The glass shattered against the kitchen tile, a sharp counterpoint to the lunch rush clatter. Matt flinched, already scanning for the broom before the sound faded. "Focus, Matt," Janet's voice cut through the steam, not loud, but carrying the weight of a slammed door. Her gaze lingered on the shards near his feet. "That's the third thing since you clocked in. Spilled water on table six, dropped the steak knives, now this?...