Grace had never set foot in the kitchen since she was a child, not to mention putting a name to any of the ingredients.
She stood there in a daze.
This gave Mckenzie a headache. She wheeled herself over, pointing at the ingredients while telling Grace their names and what to do.
It was indeed inconvenient for Grace to walk up and down on high heels.
And the marble floor was smooth. She accidentally slipped and knelt on the ground. Her beautiful face was contorted.
Grace scrambled to her feet, secretly cursing. She knew her knees must have been hurt seriously because of the sharp pain.
Mckenzie didn't want to say anything else, gripping her wheelchair. She had an impulse to rush over.
Putting the ingredients into the pot was just a start. She must keep stirring them.
Although Grace was tall, her arms and legs were thin. Just after she stirred for a while, her strength failed her.
"Go on. The coals are burning. If you stop stirring, the dressing can't be heated evenly and will even be scorched."
Mckenzie said sternly.
Grace was not meek, but she didn’t lose her temper.
As she had finished mixing the ingredients, it was nearly noon.
Grace’s legs were weak. Her arms were sore and soft.
She wanted to leave, but Mckenzie didn't agree.
That was only the first step, and there was a second step.
Cursing silently, Grace stepped out of the kitchen into the dining room, found a seat by the window, picked up the Band-Aids, and put them on her knees.
At this time, the phone rang. It was a call from Charlie. His voice was warm and soft. "Honey, you must be tired."
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