Until There Was You (27 page)

L
IAM THREW HIS TOOL BAG
in the trunk of the car. Half a day’s work, gone but for a good cause. He could make the work up. Maybe (though not probably)…maybe Nicole would want to come down to the garage and do her homework while he worked. They could order pizza. She used to love being near him when he was working; she’d never be one of those women who couldn’t fix her own car, that was for sure. But she hadn’t been down in a while.

Liam pulled into Granite State Custom Motorcycles and muttered a curse. A shiny black Mercedes was parked right in front of the door, the Tates sitting in the front seat, their expressions as cheerful as cadavers.

“Come on in,” he said, holding the door for them.

“No need, Liam,” George said, getting out of the car. Louise did as well, joining her husband at his side. “We’ll make this brief.”

Liam looked at Louise, whose lips were pressed together. “What is it?”

George cleared his throat. “We’re filing for custody of our granddaughter.”

Liam’s mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy?”

“She needs a stable home after all she’s been through,” Louise said, her face tight with hatred. “She
has
a stable home!”

“Without a parade of women traipsing in and out of her life,” she added viciously.

“Okay, hold on.” Liam held up his hands. “I— Nicole doesn’t—” Sweat broke out on his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. “You can’t just take her away from me. She’s my child.”

“Look, son,” George said, “we’re not trying to take her away.”

“You’re filing for custody, but you’re not trying to take her away? Bullshit, George.”

“You can still visit whenever you want.”

“First of all, are you insane? Absolutely not! And secondly, she wouldn’t—”
She wouldn’t want to leave me,
he was about to say.

Except maybe she did.

“You were out gallivanting around the countryside on a motorcycle with some
woman,
” Louise hissed, her voice like a razor, “and that child was alone! No wonder she called her boyfriend! No wonder she was afraid! And she told us about how you grounded her, which is utterly and completely hypocritical, given that you’d just rolled out of that tramp’s bed—”

“Stop it! Stop!” Liam barked. “First of all, I was gone for maybe four hours, and Nicole is almost sixteen. Mrs. Antonelli was right next door, and Nicole knew that. Secondly, Cordelia is an old friend. And yes, we’ve been seeing each other a little bit here and there. But that doesn’t make me an unfit parent—”

Louise snorted. “Your track record speaks for itself,” she said, folding her bony arms across her chest.

“My track record? Would that be raising your grandchild and taking care of your daughter for the last year of her life? That track record, Louise?”

“How many women have you slept with, Liam? Do you honestly think that we believe you were faithful to our daughter? How many of your old conquests have you seen since you’ve been back, hmm? I bet quite a few of them would love to come to court and talk about your habits.”

“I
never
cheated on Emma,” he said hotly. He turned to his father-in-law. “George, this is crazy. You can’t take my daughter away from me.” His voice cracked.

“We have concerns about your stability,” his father-in-law said. “And I’m not just talking about women. Our lawyer has taken a statement from a social worker at the hospital regarding your…problems.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mental health professionals can testify in cases regarding the stability of a parent,” Louise said. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out about your panic attacks? I am on the board of that hospital. What else are you hiding? Are you a drug addict, like your mother?”

“My God,” Liam breathed.

“Look,” George said. “We’re not taking her away. We’re just providing her with the things you can’t. Stability, a woman’s influence, a good…ah, moral code.”

“No judge would ever—”

“We’ll see.” George Tate opened the car door. “You’ll be hearing from our lawyer.”

N
ICOLE DIDN’T SEEM
to notice anything different when he picked her up from school. She ignored him as best she could as they drove home.

Liam had been fighting off a panic attack since the Tates left, and no amount of hand washing seemed to be helping. On the one hand, he could cheerfully murder them both. Whether or not they had a legal leg to stand on, they sure had a lot of money to throw at this and make his life utter hell. The bit about the social worker…he didn’t even remember a social worker, which might be a problem. What had he said?

He was a good father. Wasn’t he? He’d never tried so hard at anything as he had with raising Nicole.

On the other hand—this was the thought that had his heart heaving—what if they were right? What if Nicole needed more than he could give her? She loved him, he loved her, God knew, but was that enough? Was he enough? Would Nicole jump at the chance to live with her grandparents? What if this was her idea? If it was, then he really was no one from nowhere, because the only good thing he’d ever done was be a father to Nicole.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, setting the keys down on the table.

“I have
homework,
” she said defiantly.

“Do you want to spend more time with Grandma and Grandpa?” he asked, and his voice was a little hoarse.

“Right now? Totally.”

He tried not to flinch at her words. “Nic, do you want to live with them?”

Nicole’s mouth dropped open. “What?” Her face turned bright red, whether with guilt or surprise, Liam couldn’t tell.

“Grandma and Grandpa came to see me today. They want you to come live with them.”

Her expression didn’t change for a second. Then her beautiful blue eyes were suddenly swamped with tears. “You’re sending me away? Because I kissed Tanner? Are you really that mad, Daddy?”

