Until There Was You(97)

“I hope it’s big and expensive,” she said.

“It’s expensive, but still pretty little. We pick it up in Guatemala next month.” He paused. “It’s a niece.”

There was a moment of silence. Posey covered her mouth with her hand. “A niece? Oh, guys!” She lunged up from the table to hug them both. Max and Stacia followed suit, engulfing the boys in hugs and sobs.

“She’s thirteen months old,” Jon said damply, “and her name is Elisabeta Rosa Josephina Juarez, soon to be Elisabeta Rosa Josephina Juarez-Osterhagen-White.”

“Rolls right off the tongue,” Brianna said, buttering another piece of bread.

“We’re going to call her Betty,” Jon continued.

“Betty White?” Brie said, grinning.

“Who better to be a role model? Anyway, she’s at Our Lady of Angels Orphanage right now, and we have a picture and everything. And of course, Posey, you’ll be godmother.”

“I can’t believe it. I’ve waited so long for grandchildren,” Stacia said, sinking back into her chair in a happy daze.

Henry handed Posey a picture, and her eyes filled with fresh tears. The baby had dark hair, long enough for the barrettes and ribbons Jon was sure to employ, and huge dark eyes. She was chubby, her expression solemn, and Posey’s heart swelled with love. “She’s so beautiful. Hi, Betty.” She grinned up at the boys, then looked at Brianna. “Pretty cool, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yeah. So cool.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t ditch you.”

Brie cut her a glance. “Feel free.”

“Sulk all you want, you’re stuck with me. You can help change poopy diapers and everything.”

“I’m counting the hours.” But she gave Posey a grateful look and didn’t make gagging noises when Jon described the mural of unicorns he was going to paint in the baby’s room.

Only Gretchen didn’t seem terribly interested. She duly admired the photo, then passed it on. Nor did she say boo during the entire dinner, or even sing “Happy Birthday.” Something was definitely up, and a warning wriggled down Posey’s spine like a cold fish.

Brianna’s mother picked her up right after coffee and kuchen were served, and Posey was happy to see Tina give her daughter a kiss. Home life had taken a turn for the better, according to Brie.

The family slumped around the living room in the usual high-carb, high-fat coma that Osterhagen meals induced. Stacia was still clutching the photo of Betty, murmuring about getting some baby things down from the attic.

“So,” Max asked, patting Gretchen’s hand, “you’re awfully quiet. Everything okay, sweetheart?”

She took a deep, measured breath, as if about to give a speech. “It’s nice that someone finally noticed, Papa.” She looked at Posey.

Ruh-roh, Posey thought. Something was about to hit the fan.

“I had a little surprise last night,” Gretchen said, ice dripping from her voice. “Dante happened to mention that he and Posey had been lovers. Isn’t that funny?”

Posey’s stomach contracted, the three helpings of potatoes threatening to revisit her. “Um…Gret, maybe we should talk privately,” she murmured. She glanced at her mother, whose face had frozen in horror.

“No! I think we should talk now, Posey!” Gretchen slammed her hand down on the armrest. “You were sleeping with my boyfriend and you never said a word!”

“More coffee, anyone?” Max said, bolting from his chair into the kitchen. No one else moved.

“She wasn’t sleeping with Dante!” Stacia protested. “She would never do such a thing!”

“Really?” Gretchen demanded. “Tell them, Posey.”

Posey glanced at her mother, then at the boys. Jon grimaced, Henry shrugged. “Okay, yes,” she said. “Dante and I had a very brief, uh, relationship. Which was over before he even met you, Gretchen.”

“And you never thought to mention it?”

“No!” Stacia gasped. “Posey! Dante Bellini? How could you?”

“Do you think I would’ve taken your leavings if I’d known?” Gretchen’s face was mottled with fury.

“Time for us to go, don’t you think?” Henry said. “Happy birthday, sis.”

“Want us to stay?” Jon murmured.

Gretchen turned on him. “No! She doesn’t get her little fan club to cheer her on, Jon! Go home! You’re not wanted here.”

“Watch yourself, young lady,” Max said sternly from the kitchen. His head popped into the living room. “But she has a point. No reason for you to stay, fellas.”

“Exactly, Pop. See you soon.” Henry took Jon’s arm and towed him out of the dining room.

“We’re thrilled about the baby,” Stacia said automatically.

“Congratulations,” Posey called.

Jon pulled a face—dismay and sympathy—and slipped out after Henry.

Silence fell over the living room. Stacia shredded a napkin, staring at the photo of Posey as Turnip as if wondering where that sweet child had gone. Max lingered in the doorway, his gaze bouncing between the three women.

“I can’t believe you lied to my face,” Gretchen said, her lips tight.