~SARA~
I blink. “What?”
“Mrs. Ford is a picky eater,” she says. “It takes a highly skilled chef to prepare a dish palatable to her taste buds. If one of you can get a compliment from Mrs. Ford for your dish, then you will head the kitchen for a month.”
I swallow.
Shit. Consider yourself doomed, Sara.
“Well…” I begin, trying to think of an excuse when—
“We will do it,” Mira cuts in.
I turn to her, staring daggers. “Excuse me?”
She smirks. “We will take up the challenge, Martha. Surely…” She grins at me. “Preparing a dish shouldn’t be a Herculean task.”
“Well, I would appreciate it if you didn’t go around speaking for me,” I grit out.
She places a hand on her chest, mouthing an oh as if stunned. “Why so defensive, Sara? It’s just preparing a dish. Or are you scared you might whip u
