Until There Was You (29 page)

“Hey, Taylor. You know Cordelia Osterhagen, right?”

“Mmm.” She didn’t even bother to glance at Cordelia. “So, want to come over to my table and meet some of my friends? We’re having a girls’ night out, and they’re all wondering who this incredibly hot guy is.” She dropped her voice to a 1-900 whisper. “They cannot believe I slept with you.”

He looked at Cordelia. Maybe she needed one more nail in the coffin. “Yeah, sure, I’ll say hi. We’re done here, right, Posey?”

She flinched. “Yeah. Yup. See you around.”

Liam put down a twenty and, without looking at Cordelia, went to the table of giggling, overperfumed women, flirted briefly—no idea what the hell he said, but they ate it up—and, when Cordelia left, he counted to fifty-five then left the bevy of women and walked home, toward his daughter, toward fatherhood.

But the whole way, he thought about that dopey little cat, who didn’t even have the sense to stay off the road. Taking care of that cat had been the highlight of his day back then, the idea that he could tame something that had never been shown much kindness. The first day Joe had taken food from him, it was like a small miracle. He remembered its rusty purr, the little bumps of its spine when he petted it, how quickly it fattened up on tuna fish and pork scraps. It was the closest thing to a pet he’d ever had. He’d wanted to take him home, but his uncle said no.

Then one day, when Liam was riding his battered motorcycle home, there was Joe, lying on the side of the road. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was a mess, his back legs broken and bloodied, looking up at him with giant eyes and an expression of utter confusion. Didn’t make a sound as Liam whipped off his T-shirt, wrapping the cat in it as gently as he could, then holding him against his stomach as he raced to the vet.

Joe died before he even got there.

Liam took him down to the marsh and buried him, still wrapped in his T-shirt, and damned if he didn’t sit there and cry, harder than he had when his mother had died. He should’ve found a way to hide Joe in his uncle’s garage, or made him a shelter or something, but no, he’d just let Joe stay in the alley, feeding him until that fucking car came by and hit him.

It was the look on the little cat’s face that did it, as if shocked by the pain…but accepting it just the same. Like Joe knew cans of tuna behind the Dumpster were just too good to last. As if getting hit by a car, while horrible, was more the type of thing that happened to a stray cat who’d been alone most of his life.

It was the same way Cordelia looked tonight.

And even though breaking up with her was the right thing to do—he’d save her a lot of misery, and the Tates might get off his back, and he could focus on keeping Nic on the straight and narrow—even so, it felt like the best part of himself had died back there in that bar.

“H
E CALLED ME
P
OSEY
.”

“Well, that is your name, right? I mean, I haven’t been calling you the wrong name your whole life, have I?” Kate asked, shifting in her La-Z-Boy. “God, these hemorrhoids are killing me.”

“Sorry to hear it. Officially, my name’s Cordelia.”

“Right, right. I always forget that.”

They were sitting in Kate’s living room, Sunday night—five days and four nights after The Dumping. Posey had barely left the house since, but Kate had come over this afternoon and put her gym-teacher muscles to use, practically carrying her to the car. Back to Kate’s house, where crappy wine and excellent ice cream were administered. Posey took a bite of Ben & Jerry’s Super Fudge Chunk ice cream, then offered some to her dog, who licked the spoon agreeably.

“How much longer should I give you on the pity party?” Kate asked. “Not that I’m not enjoying myself, mind you.”

“I don’t know. A year? A decade?” Shilo sighed and put his head on her lap. The dog had been a trouper these past few days…the cats, not so much.

Someday, these feelings of rejection (there was no other word for it)…they’d be gone. This phase, this…ache would slowly lift off her heart. It was just that lying in bed this morning at 2:47, surely the loneliest moment God ever invented, she couldn’t help the tears that leaked out of her eyes and slid into her ears. Shilo had taken it upon himself to lick them, so at least she had that.

Back in high school, she’d loved Liam from afar, and he broke her heart. First love, young love, crush—it was called crush for a reason, wasn’t it, because it certainly had crushed her—whatever name you gave it, it had
hurt.

But this time, she’d loved him up close. This time, she’d seen what could have been, had felt in little flashes and small moments what it was like to be loved by Liam Murphy. Just a little bit, and even the loss of that possibility, those sweetly tender, unguarded moments, hurt so much that it was stunning. And at 2:47 a.m., with a 140-pound dog and thirty-seven pounds of cat wedged against her, tears slipping out of her eyes, she cursed herself for not believing what Liam had told her from the start.

So she’d been dumped. Liam Murphy had dumped her, as he’d dumped so many women and girls over the years. And he’d called her Posey. Back in high school, it seemed that calling her Cordelia was a way to mock her…sort of like
you can call yourself whatever you want, but you still have that bulky, endless name.
But then…recently…the way he said her name, like it was so special and lovely, and Cordelia sounded less like the poor naive slob killed by her sisters in
King Lear
and much more like a Victoria’s Secret model, inspiring slathering lust in every male within a thousand-mile radius.

“Don’t you think so?” Posey asked, taking another bite of Super Fudge Chunk. “Didn’t it sound like foreplay when he said it?”

