Our next arrival was a man I didn’t recognize. He was tall, good looking, and kept his dark hair cut short. He wore khakis and a button-down shirt, and his slightly doughy frame was not quite fat but certainly not fit. I pegged him as one of the financiers who worked in the city across the river. There were enough of those types around here because of our proximity to the city. The Banker Boys, as I called them, always looked a bit like fish out of water in this industrial area.

Brit hurried over to him and kissed him on the lips. He leaned into her and pressed his hand to the base of her spine. Okay, he wasn’t here for me.

Tucking her arm around his, Brit brought him over. “David, I’d like you to meet my sister, Marisa.”

“Nice to meet you, Marisa,” David said as he handed me a bottle of wine. “Happy birthday.”

I accepted the bottle and guessed that he and Brit hadn’t been dating long. My older sister was always good about telling people that her baby sister was in AA. Still sober after one year. Fighting the good fight.

“Thanks, David,” I said. No point making a fuss. In fact, it was nice passing as a real person instead of someone to tiptoe around.

“Oh, that’s sweet.” Brit usually pointed out errors, but she didn’t this time. Definitely in the honeymoon stage of their relationship, when they each still laughed at the other’s jokes, didn’t wear their favorite sweats around the house all the time, and smiled even when annoyed.

“I like the hat,” David said to me.

“Just you wait,” I teased. “There’s a hat on the table with your name on it.”

“It’s a silly party game.” Brit was worried now. She clearly didn’t want her new man to see her as mothering. Too soon for that. “If you don’t want to wear one, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” he said easily. “Who am I to be tonight?”

“I was thinking the Wizard,” she said.

“Perfect. I’ve always fancied myself a bit of a magician. Have I showed you my sleight-of-hand trick?”

Brit’s nose wrinkled with a smile as she reached for the purple-and-silver spiraled hat. “No. And you’re a sport.”

To David’s credit, he settled the hat on his head, raising his chin. “I think it suits.”

“We’re still missing the Lion,” I said.

“Jack is the Lion.” Like Jo-Jo and Kurt, Jack had known MC since high school. “Jo-Jo, where’s your husband?”

“He said he would try to make it,” she said. “He’s working at the other restaurant, but he will try to stop by.” Jack owned this bar, one across the river, and another opening soon in Church Hill.

“He warned me he might be late,” Brit said.