#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 straight to

his fingers through his hair. “Look, Abby,

he can get downright belligerent when anyone tries to

feeling a mixture of frustration and

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

be badmouthed when he’s

since we opened,” I say gently.

here to defend themselves.

this establishment.”

my words. “I understand that,

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

one of those restaurants where it’s a free-for-all. Everyone

else. Got

solemnly. “I get it, Abby. I do. I’ll make sure it

Karl.

already wondering how

shaky ground. “We’ll sort out any issues you have with Karl when

replies, his voice

gesturing to the door. He nods, stands up, and exits

alone with my thoughts.

back in my chair, my mind racing. The atmosphere

a finely tuned instrument.

head

disrupt the entire composition, and right now,

dissonance.

even if I don’t appreciate

culinary arts, and struggling to fit into our tightly knit team.

learn, two qualities that can’t always

desk, a heavy sigh escaping my

I need a break from this contained

out into the

hum of chatter and clinking dishes serves as

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

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

effortless.

Ethan, got a minute?” I ask, forcing a

course, boss lady. What’s up?” he replies, looking

gesturing toward the pile of spoons, knives, and forks

on the end

a bunch

start rolling silverware, I can’t help but feel

simple, repetitive action, a contrast to

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