“No more wine for you,” Kate said. “And look. You can always adopt. Look at James and me and how happy we are. The foot rubs that kid gives? Amazing. James! Give Posey a foot rub!”

“No thanks, James,” Posey called, turning her head. Ew. That ice cream–wine combo might not have been the best idea after all. “About James, Kate… Maybe a little less mother-boy time, don’t you think?” Posey offered another spoonful of ice cream to her dog. One lick of the giant tongue, and the ice cream was gone.

“Oh, save it. I already know. Signed him up for some mentoring thing. Big Brothers or the Boys and Girls Club or whatever. Guess who he got?”

“Whom? Whom did he get, Teacher. Please.”

“I teach gym. We’re not famous for grammar.” Kate drained her wine. “He got that guy. Used to play for the Red Sox. You know the one.”

“No, Kate, I don’t know.”

“The cute one with the sloping forehead. Looks like a hot Neanderthal? Matt Damon?”

“Do you mean Johnny Damon?”

“I don’t know. Hockey’s my sport. Anyway, James has a role model with a penis. I hope everyone’s happy now.” She shifted again. “I happen to think James is the best person on the face of the earth. I might be doing a great job.”

Posey softened. “You are, Kate. He is. He’s great.”

Kate smiled. “Okay, let’s talk this thing to death and then bury it. Liam the Sex God dumped you. You didn’t see it coming, should have, are now miserable. What’s next?”

“I have no idea. Back to the grind, I guess.”

For the past couple of days, Posey had been living the cliché of pathetic female, and it was getting old. She’d skipped work—first time ever. Screened phone calls. Didn’t turn on the computer and futz around on Facebook. She had, however, ordered three hundred and eleven dollars’ worth of skin care from the Home Shopping Network.

But life was waiting. Her dad had called, wondering how she was doing. No word from her mother, though Max had made sure to say “your mother and I miss you” and all that. But seeing them was just too tiring to think about right now. The whole birth-mother thing… Nothing had really changed, except that her parents had kept a secret from her, and she knew slightly more than she once did about her biological mother and father. Still, it gave a throb every now and then, now that she had names and a few slivers of information. But it would fade. As for Gretchen’s issues with Dante…who really cared? Posey had had enough of her cousin. The boys were getting ready for little Betty, and she didn’t want to be Debbie Downer in light of all their happiness.

So she’d been cleaning, which was rather uncharacteristic. Not that the church was a sty or anything, but it was cluttered with stuff she thought she might want someday—a gilt Victorian mirror, a bank of post-office boxes, the statue of the elephant. She moved what she could onto the truck, called Mac for help—at least he would never ask her about her love life—and brought some stuff to Irreplaceable. The rest—the angel with the broken arms, the shabby little lead-paned window, the sundial with no dial—she took to the dump, and even though it was hard, she left it there.

Not everything was worth holding on to.

“Posey, the right guy will come along,” Kate said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Now, do you want James to give us pedicures? James! Come here, hon!”

The boy appeared in the doorway. “Mom, no. No pedicures. I’m establishing boundaries.” He smiled at Posey. “Hi, Pose.”

“Hi, James,” she said. “You’re a good kid.”

“So I hear. I was eavesdropping.”

“An underrated life skill.”

“Tell Brianna I said hi,” he said.

“Will do.”

Eventually, Kate pointed out that the Bruins game started in twenty minutes and called Henry to fetch his sister. A few minutes later, he pulled up in his immaculate Volvo and honked the horn. “Thanks for the sympathy,” Posey said, hugging her friend.

“You’re welcome. Buck up, okay?”

“Does the dog have to get in, too?” Henry asked as she and Shilo went out to the car.

“Yes. Any other questions?”

“I guess not,” Henry said, wincing as Shilo squeezed in the backseat, leaving a trail of drool on the headrest.

Posey closed her eyes. Kate was right—enough was enough.

“Heard you broke up with what’s his name,” Henry said, pulling away from the curb.

Posey opened one eye and looked at him. “Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“I heard about the other stuff, too. The birth-mother stuff.”

This warranted the opening of both eyes. “Did you?”

Henry nodded, his perfect features as hard to read as ever. “How are you handling all that?”

“Did Jon tell you to talk to me, Henry?”

He cracked a small smile. “Actually, no. Look, I know you two are close, and that’s great. But I’m your big brother. You can, um…well, whatever little sisters are supposed to do. Talk to me or whatever.” He pulled into her driveway, turned off the engine and looked at her. “I just… I don’t know, Posey. I don’t know what I have to offer, aside from a free knee replacement.” He cleared his throat and reset the odometer. “But you know…you’re my sister. I love you. I’m proud of you. The guy who dumped you is an idiot, and you deserve better. If you need anything…you know.” He glanced at her. “Okay?”

“Henry.”

“What?”

“I love you, too.”

“I know. Now shoo.”

She kissed his cheek and went inside her strangely tidy house, made a sandwich and gave half to Shilo. Went upstairs to finish the model, which she’d brought home to paint. Played “Brother Love’s Salvation Show” on her iPod over and over. When the bell went off at nine, she managed to ignore it pretty well.

