Brett set a plate of hot, buttered challah on the table. “Clarissa, could you please get the jam out of the refrigerator? I have organic raspberry and peach.”
“Sure thing, Brett,” she replied, scanning the kitchen. “Um, where’s the refrigerator? All I see is cabinets.” Try though she might, she couldn’t remember where he’d gotten the cream from the previous night.
“Oh, sorry. The large cabinet on the end is actually a refrigerator.”
She pulled on the handle and the golden door swung open to reveal a concealed ¾ size space, crammed with tasty things. “Wow. I’ve never seen a setup like this. Certainly not in my rental.”
“I know. I was lucky to inherit such a tastefully-appointed place. My great-aunt wanted to leave it to someone who would appreciate its aesthetic… it seems odd to be talk
