“You might be right. Anyway, I was at the spa today. I didn’t think I’d like it, but it was kind of fun. And don’t I smell great?” She offered her forearm to Vivian, who frowned and turned her head away. “Well. I smell great, take my word.”
Sitting down next to Vivian, she sighed. The spa had been fun, but now she had to see her parents and the thought of the letter from her birth mother burned in her mind.
“What’s the matter with you?” the old lady asked. She’d gone psychic, apparently.
Posey hesitated. “Did anyone in your family ever keep a secret from you?”
“Of course. It’s the nature of families. Why?”
“I don’t know.” She paused. “Why didn’t you and your husband ever adopt, Viv?”
“Aren’t we personal,” Vivian murmured.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’m aware of that.” Vivian gave her a lethal look, then turned her face away. “Ernest was against it,” she said eventually. “I wouldn’t have minded, but he was a bit of an ass about the subject. Anyway. It’s your birthday, if I recall.”
“How did you know?” Posey asked.
“A little bird who won’t stop talking told me. That girl needs finishing school. You both do. Here.” She handed Posey a box.
Well, knock her over with a feather. Vivian Appleton was not a sentimental person. In all the time Posey had known her, she had never given a compliment, let alone a gift. “Are you dying, Viv?” Posey said.
“We’re all dying. Open it.”
“This is so sweet. Thank you!”
“Thank me when you open it,” the old lady said, sitting a little straighter.
Posey untied the ribbons. “It’s the thought that counts.”
“I never believed that expression, did you?”
Posey laughed and opened the box. Her breath caught. “Oh, Vivian! It’s beautiful!”
It was an antique butterfly pin, wings sparkling with tiny, multicolored crystal beads. The butterfly’s body was gold, and it seemed to be smiling, the black jeweled eyes glittering.
“It’s not worth much,” Vivian said, looking away. “But it was mine when I was a girl. My aunt gave it to me for my tenth birthday. It reminded me of you.”
So uncharacteristic, all this thoughtfulness! “I love it.” Posey fastened it to her dress, then leaned over and kissed Vivian’s soft, withered cheek. “Thank you, Viv.”
The old lady stared straight ahead. “I signed with Down East Salvage this morning.”
The words hit Posey like a slap. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Down East Salvage? The thought of The Meadows being taken down was horrible enough…but those gorillas at Down East…how could— They wouldn’t— Oh, bieber, she was going to cry. Realizing that her mouth was still open, she closed it and sat back against the couch so she wouldn’t have to look at Vivian.
“They offered me ten thousand more than you did,” Vivian said, her tone brisk. “It would’ve been foolish not to take it.”
Posey’s throat was too tight to answer.
“I have the right to dispose of my property as I see fit, Posey,” Viv snapped. “I have my nieces and nephews to think of, you know, and they wouldn’t appreciate me—”
“It’s okay,” she said, taking Vivian’s hand. If she looked at the old lady now, she’d start bawling. “I understand.” She bit her lip to control the trembling of her mouth.
How could Viv’s Vultures just…erase a place like The Meadows? Pretend it never happened and slap up a bevy of soulless McMansions, and that gracious, beautiful house, built in the time of Mark Twain and parasols, of lemonade on the porch in the summer and sleigh bells on harnesses in the winter, would be gone.
Down East Salvage would strip the house down in days. Posey had seen them work—they used chainsaws, for the love of Elvis, and backhoes. Those beautiful gardens would be torn up, thousands of bulbs and plants crushed or thrown away. Down East would cut down the elm tree, she’d bet her life they would, never mind that it was three hundred years old. They would desecrate the entire place. They didn’t love The Meadows the way she did. They hadn’t been there twice a week for the past two years. They hadn’t made love out by the pine trees.
Posey would’ve taken months with that house. She and Mac would’ve lovingly removed every feature, from the marble fireplace in the dining room to the copper tub on the third floor. She would’ve cut out the lead-paned windows with her sharpest, smallest saw and coaxed them from the walls. Every doorknob, every light-switch plate, every heating grate would’ve been wrapped carefully until Posey found them new homes, where they’d be loved and appreciated. And when the beautiful shell of the house finally had to come down, Posey would’ve stood guard until it was done and paid her last respects.
Down East would use Dumpsters. They’d hire high-school kids, and they’d throw things out the windows into Dumpsters. She’d seen it happen on their job sites before.
“I have to get going,” Posey said when she could trust her voice.
“Yes. You have a birthday engagement, I suppose,” Vivian said.
“Dinner with my family.” She swallowed. “Thank you for the pin. It’s beautiful.”
“Go. You’ll be late, and it’s so inconsiderate.” With that, Vivian fished out her phone and began texting.
Posey tried not to think about The Meadows on the drive to her parents’ house.
But it was hard.
The whole week had been hard. She hadn’t seen her parents since learning about the letter.
Max and Stacia had always given all the right lip service on the rare occasions that the subject of birth parents came up. But Posey knew. If she’d ever said, “Hey, I’d like to find my birth parents,” they’d take it like a knife in the heart. Who, after all, had done the real work of parenting, staying up when Posey was sick, helping her with her science homework, taking such pride in her depiction of the turnip in Farmer Smith’s garden?
