Chapter Ten
The man looks at me over the top of his wire-rimmed frames before consulting the electronic tablet tucked under his arm. “We’ve received complaints about food not being stored at the proper temperature, food being prepared off-site in a non-registered facility then brought onto the premises, and hairnets not being worn during food preparation.” He flicks his gaze up to my hair. Hair that’s been hairnet-less since I’d removed it when I went back into the office.
In all the years Cecelia’s been in business, we’ve never had a complaint called in to the health department. Dad was a stickler about keeping everything sanitary.
“Did someone get sick as a result of eating here?” Iris asks, walking up next to me.
Mr. Nelson peers at his tablet. “The complaint didn’t say anything abo
