“I see you’ve met my son,” says a voice above us. We both turn and I slowly look up to see Bev, her hands on her hips as she regards the mess I’ve made.

“Your son?” I repeat weakly, looking from her to Cute Textbook Boy, who shrugs.

“Actually, Ma, we haven’t officially met,” he says. He stands, and I slowly straighten up beside him.

Bev sighs. “Amanda, this is Nick. Nick, this is Amanda,” she says. “And Nick, it looks to me like Amanda has some cleaning up to do.”

Nick shakes my hand in greeting; then I shoot him an embarrassed glance and stand up to look at Bev.

“I am so sorry, Bev,” I say. I can feel tears prickling the backs of my eyes, and I blink them away. “I don’t know what happened. I just . . . I screwed up, and I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“Honey, it’s not a matter of forgiving you,” Bev says wearily. “I’m just afraid that you’re not qualified to do this.”

I take a deep breath and start to protest, but Bev puts a finger to her lips.

“Come on,” Bev says, putting her arm around my shoulder. She leads me to the kitchen and yells back to ask Lauren and Gillian, two of the other waitresses, to help clean up and get the table of ten some new drinks. Amber shoots me a pitying glance on her way past.

“Honey, have you really waitressed before?” Bev asks once we’ve arrived back in the kitchen.

I sigh. “No,” I admit. I feel terrible.

“Okay,” she says, as if she’s thinking. “Then maybe this isn’t the best situation for you,” she says. I can’t believe she’s not mad. She just seems disappointed.

“But . . .,” I protest, my voice trailing off. But what? I’ve lied about my lack of experience. I’ve embarrassed myself—and the restaurant. “But I need the job,” I finally mumble. That, at least, is the truth.

Bev sighs and thinks about it for a moment. She pinches the skin above the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger and looks lost in thought.

“I could train her, Ma.”

Nick is standing there in the doorway to the kitchen, drying his hair with a dish towel.

“Nicky, I don’t know . . .,” Bev says.

“I waited tables in high school.” He turns to me. “I don’t mind showing you a few things. Including how to balance a tray full of drinks.” He grins, and I feel my face heat up again.

“That would be great,” I mumble. We both look at Bev. She looks back and forth between us and finally sighs.

“Okay,” she agrees. “One more chance, Amanda.”

“Thank you,” I say. She pats me on the shoulder and gets up to leave the kitchen.