Reynard skipped downstairs again and tried to check in the kitchen, although he knew they couldn't possibly be there.
Even before he opened the door that led to the kitchen, Reynard could smell the aroma of bread and meat. The creak of the door made all the cooks turn around to see, because people rarely entered the kitchen.
"Um," Reynard looked around the door, "is Uncle Frank here?"
The kitchen was warm and cozy. A row of stoves with pots of bubbling stew stood against one wall with one cook attending to all of them. The others stood against a counter table, peeling potatoes or chopping vegetables. It reminded Reynard of the way his mother used to cook when she was still stable on her feet. Happy days, those were.
Reynard did a quick look around the kitchen. There was nobody in there except the cooks.