Liam leaped across the kitchen and folded her against him. “I’m not sending you anywhere, baby,” he said, almost ashamed at the relief flooding through him because of his daughter’s distress. “I already told them no.” He kissed her head. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted that.”

“No!” Nicole sobbed. “I want to stay with you! I’m sorry I broke the rules!”

“Honey, this isn’t about that, okay? But they just think that it would be…good…if you spent more time with them.”

“Why?” She pulled back and looked at him, her face wet with tears.

He could say it, he knew. Tell how her grandparents were filing for custody, how they thought he was trash, a womanizer, an unfit father, had never been good enough for their daughter. In this moment, if he told her all those things—and all those things were true—he could do some serious damage to the Tates’ relationship with their precious granddaughter. She’d never look at them the same way again.

He touched the tip of her nose. “They just love you so much, sweetheart,” he said gently. “And they miss your mom, and you remind them of her.”

Nicole’s face scrunched up. “I know,” she whispered. “But I want to stay with you. Even if you’re a hard-ass.”

Thank you, God.
Liam felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he hugged his daughter again.

“I don’t want anything else to change,” Nicole said into his shirt. “Losing Mommy was hard enough. I like it just the two of us. That’s the way I want it to stay.”

“Me, too, baby,” he murmured, breathing in the smell of her hair. “Me, too.”

He wouldn’t give the Tates any more ammunition. He wouldn’t leave Nicole any room to screw up again.

He’d stop seeing Cordelia, and though the thought caused a hollow echo to roll through him, all that mattered was here in his arms.

“S
O WHAT DO YOU
think, Viv? Do I look like a girl?”

Vivian squinted through her bifocals. “Well, it’s nice to see you in a dress, even one so ill-fitting.”

“The saleslady said it was supposed to be loose.”

“She lied.”

Posey looked down at herself, the landscape unfamiliar in the sheath dress. But she wanted to look a little nicer these days. She certainly was feeling more…womanly, having a boyfriend and all. Especially one who complimented her. Was the dress a little Audrey Hepburn–inspired? Probably. She might like Liam to see her in it (or out of it).

“You might be right. Anyway, I was at the spa today. I didn’t think I’d like it, but it was kind of fun. And don’t I smell great?” She offered her forearm to Vivian, who frowned and turned her head away. “Well. I smell great, take my word.”

Sitting down next to Vivian, she sighed. The spa had been fun, but now she had to see her parents and the thought of the letter from her birth mother burned in her mind.

“What’s the matter with you?” the old lady asked. She’d gone psychic, apparently.

Posey hesitated. “Did anyone in your family ever keep a secret from you?”

“Of course. It’s the nature of families. Why?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. “Why didn’t you and your husband ever adopt, Viv?”

“Aren’t we personal,” Vivian murmured.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m aware of that.” Vivian gave her a lethal look, then turned her face away. “Ernest was against it,” she said eventually. “I wouldn’t have minded, but he was a bit of an ass about the subject. Anyway. It’s your birthday, if I recall.”

“How did you know?” Posey asked.

“A little bird who won’t stop talking told me. That girl needs finishing school. You both do. Here.” She handed Posey a box.

Well, knock her over with a feather. Vivian Appleton was not a sentimental person. In all the time Posey had known her, she had never given a compliment, let alone a gift. “Are you dying, Viv?” Posey said.

“We’re all dying. Open it.”

“This is so sweet. Thank you!”

“Thank me when you open it,” the old lady said, sitting a little straighter.

Posey untied the ribbons. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“I never believed that expression, did you?”

Posey laughed and opened the box. Her breath caught. “Oh, Vivian! It’s beautiful!”

It was an antique butterfly pin, wings sparkling with tiny, multicolored crystal beads. The butterfly’s body was gold, and it seemed to be smiling, the black jeweled eyes glittering.

“It’s not worth much,” Vivian said, looking away. “But it was mine when I was a girl. My aunt gave it to me for my tenth birthday. It reminded me of you.”

So uncharacteristic, all this thoughtfulness! “I love it.” Posey fastened it to her dress, then leaned over and kissed Vivian’s soft, withered cheek. “Thank you, Viv.”

The old lady stared straight ahead. “I signed with Down East Salvage this morning.”

The words hit Posey like a slap. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Down East Salvage? The thought of The Meadows being taken down was horrible enough…but those gorillas at Down East…how could— They wouldn’t— Oh, bieber, she was going to cry. Realizing that her mouth was still open, she closed it and sat back against the couch so she wouldn’t have to look at Vivian.

“They offered me ten thousand more than you did,” Vivian said, her tone brisk. “It would’ve been foolish not to take it.”

Posey’s throat was too tight to answer.

“I have the right to dispose of my property as I see fit, Posey,” Viv snapped. “I have my nieces and nephews to think of, you know, and they wouldn’t appreciate me—”

“It’s okay,” she said, taking Vivian’s hand. If she looked at the old lady now, she’d start bawling. “I understand.” She bit her lip to control the trembling of her mouth.

