At Your Service. Amy Jo Cousins

to the man before that point.

      Even if she only had tonight, she’d do it. She’d make Tyler think he couldn’t live without her.

      Strange lady, Tyler thought as he continued making the necessary calls to come up with at least a skeleton staff for the night. She’d practically begged him for this job, but she’d rushed out the door on his errand as though she’d just been let out of prison.

      The ever-present nervousness in her vivid blue eyes contrasted sharply with the delicate grace of her features. She looked as if she constantly expected him to snap at her. And she had definitely been aware of his spontaneous honesty test. He’d seen the flare of anger she quickly suppressed when she realized he thought she might take his money and run.

      He was actually fairly certain she’d return, produce in hand, if for no other reason than to prove his suspicions wrong. What disturbed him was the feeling that he’d be far more than a little disappointed if she didn’t come back. Tyler told himself that it was just that he needed her for the job, but knew that his concern ran deeper than that, even after only a few hours.

      Shrugging off his uneasy thoughts, he dialed the next number and waited for the female voice that eventually answered.

      “Hi, sweetheart. Tell me you’re not doing anything exciting tonight. I need you badly.”

      Two

      Right up until the moment when the three-year-old at table six nailed her on the chin with a maraschino cherry, Grace thought the night was going fairly well.

      Even as the little demon’s parents apologized frantically for his assault with a flying garnish, Grace just shook her head and marched straight to the rear of the restaurant. She pushed the swinging doors to the kitchen hard enough to set them flapping on their hinges and threw her tray on a stainless-steel counter.

      “I quit,” she announced to the room in general. “It is a complete madhouse out there and I’d rather shovel manure for a living than bring another Shirley Temple to that little monster at table six.”

      The faces that turned toward her from the grill and the dishwasher were female and smiling widely at her threat.

      It was the fourth time she’d quit since the doors had opened at 5:00 p.m. She supposed her threats didn’t carry much weight anymore.

      “C’mon, Grace,” Sarah called cheerfully from where she stood at the sink, up to her elbows in soapy water and dirty plates. “You’re the only one of us who knows what she’s doing. You were certainly right that I’d help out most by scrubbing pots.”

      Grace flushed with guilt as she remembered how she’d banished Sarah to the kitchen to wash dishes after the second time Sarah had dropped a trayful of drinks in one hour. The man Sarah had drenched with Merlot and beer had only settled down after she’d comp’ed his meal.

      “I shouldn’t have told you what to do, Sarah. After all, you’re doing Tyler a favor just by helping out.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m clearly not cut out for waiting tables, and if somebody didn’t wash these dishes, we’d run out of plates to serve dinner on fast enough.” Sarah grinned at her and blew sweaty bangs off her forehead with a puff of breath. The ponytail she’d pulled her hair into was wilting rapidly in the steamy heat of the dish room.

      “Besides, if a sister won’t scrub pots for her brother, then who will?” Sarah asked and shook her butt to the music spilling out of the boom box on the dishrack behind her.

      Sarah’s easy acquiescence to Grace’s taking charge was only the latest in a string of surprises.

      Grace’s first surprise had come when she’d returned to the restaurant, after getting just a tiny bit lost on her errand, to find the tables set, the soup of the day simmering and the makings of a restaurant staff ready to pitch in for the evening. By the time she’d been introduced to Addy, Sarah and Max, Tyler’s older and two younger sisters, respectively, and Susannah, his mother, Grace was spinning in a whirlwind of names and unfairly beautiful dark-haired women.

      “Mom, bless her beautiful heart, is going to cook.” A snort of laughter from his mother made them all laugh. “You’ll be fine, Mom. The Garcias did most of the prep work before they left. It’s just like cooking dinner for six, only I hope you’ll have to do that twenty or thirty times. Max, you’ve got a year to go before you’re old enough to serve drinks, so you probably ought to help out in the kitchen. Sarah and Addy, one of you helps Grace wait tables, the other can bus them and set ’em up. Gracie’s done this all a million times, so she’ll tell you what to do.”

      And with that, he’d walked away to answer the phone, leaving her with a stack of aprons and order pads and four women looking to her for direction.

      “Great, Tyler. That’s just great,” she muttered, and thought furiously about what to do next. She’d seen at once as Tyler passed out assignments that Sarah was terrified about waiting tables and that Max was annoyed to be stuck in the kitchen with her mother.

      But I’m not in charge here, and according to what I’ve told Tyler, all I’ve ever done is wait tables in a diner. I don’t want to look too comfortable with authority here, if I’m going to convince everyone that I’m just another waitress.

      Her first question was for Susannah, Tyler’s mother.

      “Do you think you’ll be able to make everything on the menu? If you have any problems, we can always say that we didn’t receive a delivery of something crucial and apologize for the dish not being available.”

      The older woman raised one eyebrow archly and smiled. “Tyler came to me for help in designing the menu, because he likes my cooking. If I have problems with anything on that list, he’ll laugh me out of kitchen.” She turned and walked off to the kitchen.

      “Terrific. Two minutes and I’ve already pissed off the boss’s mom.” She kept her voice low enough that she hoped no one heard her. Then she caught Sarah grinning at her.

      “Okay, everyone grab an order pad. We’re going to make cheat sheets, so you don’t have to keep looking at the menu for prices. You, too, Max, just in case,” she said, trying to include the girl who had her arms crossed over her chest and a shuttered stare.

      She kitted them all out with a three-pocket apron, order book and pad, and a tray for serving drinks. When she wrapped the apron strings twice around her waist, tied them in front of her and stuffed her book in the center apron pocket, she was surprised at how at home she felt. It had been years since she’d worked as a server at a restaurant, but apparently waiting tables was like riding a bike.

      Once you did it, you never forgot how.

      “Okay, ladies. Lesson number one. The customer is always right.” Grace waited a beat. “Except when they are obnoxious, crazy or just plain wrong.”

      They laughed and then listened as Grace gave them a crash course in how to wait tables. From greeting the customers and taking orders, to serving food and cashing out a check. When the three sisters were temporarily occupied with an argument over the most efficient way to abbreviate garnishes and side orders, Grace took a moment to search out Tyler.

      She found him in a tiny office, hidden behind a door off the kitchen. When she turned the knob, the door opened and she carefully peeked her head into the room.

      Tyler sat at a desk overflowing with paperwork. Grace saw stacks of invoices teetering precariously on one edge and a hastily assembled pile of applications at Tyler’s other elbow. The man himself was on the phone and as she listened to the conversation, she understood that he was trying to find more permanent help than his sisters and mother for the restaurant.

      “No, thanks, Jorge. I’m covered for the weekend. But if you could start on Monday, you’d be a lifesaver, man.”

      He noticed her waiting and waved her into the office with a flick of his hand. She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms to wait. He was off the