“Nobody calls me that, either. It’s Logan.”

“Thank you, Logan. And please call me Grace.” She surprised him by taking hold of his hand, then gazed up at him, unsmiling. “You have no idea what this means to me and to the world at large. And I promise, I’ll be the best cocktail waitress you’ve ever hired.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” she said with confidence, then let go of his hand and whipped out her small notebook. “I’m very smart and a quick learner. I’ve already memorized the ingredients of every drink in the bartenders’ guide I bought. And as far as lifting the trays? Well, it’s just physics, after all. Simply a matter of determining the correct spatial placement of the glassware on the tray. Look.”

She flipped the pages and showed him a diagram. “As you can see, it’s an exact duplication of our own solar system. In miniature, of course. My theory is that if the drinks are dispersed in this pattern on the tray, equilibrium will be achieved and there shouldn’t be any spillage.”

His mouth twisted in an acerbic grin. “Interesting theory.”

“Yes.” She stared at the diagram, then back at him. “I was just a little surprised to find out how heavy the tray was when I lifted it. But I know I can-”

“That’s right, Grace, it’s more than just physics,” he said deprecatingly. “There’s also a little matter of balance and proper weight distribution, not to mention the right application of upper-body strength.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Grace said, eagerly grabbing a pen from his desk to make some notes in her pad. “That’s very good. So you agree, it’s a perfectly simple job once you get the dynamics hammered down.”

He shook his head and wondered when, exactly, he’d lost control of the conversation.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Sutherland.” She slipped her notepad into her waistband, then gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

“It’s Logan,” he repeated. “And you’ve got one week to improve or you’re out.”