Until There Was You(60)

Gretchen had lived in a glittering apartment in one of the sleek and shiny Trump buildings along the Hudson River. As Elise suspected, it was littered with celebrities.

Shilo stretched, hitting Posey on the side of the head with a massive paw. “So you were spending more than you were making,” she said.

“Well, yes, Posey, I suppose if you put it that way, I was. Look. I’m a celebrity, okay? There are certain expectations of me that you don’t understand. All those appearances, all those…things.”

“Like opening that Kmart?”

“People expect a television personality to look rich. You have no idea, Posey. So, yes, I spent more than I made. Big deal. Everyone does it. Even Donald Trump declares bankruptcy once in a while.” She flung her braid over her shoulder and took a defiant sip of cocoa.

Posey said nothing. There was no arguing with Gretchen when she started comparing herself to the rich and famous. After a minute or two, Gretchen sighed. “Look, Posey, I know you think I’m a big phony. And I was stupid, I admit that. I started playing blackjack— I dated this guy who had a share in a casino in Atlantic City, whatever, and at first I won. It was amazing. You have no idea what it’s like, winning a thousand dollars, or even two.” Her face took on a soft, dreamy look. “There’s such a rush. I mean, you walk in with what, four, five grand, and you can double your money in an hour.”

“I’m guessing you wouldn’t be broke if it was that easy,” Posey said.

Gretchen ignored her. “One time, Pose, I won seven thousand dollars in one night.”

“How long did it take you to lose it?”

Slowly, Gretchen seemed to come back to earth. “That’s the thing,” she admitted. “You get hooked. You lose six rounds, then you win one and you think ‘Oh, I’m on a roll now, I’ll get it back,’ and then even if you do, you can’t help wanting more.”

Sensing that someone needed a kiss, Shilo rolled off the couch and went over to Gret and licked her knee. For once, she didn’t push his big head out of the way, just reached out and gave him an awkward pat. Jellybean, disgusted that Gretchen’s attention had gone to a lowly canine, jumped off the couch and stalked away.

“I didn’t quit the Cooking Network,” Gretchen said, so quietly Posey almost couldn’t hear. “They fired me. I’d borrowed money from a not-very-nice person, and when I couldn’t pay it, he went to the network and said he’d make it public. So they paid it, but they fired me.”

“How much was it?” Posey asked.

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Oh, Gret.” Posey closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” That dopey show had been everything to her cousin.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, a hard edge to her voice. “They didn’t know anything. Marketing practically ignored me. I was, like, how am I going to get a million viewers an episode if you put me in this slot? Against Rachael Ray, who gets everything handed to her on a silver platter? And who’s gained fifteen pounds this year alone? Don’t get me started on that scrawny tramp, Giada.”

“Okay, let’s just skip over all of the glaring hyperbole and let me ask you this,” Posey said. “Gret, if your whole life has collapsed because of a gambling problem, why were you at the casino tonight?”

“Because! You think I like living here with you in this freezing-cold house? Listening to Max and Stacia tell me—me!—how to make a linzer torte?”

“Whoa! Stop right there, princess! I don’t recall inviting you here, and as for my parents, you should be kissing their feet and scrubbing their toilets. So don’t go there, okay?”

Gretchen looked at her hands. “I just want to get my life back in gear,” she said in a quieter voice. “I thought if I could win a few thousand dollars, I could…start over.”

“Where’d you get the money to gamble?”

Gretchen didn’t answer for a minute. “From your parents. From what they gave me for the renovation.”

“Gret! You can’t do that!”

“Well, I did! It was stupid, but you don’t understand!”

“How much did you take?”

“Two grand.”

Posey took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. “Okay. I’ll pay that back, too. But here’s the deal. You’re going to pay me back. All five thousand, because guess what? You cleaned me out, Gret. I’m not rich, you know.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” She cocked a perfect eyebrow.

“And guess what else, Fraulein? You can start by helping out around here. Painting, window glazing, moving some of this stuff…”

“I don’t know how to paint. Or glaze a window.”

“Well, how about this, Gretchen? You can learn.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SIX TWENTY-THREE on Wednesday night of a long weekend. He could work. Or eat. He could make dinner, then eat, then work. Also, maybe watch some television.

Nicole was at yet another sleepover, as school was closed tomorrow for a teacher-development thing, then on Friday as well for Founders’ Day Weekend. It was her third sleepover since they’d moved. This was either good, in that she was making friends, or very bad, in that she might at this very moment be guzzling vodka and doing Ecstasy with a bunch of boys, after which they’d get in a car and all end up dead.