Until There Was You(31)

“Yeah, well, I guess you and I didn’t do too much talking,” Posey said, a trifle sharply.

Dante didn’t bat an eyelash. “You two close?” he asked.

“I guess so. She’s my only cousin.”

Finally, he turned his full attention back to her and gave her a long look, then a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

Much better. “You, too,” she said, feeling the same pull of attraction she’d felt two months ago. Maybe this break was just the thing to get them to move to a real relationship, after all.

“Posey!” Mrs. Schmottlach swooped in and gave Posey a big smooch on the cheek. “You look beautiful!”

“Hi, Mrs. S. Thanks, same to you.”

“Isn’t this so exciting for your parents?” she said. “That Gretchen is a wonder. So pretty, and so talented. Oh, honestly, there’s Bruce. The man can’t be alone for more than ten seconds without wondering if I’ve left him for another man. Bye, sweetie! I love you in a dress!”

Posey turned back to Dante. He was gone. Dang it.

Standing on tiptoe, she could just glimpse Henry, Jon and their friends in a corner, schmoozing and laughing (well, Henry was checking his phone, hoping for a reattachment).

Time for that drink. Posey slipped and slid through the crowd, saying hello here and there, getting a kiss or hug from her parents’ friends, until she made it to the bar, where Otto was on duty. “Hey, there, look at you, in a dress and everything!” he said.

“It happens,” she answered. “How about a whiskey sour, Otto?”

“Coming up!” A minute later, he handed her the drink.

“Thanks, pal.” She slid a ten into his tip jar and sat back to look around. There were a number of waiters she didn’t recognize—college kids, probably—who looked out of place in black jeans and white T-shirts when the regular staff wore the traditional German costumes.

Suddenly, her dad’s voice boomed out. “Zicke zacke, zicke zacke!”

“Hoi, hoi, hoi!” Posey chorused along with the rest of the crowd.

“Folks, it’s so wonderful to have you here! Thank you for coming! Without further ado, the Barefoot Fraulein, Gretchen Heidelberg!”

Posey clapped dutifully as her cousin, feigning modesty, slipped her arm around Max. “Uncle Max, Aunt Stacia, thank you so, so much! It’s such a thrill to be here, back with my family, taking over Guten Tag. And you all have been so warm and wonderful in welcoming me, thank you all so much!” She flashed her teeth again and wiped a tear (or pretended to wipe a tear). “Guten Tag will be undergoing some changes, a new look, and maybe even a new name! But you’ll always have the same wonderful time you’ve always had here. So zicke zacke, zicke zacke!”

“Hoi, hoi, hoi!”

A new look? A new name? Since when? Posey closed her mouth, then took a slug of her drink. Granted, the restaurant could use a little…updating, maybe. But Stacia and Max loved it, didn’t they? And to Posey, it was as much home as her parents’ house.

Another hipster waiter walked past with a tray of something. Posey snagged an appetizer and popped it into her mouth. Flaky dough, cheesy, some meat inside. Fantastic, if minuscule. Before she could grab another one, the waiter was gone.

The reporter from Channel 2 was gesturing for Max, Stacia and Gretchen to stand together. Posey couldn’t hear what the question was, but Gretchen, standing in the middle, did most of the talking.

Huh. Her drink was empty. Time for another, that was clear. She waved to Otto and held up her empty glass. She was already a little dizzy, but in a pleasant way. And pleasant was called for. She caught a glimpse of Glubby, the moose with the broken antler. Would Glubby make the cut in the new look? If not, he’d always have a home in her church. She would not leave Glubby, that was for sure. Glubby was her friend. Glubby and his broken antler were more than welcome at her house.

People who weigh a hundred and seven pounds should not have two drinks on an empty stomach, a voice in her head warned. True enough. She would kill to scratch her boobs right now. Probably not advisable in public, though. Oh, to be home with Shilo right now, searching Google for pictures of James Franco. It would sure beat this.

“Thanks, pal,” she said as Otto handed her the whiskey sour. There was another waiter with another batch of tiny appetizers. Could she take the whole plate? She was starving. She managed to snag one—more flaky stuff—and popped it in her mouth. The room spun just a little. Kinda fun.

“Hey,” came a voice. Posey looked, then closed her eyes. Liam Murphy. Black high-tops, black pants, black shirt, black hair, looking like a really hip Lucifer. Hey, there. Feel like a sin or two?

“Yes,” she said. A flake of pastry fluttered out of her mouth. Great. Smokin’ Hot Lucifer and the Simple Farm Girl.

“Nice dress,” Liam said, giving her a disdainful scan.

“Bite me,” Posey said.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sorry?” he asked.

Oops. Maybe he wasn’t disdainful. Maybe she was channeling or projecting or whatever that word was. “Nothing. How are you, Liam?” He didn’t answer, engrossed in his phone. Ass.

The last appetizer (tapas…please) had something spicy in it. Posey’s lips stung, so she took another sip of whiskey sour. It didn’t work; her lips still stung. She licked them. Liam glanced up, as if sensing tongue, then went back to his phone, dismissing her. Which he was good at, it must be acknowledged. A true gift.