Until There Was You(9)

“I blame Gretchen’s mother,” Jon said.

“Well, she’s dead, so that’s not very nice,” Posey murmured, reaching for another donut.

But it was true. Ever since Posey could remember, Gretchen had been doing her best to make Posey feel inferior. Why, Posey had no idea, because Gretchen sure seemed to have it all. Stacia and Gretchen’s mother, Ruth, were identical twins. The Heidelbergs also had a German restaurant, but in New York City, which they considered vastly superior to Bellsford. Both Stacia and Ruth had had trouble getting pregnant. The same year Max and Stacia adopted Posey, Ruth and Ralphie had had Gretchen, and the comparisons began. Ruth would call Stacia, detailing Gretchen’s list of many triumphs, from losing her first tooth to baking her first batch of pfeffernuesse, often remarking on Gretchen’s great beauty and strong resemblance to their mother. And Gretchen was beautiful. Posey was not. Gretchen was tall and confident, with long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a generous, curving figure she’d been showcasing since she’d bought her first bra at age nine.

As a kid, Gretchen had always been full of advice when the families got together—“Posey, you should let your hair grow so people can tell you’re a girl. Posey, if you eat more cheese, you might get boobs.” As they got older, she’d simply ignore Posey—unless the adults were watching, when she’d be saccharine-sweet and utterly fake.

Then, horribly, Aunt Ruth and Uncle Ralphie had died in a car accident. Gretchen and Posey had been seventeen, and Gretchen came to live with the Osterhagens. All through senior year, Posey had tried to be kind, trying to include Gretchen in her own meager social life, telling her she looked pretty in a certain shirt or sweater. But Gretchen had been too good for all that. She loved Stacia—her mother’s twin, after all—and Max, and was pleasant toward Henry on the rare weekends he came home from medical school, but as for Posey, she had nothing but veiled insults and fake affection.

“Should I, like…hate her now?” Elise asked.

“Yes,” Jon and Kate answered.

“No!” Posey said. “She’s…you know. She’s fine. It’ll be nice for my parents to have the help. And who knows? Business might pick up a little.”

“Why is she leaving her show?” Elise asked. “No offense to your parents, right? But it’s kind of a step down? Was that rude to say?”

“Probably ratings,” Kate said. “Up against Rachael Ray? Please.” Kate was a veteran of food and cooking shows, owned literally hundreds of cookbooks and knew every celebrity chef out there. Not that she cooked—another thing Posey and she had in common.

“Not according to her,” Jon said. At Posey’s questioning look, he added, “She sent Henry an email last week. Oh, is that the new model you’re working on?” He got up and went over to Posey’s work area, where a half-constructed model of a Colonial home was underway.

“Yep,” Posey answered. “That’s the Austin house. Mac and I took it apart last fall, remember?”

“Right, right,” Jon murmured. “We should have you come into class sometime. Well, maybe the art department should have you. This is gorgeous, Pose.”

Before Posey had gotten into salvage, she’d been a model-maker for an architect. The tiny details, the precision of the work, the lovely, warm idea that she could condense something so big…it was addicting. When she opened Irreplaceable Artifacts, she’d kept it up. Now, instead of creating a replica of a building that would someday be built, she made models of buildings that would soon be demolished…her gift to the owners, and a way of preserving the past.

“James!” Kate called. “Hey, bud, can you run out to the car and see if I have any tampons?”

“Mom, no. I have boundaries. I’m fourteen. Get your own tampons.”

Jon snorted. “Kate. Be kind to your boy.”

“What? We’re very close, that’s all. Right, James?”

“Not that close.”

Brianna was wheezing with laughter, and James gave her a look, then smiled.

“So, guys, guess what?” Posey said, lowering her voice. “I’m having a talk with Dante tonight.”

This brought Jon back to the counter. “And what are we saying?”

“Are you gonna propose? Because that would so romantic? Oh, my gosh. Wow,” Elise said.

“No, no. No proposals. Just…you know. Time to take things to the next level.”

Jon and Kate exchanged a look. “Best of luck with that,” her brother-in-law said.

“What? You don’t like him?”

“How could I say? I’ve never met him, except when I ate there, and if you tell Stacia that Henry and I went, I’ll murder you in your sleep. No, Posey, it’s just…I think he’s using you, that’s all.”

“For sex. He’s using you for sex,” Kate clarified.

Posey glanced over at the kids, who were fortunately immersed in birth-family horror stories, snorting with laughter. “Oh, I don’t think so. It’s just early days, that’s all.”

“Well, if he only calls you after 9:00 p.m. and only wants you to come to his house for a shag, has never introduced you to his friends or family, has no interest in meeting yours, I’d say Kate’s spot on,” Jon said, raising an eyebrow.