She grinned to herself. She loved statistics. She didn't know why she did, but somehow all these numbers added meaning and shape to her life.Often when she was alone, she'd take out her diary and pore over the days, looking at the progression on the total, smile at those days which had been particularly eventful where her tally had increased by the most, and perhaps frown at the relatively low scores that might be associated with it. She had very high standards. A seven was pretty good. And not given lightly. An eight was rare. A nine rarer still. And a ten. Well! Could that even exist?Often she wondered about what would have happened if she'd included her on-stage sex in her total. What would that have done? And would that be cheating? Would that make her an entry into the Guinness Book of Records? But they didn't really have that kind of thing in there. Or did they? She wasn't sure. But she wasn't sure she'd want her photograph or name in something like that. It was bad enough. All I did was insist that the necklaces be as close to identical as possible. I told him to deduct the cost from the proceeds of what I had left for him to sell.When we were on the way home, Will asked me what I thought. “I think I can handle the job I’ve been asked to do. I’m worried, though, that it may be a means to an end, trying to get me to commit full-time to one agency or another,” I replied. The grimace on his face when I said that didn’t help make me feel any better.“I’ll be honest; each of the services would love to have you full time. I know from talking with Dwight, your last boss, that we don’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell of accomplishing it. He warned that you would walk away from everything if we pushed you too hard. He explained that you saw yourself as a farmer, just like you told me. I warned all the other agencies off, so there will be no attempts to recruit you.“When you came to everyone’s attention, they reviewed all your action reports, and compared them.
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