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“How’d you meet him?”
“At work.” I shake my head before she can finish the thought. “He wasn’t one of my clients. He’s more on the business side of things.”
Which is certainly true. He owns the business.
“You look happy,” Posie says, her hands sliding down to clasp mine. “That’s the most important part.”
“I’m really happy. He’s… well. I’m head-over-heels, really.” I laugh. “But how are you? How’s Ben? Is he here?”
“Yes, yes, he’s over there,” Posie says with a nod to where her long-term boyfriend is mingling. Her voice drops, tugging me closer. “I didn’t invite Robin, Summer, but someone dragged him along anyway. You know how it is.”
I nod. “Yeah. I figured.”
Anthony chooses that moment to return and my hands slide out of Posie’s to accept the glass he hands me.
“Happy birthday,” he says to Posie. “I heard you went to college with Summer?”
“I did, yes. We had a lot of music theory classes together.”
“Posie’s a virtuoso,” I say. “Think Mozart or Bach, but better.”
She laughs. “God no. Don’t listen to Summer. I play a few instruments, that’s all.”
“Five, right?”
“Well, I added cello recently. I’m not competent yet.”
“Your version of ‘not competent’ is another person’s mastery,” I protest. “So six instruments.”
“I’m impressed,” Anthony says.
“She plays at the New York Philharmonic.”
“All right, now I’m even more impressed.”
Posie laughs. “Summer, you’ve always been better at selling me than I do myself.”
Anthony lowers his glass, glancing from me to Posie. “How was she in college?”
“Summer?”
“Yes.”
Posie shoots me a wide grin. “Oh, she was popular. Great at managing her dual subjects of business and music. Charmed everyone with that voice of hers.”
I shake my head. “Now you’re overselling me here.”
“Not in the least.” Posie leans closer to Anthony, lowering her voice. “This girl right here used to sell out the student café when she was performing. She’d write mash-ups of the most popular songs on the radio and sing them, harmonies and all.”
“She did?”
“Oh yes. I’d play guitar and she’d sing, sitting on a barstool with a single microphone, and bring down the house.”
“That was a long time ago,” I say.
“Yes, it was,” Posie agrees. “Far too long. We should do it again, Summer. Find an open mic in the city and bring the place down for old time’s sake. This time I can comp you on cello.”
“I’ll help,” Anthony adds, voice serious. “I’m passable at playing the triangle.”
