Until There Was You(106)
“Would you like to go out for lunch?” Posey asked.
Vivian looked at her, her eyes returning to the present. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Yup. Care to be seen with me in public?”
Vivian’s lips twitched. “I suppose. Where are we going?”
Posey smiled. “I thought we’d have a picnic.”
DRIVING HOME that night, Posey found she was whistling. When Vivian had seen the model, that had been pretty great. But when she’d seen The Meadows…well. That had been even better.
Both of them had a good cry, sitting in the wicker chairs Posey’d brought, breathing in the scent of the peonies and lilacs. It had been wonderful hearing Vivian’s stories about parties and games of hide-and-seek, snowstorms and holidays, the maid who’d fallen for the cook, how Vivian’s husband had proposed under the chestnut tree.
“I’m glad you brought me, Posey,” Vivian had said as they trundled slowly down the long drive of The Meadows. Her voice softened, and she swallowed. “But I don’t want to come back again, dear.”
“Me, neither,” Posey said, taking her hand. “This was goodbye for us both.” Vivian squeezed her hand, and if both women were teary-eyed, they pretended otherwise and chatted about the weather for the rest of the drive.
“See you next week,” Posey said as Vivian unlocked her door.
“Try to dress like a woman,” Viv said, and with that, she went inside, leaving Posey laughing in the hallway.
But it was hard to keep thoughts of Liam from seeping in. The way his hands felt on her skin. His low, smooth voice, the way her name rolled in his mouth like he was tasting it. The way he kissed her, as if she was the first woman he’d ever kissed, that slow appreciation, building into something deeper and more intense—
“Okay! Shilo! What do we want for dinner?” Maybe she’d pop a Stouffer’s French bread pizza in the oven, since her deal with Jon didn’t start till after she’d chaperoned the prom. Great. Another thing to look forward to.
As she pulled into her driveway, she saw Gretchen sitting on the back steps, long legs crossed, a good three-quarters of her br**sts heaping out of her neckline as if for inspection. Shilo galloped over, and before Gretchen could move out of the way, gave her a slobbery kiss.
“Ew! Disgusting!” Gretchen said, scrambling up.
“Well, you’re just sitting there like a big piece of raw meat,” Posey said. “So. Here to set fire to my house, Gret? Since you like ruining things and all?”
Gretchen gave her a contemptuous look. “Dante and I are back together,” she said.
“Oh, let me break out the champagne, by all means.”
“Well, I thought you should know,” Gretchen sniffed. “Since it affects you.”
“No, it doesn’t, Gretchen. Dante and I had a two-second fling. In hindsight, I think he’s a superficial, shallow ass. Which makes him perfect for you, by the way.”
Gretchen crossed her arms, which made her boobage surge even more.
“Could you cover those up?” Posey couldn’t help asking. “They scare me.” Her stomach growled, so she walked past her cousin and went inside. Alas, Gretchen followed.
“Look. I’m sorry I ruined your precious little birthday dinner, okay? It was…bad timing. But you know what?” Her voice took on that familiar edge—the one she only used with Posey. “I couldn’t take it anymore. There you are, always having everything. Your parents fawning all over you, your brother telling you you’re going to be an aunt, and the godmother, too, of course, God forbid anyone else gets any recognition in this family.”
“Oh, please. You’re the prodigy, the television star, the Barefoot Fraulein, remember?” Posey yanked open the freezer, tore open a box and shoved the pizza in the oven.
“You need to turn it on first,” Gretchen said, condescension dripping.
“Thanks for the tip. It’s so great having a professional chef around.”
“Fine. I won’t say another word. Cook away.”
Posey slapped on the oven. “As for poor, ignored Gretchen, give me a break. Look around my parents’ house. There are more pictures of you than me. It’s not my fault you threw your career in the toilet, Gret.”
Suddenly Gretchen’s eyes flooded with tears. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Posey,” she said. “You don’t know what it’s like to be an only child. Or an orphan. All our lives, my parents compared us, right? I know that! I know I was the golden girl, and you were the ugly duckling.”
“Wow. We’re really bonding now.”
Gretchen wiped her eyes. “No, Posey. I’m serious. No one ever expected anything from you.”
“Can you please leave?”
Gretchen waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t mean it like that. But Posey, come on. You…you could flush a toilet and your parents would be on the phone, telling everyone how wonderful you were. Whatever you did, no matter what it was, they acted like you’d just walked on the moon. What do you think my parents would’ve said if I told them I wanted to be a junkyard owner?”
“It’s not a junkyard.”
“Whatever. What if I wanted to be a doctor or a pilot or a park ranger! I had to be a chef, Posey. My parents owned a restaurant, and I was going to follow in those footsteps. They drilled that into my head from birth on. A German chef, no matter the fact that I love Italian food. Or French. Or Thai!” She flopped into a chair.