NO NEED TO SEE WHAT I ALREADY SAW every day. The restaurant-style kitchen was next. Stainless steel pots and pans in every size hung from the ceiling above a long butcher-block-style counter. Two ovens sat side by side on one wall. They were the Hansel and Gretel type, big enough to shove a good-size witch inside. Three stainless steel coolers with clear glass doors lined another wall. It seemed like overkill, to have such a massive kitchen for just our family. Not like we’d be throwing any parties. The other end of the kitchen held the breakfast nook and the counter. Past them was the door into the dining room. One large crystal chandelier lit the room, which housed an oak dining table with seating for sixteen. Again, overkill. We ate Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter dinner in there. That was it. I left the kitchen and headed to the infirmary. Although it was state of the art, it looked like an old-fashioned doctor’s office, when the doctor had a small place and did everything in one room.
