Elena
After changing into practical clothes—jeans, boots, and a sweater—I met Tiffany in the foyer. She was already waiting for me by the front door, tapping her heels and clicking her manicured nails against the hallway table.
“Where are we going first?” she asked.
“The kitchen gardens,” I replied as I headed toward the back of the house. “We need to harvest fresh vegetables for the nursing home.”
Tiffany stopped in her tracks. “The nursing home? Why would we do that?”
“To bring them fresh meals, of course. The elders deserve better than the bland cafeteria food they usually get.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “The pack provides adequate funding for their meals. There’s no need for us to personally deliver food like we’re some sort of… deliv
