Chapter 15
Carrying a load of dirty dishes, I shoved the kitchen door open with a hip and blew a breath up into my sweaty hair. On my way to the dish pit, I slipped, but managed to stay on my feet.
“Here you go, guys,” I said to my invisible helpers. “Can you wash these and put them away for me? Thanks.” I dropped the big container loaded with silverware and pots full of burned caramel, the thing landing loudly on the ramp. “I’ll do prepping and inventory.” I scoffed, aware that I was losing my mind. “No? Don’t feel like it?”
I was overwhelmed with work. Of course it didn’t help that I wasn’t sleeping and kept making mistakes in my recipes, the very recipes I’d created myself. Ever since Hank had left four days ago, I’d been dropping egg shells in my cake mixes, burning my caramel sauce
