Playing the rugged farm girl now?”
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I ignored her and continued setting up.
I remembered the camping trips I used to take with Dad: how he had shown me how to build a fire pit, set up a proper shelter, and store food safely outdoors. Those memories fueled me at that moment.
I gathered stones from the edge of the property and built a small fire ring. I set up a simple outdoor cooking area using an old iron grate I found in the barn. It wasn’t a house. But it was a home.
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Synthia, watching the whole time, shook her head.
“Springtime camping is one thing, Adele. But what’s your plan when it gets colder?”
I didn’t take the bait. I had bigger things to worry about.
That afternoon, I met Greg, the beekeeper my father had worked with for years. I had been told he was the one who had maintained the apiary after Dad passed, but I hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet.
Greg was standing by the hives when I approached. He frowned when he saw me.
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“Oh, it’s you.”
“I need your help,” I said, straight to the point. “I want to learn how to keep the bees.”
Greg let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You?”
He eyed me up and down, taking in my entire existence that screamed city girl.
“No offense, but do you even know how to approach a hive without getting stung to death?”
I straightened my shoulders. “Not yet. But I’m willing to learn.”
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“Yeah? And what makes you think you’ll last?”
I could feel Synthia’s voice echoing in my head, her constant sneers, her dismissive laughter.
“Because I don’t have a choice.”
Greg, to my surprise, let out a low chuckle.
“Alright, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
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Learning was harder than I had expected.
I had to get past my fear of the bees first—the way they swarmed, the low hum of their bodies vibrating through the air. The first time I put on the protective suit, my hands trembled so badly that Greg had to redo the straps for me.
“Relax,” Greg said. “They can sense fear.”
“Great. Just what I needed.”
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He laughed at that.
“If you don’t want them to sting you, don’t act like prey.”
Over the next few weeks, Greg taught me everything: how to install foundation sheets into the frames, inspect a hive without disturbing the colony, and spot the queen among thousands of identical bees.
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Some days, I was exhausted before noon. My body ached from carrying the heavy frames. I smelled like smoke and sweat and earth. And yet, I had a purpose.
That evening, the air smelled wrong.
I had just stepped onto the property, my arms full of groceries, when a sharp, acrid scent curled into my nostrils.
Smoke. Oh, no! My beehives…
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***
The fire was raging, orange tongues licking at the darkening sky. Flames crawled over the dry grass, consuming everything in their path.
My tent was in ruins, its fabric curling and melting under the heat. The fire had devoured everything inside—my clothes, bedding, the last remnants of what I had managed to build for myself.
But my eyes locked on the beehives.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
They were close to the flames, the thick smoke drifting in their direction. If the fire reached them…
No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I grabbed a bucket beside the well and ran toward the fire, but…
“Adele! Get back!”
Greg.
I turned to see him sprinting across the field. A second later, others followed—neighbors, local farmers, even the older man from the general store. They carried shovels, buckets, and anything they could find.
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I barely had time to process what was happening before they moved into action.
“Get the sand!” Greg barked.
And I realized some people were dragging heavy sacks of dry dirt from the barn. They tore them open and started smothering the fire, throwing sand over the flames, cutting off their air.
My lungs burned from the smoke, but I kept going. We worked together until the flames finally died.
I turned toward the house. Synthia stood on the balcony, watching.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
She hadn’t lifted a single finger to help. I turned away.
The beehives were safe. But my home was gone.
Greg approached, wiping the soot from his forehead. His gaze drifted toward the window where Synthia had stood just moments ago.
“Kid, you don’t have the safest neighborhood. I’d recommend harvesting that honey sooner rather than later.”
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We washed our hands, shook off the exhaustion, and, without another word, got to work.
I lifted the wooden frame from the hive, brushing off the few bees still crawling across the surface. The combs were full, golden, glistening in the soft evening light.
And then I saw it. A small, yellowed envelope was wedged between the wax panels. My breath caught. Carefully, I pulled it free and read the words scrawled across the front.
“For Adele.”
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I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. Inside, folded neatly, was a second will. That was the actual will. I began to read.
“My dearest Adele,
If you are reading this, then you have done exactly what I hoped—you stayed. You fought. You proved, not to me, but to yourself, that you are stronger than anyone ever gave you credit for.
I wanted to leave you this home openly, but I knew I wouldn’t get the chance. Synthia would never allow it. She has always believed that blood is the only thing that makes a family. But you and I both know better.
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I didn’t have time to file this will officially, but I knew exactly where to place it—somewhere only you would find it. I hid it in the very thing she despises most, the one thing she would never touch. I knew that if you chose to stay and see this through, you would earn what was always meant to be yours.
Adele, this house was never just walls and a roof—it was a promise. A promise that you could always have a place where you belong.
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As my final wish, I leave you everything. The house, the land, the beekeeping estate—everything now belongs to you. Make it a home. Make it yours.
With all my love,
Dad”
The house had always been mine.
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That evening, when Greg and I finished harvesting the honey, I walked up the house’s front steps for the first time. Synthia sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea. I placed the will on the table in front of her.
“Where did you get this?” she asked after reading.
“Dad hid it in the beehives. He knew you’d try to take everything, so he ensured you wouldn’t find it.”
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For the first time since I arrived, she had nothing to say.
“You can stay,” I said, and she looked up at me, startled. “But we run this place together. We either learn to live like a family or don’t live here at all.”
Synthia scoffed, setting the will down. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
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Then, finally, she leaned back in her chair, exhaling a slow, tired laugh.
“Fine. But I’m not touching the damn bees.”
“Deal.”
The days passed, and life slowly took shape. I sold my first jars of honey, watching my hard work finally pay off. Synthia took care of the house, keeping it in order while I tended to the bees. And Greg became a friend, someone to sit with on the porch at sunset, sharing quiet moments and stories about the day.
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Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When I told my husband I was pregnant, he froze. When he saw the ultrasound, he panicked. The following day, he was gone—no calls, no trace. But I wasn’t about to just let him disappear. I needed answers… and payback.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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