The class was finally over. The other women packed their bags and left, whispering quietly about what had happened earlier. Outside, the cool air brushed against Faye’s face as she stepped out of the cooking school. She spotted Mrs. Doris standing beside the car, arms folded, waiting for her.

Faye walked up to her carefully. “Mother…” she began softly.

Mrs. Doris turned sharply. “Who told you to take that hit for me?” she asked coldly. “Did you think I’d be grateful?”

Faye lowered her eyes. “I only wanted to help.”

“Don’t meddle in things like that again,” Mrs. Doris snapped. “You’ll only make things worse. Don’t try to change my...