Until There Was You(105)

“Mac, stop,” Posey said.

He obeyed, turning to see what she wanted.

The phone rang. “Irreplaceable Artifacts, good morning!” Elise chirruped into the receiver. Posey took the phone from her and hung it up.

She looked at them, her faithful employees. Her friends. “Mac. Elise likes you. She has for the past two years. Have you somehow missed this?”

Mac’s cheeks flamed. “I…noticed.”

“So?” Posey demanded. “Do you like her? She’s beautiful, she’s cheerful, she’s got a huge heart. Any interest?”

Elise’s mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide. For once, she didn’t say a word.

“She’s pretty young,” Mac said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Right. How old are you, Elise? Twenty-eight?”

Elise nodded.

“And you’re forty-two, Mac?”

He nodded.

“Elise, you like older men, I’m guessing?”

“Well,” she whispered, blushing furiously, “I totally like this one.”

“Would you like to go out with a younger woman, Mac? A beautiful, sweet younger woman who’s been crazy about you since the first week she started here?”

His eyes went from Posey to Elise, then back again. “Um…okay.”

“Seriously?” Elise breathed. “Oh, my gosh! Right? That’s great! How about tonight?”

Mac swallowed audibly. “Sure,” he said. He looked back at Posey. “Can I get to work now?”

“Yes. Please do,” she said, smiling. Mac’s blush extended all the way up to his bald head. He looked at Elise—it took some effort, but he did it—and said, very quietly, “See you later, then,” and fled.

Posey held up a finger to Elise and trotted back to the shop. Mac was leaning against the wall, his shirt blotchy with sweat. “You okay?”

He nodded.

“You really want to go out with her?”

Another nod.

“Are you having a heart attack?”

He cut her a glance. “I think so.”

Posey grinned. “I think it’s love,” she said, and Mac shook his head, but a little smile crossed his face.

Assured that he wasn’t about to drop dead, Posey went back to the counter.

“You’re totally the best boss, like…ever?” Elise said, throwing her arms around Posey. “I thought I was gonna have to come in here na**d and handcuff him to me!”

“Now, see, that would’ve worked, too,” Posey said, smiling. “Now, go easy on him. Be gentle. He needs time.”

“Time. Roger that.” Elise beamed, and Posey’s heart lifted at her friend’s happiness.

“Okay, I have to run out to the candy factory and talk to the owner about what he wants to keep. And then I have an errand. I probably won’t be back today.” With that, she chose two aging wicker chairs whose cushions didn’t smell too moldy and hefted them in the back of her truck, whistled for Shilo and went off.

WHEN VIVIAN ANSWERED her door a few hours later, her wrinkled old mouth fell open. “Posey! What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you, too,” Posey answered, shifting the box in her hands.

“But…but I thought you…” Viv closed her mouth. “I thought our business had concluded,” she said, enunciating carefully.

“Well, we’re still friends, right?” Posey asked. “And it’s Monday. Our day for lunch?”

Vivian blinked. “Aren’t you angry that I went with Down East?”

Posey hesitated. “Well, not angry. Disappointed. But it’s your property, as you said. Can I come in? This is heavy. It’s a present, by the way.”

Viv held the door wider, and Posey came in, the familiar musty smell of lavender and old lady greeting her. She put the box on the table, and, knowing Viv’s old hands weren’t strong enough, took out the gift.

Vivian stared at it for a long minute. Then her faded blue eyes filled with tears. “Posey…”

It was the model, of course. The Meadows in miniature and Posey’s best effort to date. She’d even found an elm tree to put in the side yard.

Vivian bent down to look more closely. “This was my bedroom when I was a girl,” she said softly. “I used to look out this window first thing every morning. There was the noisiest family of wrens in that tree.” The old lady’s mouth quivered, and she straightened abruptly. “Do you think the Vultures might…save it?”

Posey looked at Vivian, once a great beauty, once somewhat feared and revered in this town, once a beloved wife. A woman who’d never had a child and whose few relatives visited her only to ensure they were kept in the will, who would rip apart what was most precious to her. “They might, Viv,” she lied. “They just might.”

Vivian looked at the model again. “They won’t,” she said. “But they’re family, and you forgive them, even if they are the human equivalent of hyenas. Because that’s what you do, Posey. Forgive.”

“I guess so.”

“Well, I know so. And I’m older and far wiser than you.” Her voice was sharp and familiar once more. “Thank you for this. It’s quite accurate.”