Chapter NineThe buzz of women’s voices blended with the cacophony of banging pots and pans, and the sound of workers’ footsteps rushing back and forth inside the kitchen. Rochelle blew an errant strand of hair from her face as she kneaded the bread in front of her. Her shoulders ached, but the yeasty scent of the dough reminded her the pain would be worth it once the loaves were baked into crusty goodness. She wasn’t a good cook, but she had mastered making bread. Finally, something she could do well.
“Addams, quit daydreaming. Those loaves won’t make themselves.”
Rochelle’s face warmed at the harsh words of the kitchen matron. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And if you manage to finish within the hour, get started on the carrots.” The woman smirked. “See if you can do it correctly this time.”
Several
