“I had a lot going on. Mrs. Henderson’s Buick was in critical condition.” He takes a drink. “Besides, shouldn’t you be polishing glasses or something? Isn’t that what bartenders do when they’re not gossiping like old ladies?”
“I’m an excellent multitasker.”
Julian sets down his beer. “You blasted your radio at her, Ben. River told me.”
“River needs to mind his own business. You all do.”
“Ben.” I lean forward. “You pretended you couldn’t hear her to avoid a yes or no question from a woman you’re clearly obsessed with. That’s not customer service. That’s a cry for help.”
“I’m not obsessed.”
“You just said she’s living rent-free in your brain.”
“That was a figure of speech.”
“Was it?”
Ben opens his mouth, closes it, and takes a long drink of whiskey instead. Julian and I exchange looks.
“Bea made a PowerPoint,” Ben finally admits. “About how I’m an idiot.”
“Your sister made a PowerPoint?”
“Fourteen slides. She presented it over dinner. With a laser pointer.”
I nearly choke on my water. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Slide seven was just a picture of Tessa’s clipboard with the caption ‘This is not your enemy.’“ Ben shakes his head. “Slide twelve had a flow chart.”
“A flow chart?”
“Mapping out all the times I’ve avoided Tessa in the past six months. It was color-coded.”
Julian loses it completely, beer going down the wrong pipe. I have to hand him a napkin while Ben watches with wounded dignity.
“She’s very thorough,” Ben says defensively. “She got it from our dads.”
“I need a copy of this presentation,” I manage. “Immediately.”
“Over my dead body.”
“I’ll pay.”
“Not enough money in the world.” But his mouth is twitching now, fighting a smile.
Julian gathers his paperwork and stands. “Much as I’m enjoying this—and I really am enjoying this—I need to get home. Lila made me promise I’d be back by nine, and if I’m late, Dean will make that face.”
“The disappointed golden retriever face?” Ben asks.
“That’s the one.” Julian claps him on the shoulder. “Good luck with the Tessa situation.”
“There is no Tessa situation.”
“Sure there isn’t.” Julian turns to me. “I’ll be back Saturday for those receipts. Have them organized.”
“Yes sir.”
The door closes behind him, letting in a gust of cold January air. Ben stares at his empty glass.
