Until There Was You(13)

“What’s that?” Kate said.

“Our thing? Tonight?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, your brother’s in the operating room, so he can’t come, either. Liam, our son is a doctor. An orthopedic surgeon, just in case you break anything, dear.” Clearly, the son’s profession could not be stated often enough.

“Good to know,” Liam said. There. A chunk of potato fell out, nearly hitting him in the eye.

“Why is he here, Mom?” Cordelia whispered, the words easy to catch.

“He’s fixing the sink,” Mrs. O replied.

“He’s a mechanic, Mom.”

“So?” Stacia hissed. “He’s here, Gretchen’s single.”

Liam sighed. There. He got the knife free, then worked out the fork. Messy job, but not as bad as a carburetor, that was for sure.

Just then the back door opened, and Liam glanced up again. Ah. The niece. What was her television show? “The Naked Fraulein” or something? Naked would be A-okay. Wow. The woman. Was built. Kim Kardashian curves, long blond hair, blue eyes, ultra-white teeth, the same kind of perfection you saw in hordes in San Diego…but nicely done, by nature, it seemed, not a plastic surgeon.

“Posey!” she cried, beaming a thousand-watter, throwing her arms around Cordelia, her cle**age practically swallowing the smaller woman.

“Gretchen!” Cordelia echoed back, her voice muffled.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you! There’s nothing like Verwandter!”

“Sorry, what does that mean?” Cordelia asked, pulling back. “No one in our family’s spoken German since World War II.”

“Oh, you! It means family. Just look at you!” She pulled a face. “Have you lost weight?”

“No, I haven’t,” Cordelia returned. “Have you gained any?”

Ah. A cat fight had to be looming. He’d put his money on Cordelia—scrappy vs. soft. Still, better to get while the getting was good. He finished tightening the washer around the pipe and stood up. The niece’s eyes slid to him…slowly. “Hello there,” she said, her voice dropping. “I’m Gretchen Heidelberg.”

“Hi. Liam Murphy.” He turned on the water and started washing his hands, counting automatically.

The woman’s too-long-to-be-real eyelashes fluttered. “Do I know you?” she asked.

“I used to work here. A long time ago.”

“We must’ve met, then,” she murmured.

“Maybe,” he said, drying his hands.

“Of course, I’m pretty familiar with this kitchen myself,” she said, giving a slight wriggle, in case he missed the mighty rack. “I filmed my audition tape here.”

Danger, my son, Liam told himself. Maneater in the vicinity. “Cool. You’re all set here, Mrs. O. Just a chunk of potato stuck in there and a few pieces of silverware.”

“I’m the Barefoot Fraulein,” the cousin went on. “Thursdays at five on the Cooking Network? Have you ever seen it?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he said, smiling to be polite. If he ignored her completely, she’d take it as a challenge, and God protect him from women who saw him as a challenge.

“Oh! Liam! You’re so clever! And so wonderful to help,” Stacia said. She glanced between Cordelia and Gretchen. “You girls should stay! You should all stay! I have some beautiful apple kuchen! Liam! Stay! Talk!”

“I’ll take a rain check on the cake, Mrs. O. My daughter’s home alone.” He turned to the cousin. “Nice meeting you. See you girls around,” he said to Cordelia and Kate, punching Kate lightly on the shoulder.

Then he got out of there, before Mrs. O tried to marry him off.

“WHO WAS THAT?” Gretchen said, actually licking her lips. Posey rolled her eyes. Gret should just smear him with sour cream and lick him off. It’d be more subtle.

“That’s Liam,” Stacia said. “He’s a widower. More than two years. I think enough time has passed, don’t you?”

“He touched me,” Kate said, her voice a little dazed.

“A widower, huh? Nice,” Gretchen said. She tilted herself back a little so that her cle**age heaved itself upward, the kind of trick Posey couldn’t have done without a couple of double-D implants and a gun to the back of her head.

“Gret, Mom, sorry we can’t stay, but Kate and I have plans,” she said. “Kate? Our plans?”

“Posey! What? We’ve hardly had time to catch up!” Gretchen fake protested.

“Well, we’re having dinner at my parents’ house on Sunday,” Posey said.

Gret pouted. “Don’t you want to hear about what the producers of Top Chef told me last week? I shouldn’t say anything, but I think they’re scoping me out as the new host of… Oops. Better not say anything till the contract’s signed.”

“I thought you were back to help Mom and Dad,” Posey said.

“Mmm-hmm. For a while, anyway.” She flashed another smile, practically blinding Posey with her glow-in-the-dark white teeth.

“Hi.” Kate stepped forward. “I’m Kate, Posey’s friend. We’ve met before, back in high school. I’m a big fan.”

Posey choked, and Kate gave her a guilty look.