Karl “Like your mother.” Reginald’s words leave me somewhat taken aback. After all, how can I be like my mother if I’ve never even met her? “I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head slightly, “but could you elaborate?” Reginald chuckles and nods at the same time. “Let’s get Eva back in her
Abby “Abby, I have to tell you something.” I look up from the table I’m cleaning to see Karl standing next to me. He’s got his phone in his hand and a dish cloth draped over his shoulder; we’ve been cleaning the restaurant frantically today in preparation for the grand opening, which is tomorrow
They’re all great, really. But it’s not the same, and it’s going to take some getting used to. And tonight, it’s a reminder that my old team, my friends, are far, far away from me when I need them the most. Or at least, that’s what I thought. “Need some help?” A familiar voice suddenly snaps m
Abby Smoothing down my chef’s coat, I carefully step out into the dining area. I’m met with the sound of a bustling, happy restaurant—a sound that should make me elated, but right now, it just adds to my worry. “He’s over there,” Daisy murmurs in my ear. She nods her head toward a man who’s sitt
Abby The small shop smells like old wood and rare spices as Karl and I step through the doors. We stop for a moment, glancing warily at one another. “You’re sure this is the place?” I whisper. Karl nods and checks the address that the local grocer wrote down for him on a slip of paper one last
As we continue searching, I keep thinking back on our last harrowing hunt for black truffles; those poachers nearly shot us. Even now, I can still remember the sound of the bullets whizzing past my head, and the thuds they made when they careened into trees. “We got really lucky,” I say. “If we ha
Abby As I chop, stir, melt, and saute, the others stand around me, watching intently. The pasta simmers on the stove, the air smelling like warm butter and spices. It’s enough to make anyone’s mouth water. But my focus isn’t on the rumbling in my belly, nor is it even on the lingering pain in my
Abby “Abby, why don’t you sit down?” Karl looks up at me from where he’s sitting on the sofa, a look of concern on his face. He pats the spot next to him, but I shake my head. “I can’t,” I say, continuing to pace back and forth in our living room. “I won’t sit down until I hear back about that