It's about this point that Annika emerges from the ladies' room in her usual flurry of skirts and curls and bag. It might be the tension in the atmosphere, or the look of dawning panic on his face, or the more than passing resemblance to her father's latest boyfriend; but in any case she threads her way to the counter and plants herself at his shoulder. "Hi, he'd like a grande Americano, please. And a blueberry muffin for me." With her most engaging smile by way of punctuation.
Under the counter, she catches his hand and squeezes it reassuringly.