#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.

I cut straight to the chase, my

Abby,

belligerent when anyone tries to

arms over my chest, feeling a mixture of frustration and

it firsthand. Hell, I’ve lived it. Karl is an Alpha, and there’s

he should be badmouthed when he’s not even

this restaurant since we opened,” I say gently.

defend

this establishment.”

“I understand that, Abby. It

firm. “I don’t want you making a

This isn’t one of those restaurants where it’s

else. Got

nods solemnly. “I get it, Abby. I do. I’ll make sure it doesn’t

gotta do something about Karl.

how to broach the subject

out any issues you

replies, his

the door. He nods, stands up, and exits

alone with my thoughts.

my chair, my mind racing. The atmosphere in the restaurant, especially the kitchen,

a finely tuned instrument.

the head chef, plays an important role. Disharmony

and right now, we’re on the cusp of

dissonance.

I don’t appreciate the way he’s

the culinary arts, and struggling to fit into our

two qualities

the desk, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. The confined space of my office

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

and walk out

lively hum of chatter and clinking dishes serves as a momentary distraction from my

tables and servers, I find Ethan by the

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

effortless.

Ethan, got a minute?” I ask,

What’s up?” he replies,

gesturing toward the pile

on the end

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

silverware, I can’t help but feel a bit more grounded. There’s

contrast to the complicated people issues I’ve

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