Sarah POV
The entire time I had known Chef Rachel, she had demonstrated enthusiasm for her job, kindness toward the children, and conscientiousness about her job. I had barely seen her frown, let alone glare at a mixing bowl while furiously whipping at her batter and looking like she wanted to spit fire.
“Rachel?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen.
“Hello, Sarah,” she muttered before going still, closing her eyes, and taking in a deep breath.
“Food not cooperating this morning?”
She shrugged, went back to stirring, and despite all her attempts still looked angry.
“I don’t want to intrude on your kitchen,” I said, “but I have to ask if this might involve the children.”
She stopped stirring again and looked at me. “Indirectly.”
“Then I have to ask you to share, please.”
Rachel l