So she’d done nothing about the letter, aside from telling Liam. And, it must be acknowledged, Liam had been incredible. All that upset, all that churning, and he’d somehow made her feel…happy.
It was too bad about the run-in with the Tates. She wondered how that was going…?. He hadn’t called her, but tomorrow was Wednesday, usually the night they saw each other.
She pulled up in front of her parents’ house. Was her letter somewhere inside? How exactly would she ask about it?
“Look at you! You’re beautiful!” Jon announced as he answered the door. “Come in, birthday princess. Everyone’s here except Gretch the Wretch, even Brianna, OMG, you should’ve seen her face when she found out we were having pork knuckles for an appetizer. And listen, I tried to bring chicken cordon bleu and scalloped potatoes, but your mom said your heart was set on herring, so we’re stuck with the food from the Fatherland.” He paused for breath. “Why the sad face?”
“I didn’t get the rights to The Meadows,” she said, and you know, that was the thing about family. They hugged her and patted her shoulder, and Jon made her a vodka gimlet, and Mom set a plate of pork meatballs in front of her.
“They’re stupid if they didn’t hire you,” Brianna said, and Posey smiled. Brie was nothing if not loyal.
“Agreed,” murmured Henry.
“Well, it’s your birthday, so be happy,” Dad said, squeezing her shoulder.
“Thanks, Dad,” she said. He might’ve kept a secret for the past fifteen years, but he was her dear old dad nonetheless.
The door banged open, and there was Gretchen, dressed to kill in a slinky pink shirt and tight black skirt that clung to her curves. She gave a rather formal nod. “Hello, all.”
“Sweetie, have a seat!” Stacia said. “You look exhausted!”
“Is four half-days a week just too much?” Jon murmured to Posey.
Gretchen allowed Max to get her a drink. “Well, don’t just sit there,” Stacia commanded, ever the gracious hostess. “Get into the dining room. Essen und geniessen!”
“Come again?” Brianna said, examining a pork-liver ball at the end of a toothpick.
“Eat and enjoy,” Stacia said. “Come on, sweetheart, while it’s hot!”
When they were all seated around the dining-room table, Henry tapped his glass. “We have an announcement, and Jon said I was the one who should tell you.” He glanced at his partner and smiled. “Okay, here goes. Posey, we have a birthday present for you, but you’ll have to wait a little while before it gets here.”
“I hope it’s big and expensive,” she said.
“It’s expensive, but still pretty little. We pick it up in Guatemala next month.” He paused. “It’s a niece.”
There was a moment of silence. Posey covered her mouth with her hand. “A niece? Oh, guys!” She lunged up from the table to hug them both. Max and Stacia followed suit, engulfing the boys in hugs and sobs.
“She’s thirteen months old,” Jon said damply, “and her name is Elisabeta Rosa Josephina Juarez, soon to be Elisabeta Rosa Josephina Juarez-Osterhagen-White.”
“Rolls right off the tongue,” Brianna said, buttering another piece of bread.
“We’re going to call her Betty,” Jon continued.
“Betty White?” Brie said, grinning.
“Who better to be a role model? Anyway, she’s at Our Lady of Angels Orphanage right now, and we have a picture and everything. And of course, Posey, you’ll be godmother.”
“I can’t believe it. I’ve waited so long for grandchildren,” Stacia said, sinking back into her chair in a happy daze.
Henry handed Posey a picture, and her eyes filled with fresh tears. The baby had dark hair, long enough for the barrettes and ribbons Jon was sure to employ, and huge dark eyes. She was chubby, her expression solemn, and Posey’s heart swelled with love. “She’s so beautiful. Hi, Betty.” She grinned up at the boys, then looked at Brianna. “Pretty cool, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah. So cool.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t ditch you.”
Brie cut her a glance. “Feel free.”
“Sulk all you want, you’re stuck with me. You can help change poopy diapers and everything.”
“I’m counting the hours.” But she gave Posey a grateful look and didn’t make gagging noises when Jon described the mural of unicorns he was going to paint in the baby’s room.
Only Gretchen didn’t seem terribly interested. She duly admired the photo, then passed it on. Nor did she say boo during the entire dinner, or even sing “Happy Birthday.” Something was definitely up, and a warning wriggled down Posey’s spine like a cold fish.
Brianna’s mother picked her up right after coffee and kuchen were served, and Posey was happy to see Tina give her daughter a kiss. Home life had taken a turn for the better, according to Brie.
The family slumped around the living room in the usual high-carb, high-fat coma that Osterhagen meals induced. Stacia was still clutching the photo of Betty, murmuring about getting some baby things down from the attic.
“So,” Max asked, patting Gretchen’s hand, “you’re awfully quiet. Everything okay, sweetheart?”
She took a deep, measured breath, as if about to give a speech. “It’s nice that someone finally noticed, Papa.” She looked at Posey.
Ruh-roh, Posey thought. Something was about to hit the fan.
“I had a little surprise last night,” Gretchen said, ice dripping from her voice. “Dante happened to mention that he and Posey had been lovers. Isn’t that funny?”