“B
OSS
! H
I
! Y
OU LOOK
…great? Right? Good to have you back!” Elise gave her a peachy-scented hug, and when she pulled back, her eyes were teary. “Sorry,” she whispered, fumbling for a tissue. “I thought he was, like, super nice.”

“Thanks, hon,” Posey said, touched at her reaction.

Elise blew her nose. “So I took your advice. Registered on Match.com last night.” At that moment, Mac opened the front door. “’Morning, Mac!” Elise sang, not looking at him. Her voice wobbled.

Mac nodded and headed for the back room. Elise looked down.

Posey’s heart twisted. What would it be like, to fall in love with someone who was pathologically shy? Who could barely look at you, let alone speak to you?

“Mac, stop,” Posey said.

He obeyed, turning to see what she wanted.

The phone rang. “Irreplaceable Artifacts, good morning!” Elise chirruped into the receiver. Posey took the phone from her and hung it up.

She looked at them, her faithful employees. Her friends. “Mac. Elise likes you. She has for the past two years. Have you somehow missed this?”

Mac’s cheeks flamed. “I…noticed.”

“So?” Posey demanded. “Do you like her? She’s beautiful, she’s cheerful, she’s got a huge heart. Any interest?”

Elise’s mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide. For once, she didn’t say a word.

“She’s pretty young,” Mac said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Right. How old are you, Elise? Twenty-eight?”

Elise nodded.

“And you’re forty-two, Mac?”

He nodded.

“Elise, you like older men, I’m guessing?”

“Well,” she whispered, blushing furiously, “I totally like this one.”

“Would you like to go out with a younger woman, Mac? A beautiful, sweet younger woman who’s been crazy about you since the first week she started here?”

His eyes went from Posey to Elise, then back again. “Um…okay.”

“Seriously?” Elise breathed. “Oh, my gosh! Right? That’s great! How about tonight?”

Mac swallowed audibly. “Sure,” he said. He looked back at Posey. “Can I get to work now?”

“Yes. Please do,” she said, smiling. Mac’s blush extended all the way up to his bald head. He looked at Elise—it took some effort, but he did it—and said, very quietly, “See you later, then,” and fled.

Posey held up a finger to Elise and trotted back to the shop. Mac was leaning against the wall, his shirt blotchy with sweat. “You okay?”

He nodded.

“You really want to go out with her?”

Another nod.

“Are you having a heart attack?”

He cut her a glance. “I think so.”

Posey grinned. “I think it’s love,” she said, and Mac shook his head, but a little smile crossed his face.

Assured that he wasn’t about to drop dead, Posey went back to the counter.

“You’re totally the best boss, like…ever?” Elise said, throwing her arms around Posey. “I thought I was gonna have to come in here naked and handcuff him to me!”

“Now, see, that would’ve worked, too,” Posey said, smiling. “Now, go easy on him. Be gentle. He needs time.”

“Time. Roger that.” Elise beamed, and Posey’s heart lifted at her friend’s happiness.

“Okay, I have to run out to the candy factory and talk to the owner about what he wants to keep. And then I have an errand. I probably won’t be back today.” With that, she chose two aging wicker chairs whose cushions didn’t smell too moldy and hefted them in the back of her truck, whistled for Shilo and went off.

W
HEN
V
IVIAN ANSWERED
her door a few hours later, her wrinkled old mouth fell open. “Posey! What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you, too,” Posey answered, shifting the box in her hands.

“But…but I thought you…” Viv closed her mouth. “I thought our business had concluded,” she said, enunciating carefully.

“Well, we’re still friends, right?” Posey asked. “And it’s Monday. Our day for lunch?”

Vivian blinked. “Aren’t you angry that I went with Down East?”

Posey hesitated. “Well, not angry. Disappointed. But it’s your property, as you said. Can I come in? This is heavy. It’s a present, by the way.”

Viv held the door wider, and Posey came in, the familiar musty smell of lavender and old lady greeting her. She put the box on the table, and, knowing Viv’s old hands weren’t strong enough, took out the gift.

Vivian stared at it for a long minute. Then her faded blue eyes filled with tears. “Posey…”

It was the model, of course. The Meadows in miniature and Posey’s best effort to date. She’d even found an elm tree to put in the side yard.

Vivian bent down to look more closely. “This was my bedroom when I was a girl,” she said softly. “I used to look out this window first thing every morning. There was the noisiest family of wrens in that tree.” The old lady’s mouth quivered, and she straightened abruptly. “Do you think the Vultures might…save it?”

Posey looked at Vivian, once a great beauty, once somewhat feared and revered in this town, once a beloved wife. A woman who’d never had a child and whose few relatives visited her only to ensure they were kept in the will, who would rip apart what was most precious to her. “They might, Viv,” she lied. “They just might.”

Vivian looked at the model again. “They won’t,” she said. “But they’re family, and you forgive them, even if they are the human equivalent of hyenas. Because that’s what you do, Posey. Forgive.”