Until There Was You(85)

“So, what’s new, Gretchen?” Posey asked. May as well get things moving here.

“Well,” Gret said, flashing her a grateful smile, “I have some news. Some happy news.”

“Are you pregnant?” Stacia asked, getting a snort from Jonathan.

“No, no, not pregnant.”

“Sweet!” Henry said, phone in hand. “Someone got his foot caught in a lawn mower. Four toes severed! I have to run. Sorry!” Posey’s brother bolted from the table, face alight with joy.

“Henry is not normal,” Posey said.

“Hush,” Stacia chided. “Your brother’s a genius. Those hands? So gifted.”

Posey shot Jon a look. It’s true, he mouthed, winking.

“Anyway, Gret, as you were saying,” Posey said.

“Right.” Gretchen took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve been seeing someone, and while I wasn’t sure we were going to have a lot in common, it turns out we do. And we’re moving in together.”

Stacia gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, expression joyful. “Is it Liam?”

Gretchen glanced at Posey. “No. It’s…it was surprising to us both, but…well, it’s Dante Bellini.”

“Holy sh—oot!” Jon blurted. “Wow! That’s brave.”

Max said nothing. Stacia’s face was thunderous. “For a second there, I thought you said Dante Bellini,” she said rigidly.

“I did,” Gretchen’s voice was small.

“I think it’s romantic,” Posey offered. “Kind of a Montague-Capulet vibe.” No one said anything. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“Well, it’s not,” Stacia said. “Gretchen Katarina Heidelberg! Your parents would be—”

“Stop, Mom,” Posey interjected. “Look. Dante owns a restaurant, a lot of people like it, he has made some…uninformed comments about Guten Tag, but he’s hardly a criminal. Gretchen wouldn’t be dating him if he was, right, Gret?”

“Right,” she said. “Um, Auntie, Uncle Max, he’s very nice, really. And I—”

“I cannot believe I just ate Italian food!” Stacia trumpeted. “I feel unclean.”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Max said, patting his wife’s hand. “Grettie’s an adult, sweetheart. And Posey’s right. Mr. Bellini there might be a bit stuck-up, but Gretchen likes him. Which means we have to.”

Stacia shook her head. “I don’t know if I can,” she said, a Wagnerian note of disaster creeping into her voice. “He’s been so unkind.”

“Right, Mom,” Posey said. “But you know how you were telling me how sweet Gretchen is? How she sees the best in people? Well, maybe she makes Dante want to be a better man.” Jon made a gagging sound, and Posey kicked him under the table.

Stacia gave a little shrug.

“And didn’t Opa disapprove of Dad?” Posey said.

Stacia shot Max a glance. “Well…a little bit.”

“Maybe if you just gave Dante a chance,” Gretchen suggested.

“Well, I’m certainly not closed-minded,” Stacia said, and Posey had to bite her lip. “I suppose if you like him, sweetheart, then he can’t be too horrible. No matter how it seems.”

“Thanks, Mutti,” Gretchen said. She caught Posey’s eye. Thank you, she mouthed.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Posey lay on the bed in the guest room, watching as Gretchen packed her stuff. The big suitcases were out—Posey’s church would be hers once again. And the cats could reclaim their afternoon napping spot.

“No offense,” Gretchen said, “but I cannot wait to get out of here.”

Posey rolled her eyes. She always loved how people stuck in the words no offense right before they insulted you.

“I mean, seriously, this place is just not me. Maybe when you’re done with the renovations, sure. Oh, Posey, you should swing past Dante’s house! I’ll give you the tour. You’ve never seen anything like it.”

Posey swallowed. “Maybe sometime.”

“You want this bracelet?” Gretchen asked, tossing a sparkly blue thing on the bed next to Posey. “It never looked good on me.”

“Um…sure. Thanks,” Posey said. She couldn’t imagine wearing it, but it was a nice gesture.

Gretchen zipped up the suitcase. “I think that’s it,” she said briskly. She went to the bureau and handed Posey an envelope. “Here. Half of what I owe you.”

“Hope you didn’t win this at the craps table,” Posey said.

“Not funny,” Gretchen said, checking her teeth in the mirror. “No, that’s from my pay.”

Posey cocked an eyebrow. “You’re paid pretty well.”

“Well, I am a celebrity chef, Posey,” she said. “My name alone has brought in a ton of new business.”

Ah, Gretchen. She may have softened a little in the past couple of weeks, but she was still Gretchen. She looked at Posey in the mirror, then turned around and sat down on the bed. “Posey,” she said slowly, “there’s something I think I should tell you. It might upset you. But after living here, and especially after the past couple of weeks when we’ve gotten closer, I feel like I should say something.”