Until There Was You(33)

“Hey, you two trees,” she said, smiling.

“Baby! There you are!” Stacia broke free from Max to give Posey a kiss. “Are you having fun? Oh, you’re flushed. Do you have a fever?” She pressed a hand to Posey’s forehead, the human thermometer. “Ninety-eight point four. Hmm.”

“I had a drink,” Posey explained.

“Are you enjoying the party, Turnip?” Max asked.

She looked up at them, her doting parents. They seemed so happy. And if Gretchen taking over made them happy—even if that meant Glubby had to come home with her—she wasn’t going to say a word. “You bet. So much fun. So, a new look, huh?”

“We should go talk to the mayor,” Max said. “Come with us, sweetie. The newspaper wants a picture.”

“You know what? I’m gonna pass,” she said, enunciating carefully. “I have to find some more of those green thingies. They were great. Have fun! See you later!” Posey kissed her parents, almost but not quite losing her balance. She watched as they schmoozed and laughed, but when Gretchen joined them for the photo op, Posey decided it was time to become invisible again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“DID I TELL YOU I’M on a new hormone replacement?” Mrs. Antonelli asked.

Liam choked on his beer. “Uh…no. No, you didn’t.”

“It works much better,” she said.

“I—I’m glad,” he said, not daring to look at her. Did she go around telling everyone this kind of thing? Was this some kind of geriatric pass? Would this party ever end? Liam glanced at his watch.

“What time is it, dear?” Mrs. Antonelli asked.

“Almost nine,” he answered.

“Oh! I have to go. I have to take my blood-pressure medicine at nine-thirty. And that estrogen. Don’t want to be late with that, if you know what I mean.”

He didn’t. But he had come with the old lady, so taking her home was his duty. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be fending off any Bengay-scented passes in the elevator. Meanwhile, a woman was giving him the eye, doing the hair toss and sidelong look. Why not just whip her bra off and toss it to him, huh? The message was received. Just not wanted.

His phone buzzed. Nicole, the screen read. Good girl, right on time for her check-in. “I have to take this, Mrs. A,” he said, taking the phone out of his pocket. “It’s my daughter.”

“Oh, that’s fine, sweetheart. I’ve got a ride with Lenore. She’s coming up to watch CSI: Miami. It’s our tradition. See you at home!”

God bless you, Lenore. “Hi, honey,” he said into the phone.

“Hi, Dad! Are you having fun?”

“Oh, yeah. You?”

“It’s really great. We’re about to watch Drag Me to Hell, so I have to make this short.”

“Nic, you know you don’t like scary movies,” he said.

“When I was, like, nine, Dad. I’m fine. So, I’ll call you later?”

He sighed. “That would be great. Thanks, honey.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too, Nicole.”

She hung up before he’d finished saying it. Well, Liam guessed if Mrs. Antonelli could go, so could he. Maybe watch the Sox, despite their wretched start this year. Pay some bills. Check the locks. All that fun stuff.

He said his goodbyes to the Osterhagens and managed to avoid the red-faced fat guy who’d cornered him earlier. Someone from high school, obviously.

Those weren’t years he was particularly proud of. Then again, those years had brought him to Emma, so there was that. But before her, yeah, he’d been a shit. A few people remembered him fondly—the Osterhagens, of course, and the librarian who’d helped him stumble through Shakespeare. Marty, who’d let Liam work at his garage, had come by the other day and schmoozed about engines. Liam had even run into one of the bouncers from the bar in Kittery where he’d played a couple times, trying to pick up a little extra money before the Osterhagens hired him.

But then there were the people who weren’t so glad to see him. The girls-turned-women like Maya who, though more than willing enough back then, now seemed to hold a grudge. In the supermarket the other day, some guy shot him a dark glance and muttered “Dick.” No clue why, other than the suspicion that it had something to do with a female. Twenty years ago. Grudges seemed to be an art form around here.

But Bellsford was a pretty town, too, unlike anything in Southern California, Liam thought as he stepped out of the overheated restaurant into the cool night air. The downtown was crammed with little shops and restaurants, and antique iron lampposts lit the brick sidewalks. On one corner was the huge old granite bank, and across the street, the big brick church with a white steeple spearing up into the dark sky. Not the boonies, not the city, and just perfect for Nicole, he hoped.

The Tates were certainly glad to have them back. Well, glad to have Nicole back, the only child of their only child. If they had never warmed up to Liam, at least they appreciated the fact that he’d given them easier access to their granddaughter. Said access might bite him in the ass, granted; they were already asking if she could spend every weekend with them up in Ogunquit, where they’d moved when Emma was in college.

Liam crossed Boyden Street, then paused. Up ahead was a woman in a sleeveless dress and engineer boots. Cordelia Osterhagen, weaving more than walking.