A timpani of falling pans made Sam jump. Christ, what the…Kathleen was on the early roster all week. Must be she who dropped something in the kitchen. He grumbled a little about having to get up when he’d only just sat down, but he needed to check she was okay. Despite the inconvenience Sam approached the swing doors, whistling. After the night before he struggled to wipe the grin from his face, but if Kathleen were injured the whistling would be inappropriate. Sam fell silent, mindful his mood might come across as callous. Setting the box of plastic mistletoe on the bar, he tried to increase his pace. If all were fine in the kitchen, he wanted to get back to hanging the artificial sprigs which had arrived only that morning, and, if time allowed, he wanted to finish decorating while Chante
