Chapter 6

The following morning, I woke up just as the sun was coming up. I never woke up this early, but I had barely been able to sleep last night after my bizarre conversation with Olivier. I was almost halfway convinced I’d dreamed the entire thing. Yet as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and put on some pants and a sweater, I knew I hadn’t dreamed it at all.

I hurried down to the kitchen. Not just because I desperately needed coffee, but because I needed information. The kitchen was already bustling when I entered. A few people glanced at me, but no one stopped me from coming inside. At this point, the staff knew who I was and either ignored me or occasionally inquired if I needed anything. 

I looked for red hair, my stomach sinking when I couldn’t find Cara. Instead, Mrs. Walsh stepped out from a walk-in fridge, a hand cocked on her hip. “May I help you, miss?” she said, all crispness.

I had to admit, I was impressed at how perfectly ironed her apron was this early and how tightly