She went through the heavy double wooden doors and hurried toward the kitchens. Mrs. Grant found her right away. “Thank goodness,” the older woman explained as she hugged Justine. “We’ve had four workers laid out with illness this week. I’m at my wit’s end.” “Tell me what to do.” That was the last conversation Justine remembered. From that point on, she was too busy to think straight. She and the workers struggled to prepare and cook the meal, ready the utensils and plates and put chairs and tables out for the guests. It was almost a relief when the doors opened because then she could merely
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