Zara
When we arrived at the packhouse, Dad had already driven most of the elderly home in his truck. Maid had already baked something in the kitchen and was arranging cookies and brownies in Tupperware containers.
Everyone had their own way of coping with stress. Despite Dad's injured knee, he insisted on being there. He loved to bake enough baked goods to feed the entire country.
The smell of baked goods filled the house, and I couldn't help but glance into the kitchen. Dozens of Tupperware containers stood there, and I watched the maid wipe the countertops with a rag, humming softly to herself.
A small smile appeared on her face as she caught my eye and hugged me, which eased my anxiety somewhat.
"How is Ryan?" she asked.
"They're doing well, just helping the others clean up." I sighed, smiling wearily.
"Looks like we weren't the only ones busy," Alpha remarked as he entered the kitchen.
