•Kitchen•
Ace's POV
The kitchen door swung open with a soft creak, revealing Ovelia, Ann and Mrs. Melinda elbow-deep in soapy water. Three pairs of hands froze mid-scrub as our sudden entrance startled them. Ovelia's wet fingers dripped onto her apron, leaving dark spots on the fabric as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The sharp scent of lemon soap hung thick in the air.
Mrs. Melinda's soapy sponge plopped back into the basin. "What in the—" she began, her voice rising before I pressed a finger to my lips. Understanding flashed across their faces, and without another word, they resumed washing, though their movements became more deliberate, quieter.
