Chapter Seventeen
I wait until midafternoon before venturing out again. Outside the room there’s a landing with a wide balcony and curving stairs. I follow the scent of roasting chicken, my mouth watering in anticipation. Whatever dish is being prepared in the kitchen, it will probably end up on a beautiful tray outside my door.
Who’s cooking it? And why have I never met that person?
Maybe it’s not an important mystery in context, but it pulls me in.
As I get closer to the kitchen I hear strains of classical music coming from the speakers perched in the corner of the dining room. It’s soft enough that I can still hear a faint clatter of metal pots inside.
I push open the swinging door, struck silent by what I see.
Damon Scott, his white shirt sleeves rolled up, his jacket and vest dr