How could Viv’s Vultures just…erase a place like The Meadows? Pretend it never happened and slap up a bevy of soulless McMansions, and that gracious, beautiful house, built in the time of Mark Twain and parasols, of lemonade on the porch in the summer and sleigh bells on harnesses in the winter, would be gone.

Down East Salvage would strip the house down in days. Posey had seen them work—they used chainsaws, for the love of Elvis, and backhoes. Those beautiful gardens would be torn up, thousands of bulbs and plants crushed or thrown away. Down East would cut down the elm tree, she’d bet her life they would, never mind that it was three hundred years old. They would desecrate the entire place. They didn’t love The Meadows the way she did. They hadn’t been there twice a week for the past two years. They hadn’t made love out by the pine trees.

Posey would’ve taken months with that house. She and Mac would’ve lovingly removed every feature, from the marble fireplace in the dining room to the copper tub on the third floor. She would’ve cut out the lead-paned windows with her sharpest, smallest saw and coaxed them from the walls. Every doorknob, every light-switch plate, every heating grate would’ve been wrapped carefully until Posey found them new homes, where they’d be loved and appreciated. And when the beautiful shell of the house finally had to come down, Posey would’ve stood guard until it was done and paid her last respects.

Down East would use Dumpsters. They’d hire high-school kids, and they’d throw things out the windows into
Dumpsters
. She’d seen it happen on their job sites before.

“I have to get going,” Posey said when she could trust her voice.

“Yes. You have a birthday engagement, I suppose,” Vivian said.

“Dinner with my family.” She swallowed. “Thank you for the pin. It’s beautiful.”

“Go. You’ll be late, and it’s so inconsiderate.” With that, Vivian fished out her phone and began texting.

Posey tried not to think about The Meadows on the drive to her parents’ house.

But it was hard.

The whole week had been hard. She hadn’t seen her parents since learning about the letter.

Max and Stacia had always given all the right lip service on the rare occasions that the subject of birth parents came up. But Posey knew. If she’d ever said, “Hey, I’d like to find my birth parents,” they’d take it like a knife in the heart. Who, after all, had done the real work of parenting, staying up when Posey was sick, helping her with her science homework, taking such pride in her depiction of the turnip in Farmer Smith’s garden?

So she’d done nothing about the letter, aside from telling Liam. And, it must be acknowledged, Liam had been incredible. All that upset, all that churning, and he’d somehow made her feel…happy.

It was too bad about the run-in with the Tates. She wondered how that was going…?. He hadn’t called her, but tomorrow was Wednesday, usually the night they saw each other.

She pulled up in front of her parents’ house. Was her letter somewhere inside? How exactly would she ask about it?

“Look at you! You’re beautiful!” Jon announced as he answered the door. “Come in, birthday princess. Everyone’s here except Gretch the Wretch, even Brianna, OMG, you should’ve seen her face when she found out we were having pork knuckles for an appetizer. And listen, I tried to bring chicken cordon bleu and scalloped potatoes, but your mom said your heart was set on herring, so we’re stuck with the food from the Fatherland.” He paused for breath. “Why the sad face?”

“I didn’t get the rights to The Meadows,” she said, and you know, that was the thing about family. They hugged her and patted her shoulder, and Jon made her a vodka gimlet, and Mom set a plate of pork meatballs in front of her.

“They’re stupid if they didn’t hire you,” Brianna said, and Posey smiled. Brie was nothing if not loyal.

“Agreed,” murmured Henry.

“Well, it’s your birthday, so be happy,” Dad said, squeezing her shoulder.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said. He might’ve kept a secret for the past fifteen years, but he was her dear old dad nonetheless.

The door banged open, and there was Gretchen, dressed to kill in a slinky pink shirt and tight black skirt that clung to her curves. She gave a rather formal nod. “Hello, all.”

“Sweetie, have a seat!” Stacia said. “You look exhausted!”

“Is four half-days a week just too much?” Jon murmured to Posey.

Gretchen allowed Max to get her a drink. “Well, don’t just sit there,” Stacia commanded, ever the gracious hostess. “Get into the dining room.
Essen und geniessen!
”

“Come again?” Brianna said, examining a pork-liver ball at the end of a toothpick.

“Eat and enjoy,” Stacia said. “Come on, sweetheart, while it’s hot!”

When they were all seated around the dining-room table, Henry tapped his glass. “We have an announcement, and Jon said I was the one who should tell you.” He glanced at his partner and smiled. “Okay, here goes. Posey, we have a birthday present for you, but you’ll have to wait a little while before it gets here.”

“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.

“I didn’t lie,” Posey said, glancing at the picture of Pope Benedict.
Lies of omission are still lies,
she could hear him whispering in his creepy bad-guy voice. “I mean, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it mattered, Gret. That’s all.”

“How could it not matter?” she hissed.