The waitress came back with their drinks on a tray, set Josh’s wine before him, then slowly, slowly attempted to get Sarah’s cosmo to her without spilling a drop. It was filled to the rim, and Josh stared, hypnotized as she lowered it closer and closer to the table. The pink liquid shook, but didn’t spill. Would she be able to manage the surface tension of the liquid?

No. As she set it on the table, it sloshed just a bit.

“So close!” she said.

“Um, I hate to be a pain,” Sarah said, “but I said very faintly pink. Do you mind taking this back and getting me another one?” She was already handing the glass back to the waitress.

“No, no, not at all. I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s the bartender’s.” Sarah smiled, though Josh could tell it wasn’t a real smile. Once, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Lauren had taught him so much. The waitress went off to replace the drink.

“So,” Josh said. “Any . . . summer plans?”

“Other than visiting your place? No.” She flashed a smile. He hadn’t planned on inviting her to stay just yet. The house was a mess at the moment. Would it be rude to tell her no?

It would be. He nodded, forced a smile and wished he’d brought some index cards.

“How was Singapore?” she asked. “You only said that it was a good trip. Tell me about it.”

And so he did, and he tried to give details, the way Lauren had once instructed him. He told her about the beautiful city, the impressive Chiron headquarters, the orchids of the botanical gardens, the food.

“I would love to go there someday,” she said. “I’m not really well traveled.”

The server was back, and this time, the drink was neither spilled nor too pink. “Are we ready to order?” she asked, and Sarah gave him a wink.

“I’ll have a Caesar salad, no anchovies,” Sarah said.

“There are anchovies in the dressing,” the server said.

“I know that. I just don’t want little fishes lying across the lettuce.”

“Got it.”

“And I’ll have the petite filet, medium, which means I want it pink and warm in the center.” Yes, Sarah was a woman of firm opinions and clear instructions.

“And your sides?” the server asked.

“Instead of the crispy potatoes, I’d like the mashed, and a side of asparagus.”

The server scribbled furiously, then turned to Josh. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have the grapefruit salad and the salmon,” he said.

“Great choices. How are we doing on drinks? Oh, gosh, I just brought you yours. Sorry. Um, let me know if you want wine with dinner! Okay!” Off she went again, her long ponytail swinging.

“She’s nice,” Josh said.