#Chapter 60: Harmony
I’m standing over a steaming pot of ragù, stirring as I listen to the sizzle and pop of ingredients melding

together in culinary harmony.

The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity, the dinner rush in full swing. But amidst the orchestrated chaos, a

discordant note strikes my ears. It’s John, my head chef, talking to another member of the kitchen staff.

“The guy just can’t get it together,” John grumbles. “It’s like he’s deficient or something. Honestly, why

Abby even hired him of all people is beyond me.”

I immediately recognize that he’s talking about Karl. I would normally be bothered by this sort of talk to

people’s faces, but today is Karl’s day off, which makes the conversation even more inappropriate.

And despite what I think about Karl, it’s not cool to be talking behind a coworker’s back. Especially not

in my kitchen, where I value respect.

“I swear,” John continues, oblivious to the fact that I can hear him, “he’s a downright jackass. And he

can’t follow directions to save his life. Hell, my kid was watching that one movie the other night, what’s

it called… Alice in Wonderland. He reminds me of Tweedledee. Now all we need is a Tweedledum.”

John bursts out into laughter, clearly amused by his own jokes. No one else laughs; maybe because

they’ve realized that I’m right here, listening to every word.

I’m well aware that Karl is still new to the restaurant business, still trying to acclimate to the hierarchy

and flow of the kitchen. But we all started somewhere, and the last thing he—or any of us—needs is a

colleague undermining him behind his back.

With a sigh, I delegate the sauce to someone else and wipe my hands on a kitchen towel.

“John, could you come into my office for a moment?”

His face pales a fraction, as if he knows he’s been caught. “Erm… Sure, Abby,” he responds, his voice

edged with trepidation.

Once we’re behind the closed door of my office, I sink into my chair. I watch John as he hesitates,

clearly uncomfortable, before taking the seat across from me.

what’s the issue with Karl?” I cut

running his fingers through his hair. “Look, Abby, he makes a lot of

get downright belligerent

my arms over my chest, feeling a mixture of frustration and disappointment. John isn’t

lived it. Karl is an Alpha, and there’s no doubt about it.

be badmouthed when he’s not even around

with this restaurant since we opened,”

when they’re not here to defend

this establishment.”

“I understand that, Abby. It won’t

had better not,” I reply, my voice firm. “I don’t want you making a bad impression

those restaurants where

else.

I do. I’ll make

something about Karl. He’s

I say with a sigh, already wondering how to broach the subject with

any issues you have with Karl when he’s present.

replies, his voice tinged

can go,” I say, gesturing to the door. He nods, stands up, and exits my office, leaving

alone with my thoughts.

my mind racing. The atmosphere in the

a finely tuned instrument.

the dishwasher to the head chef, plays

the entire composition, and right now, we’re on the cusp of

dissonance.

John’s concerns, even if I don’t appreciate the

fit

to learn, two qualities

sigh escaping my lips. The confined space of my office

air thick with unresolved tension. Deciding I need a break from

out into

chatter and clinking dishes serves as a momentary

way through the maze of tables and servers, I find Ethan

glasses. As always, he seems to be in his element, his movements smooth

effortless.

got a minute?” I ask, forcing a

lady. What’s up?” he replies,

the silverware?” I say, gesturing toward the pile of spoons, knives, and forks

on the end

my guest,” he replies, sliding over a bunch of cloth napkins for

I can’t help but feel

the simple, repetitive action, a contrast to the complicated people issues

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