Lulu was normally calm and even-tempered, maybe a trifle flighty, impulsive, and even a bit rebellious, she had to admit, but today she was not in a mood to be conciliatory of this "temperamental tyrant" of the kitchen.
Coming downstairs, tired and still on edge from last night's trauma, Lulu would have liked nothing better than to have made her tea and departed the kitchen unscathed. It was not to be. The kitchen was ablaze with activity. Maribell was cooking, her Julia Child cookbook open on the counter, the radio blaring.
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